Miss Fix-It

He nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that what you are doing today or I would have taken upstairs for you.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said. “I was hoping to build their closets today.”

Brantley nodded. “Let me help you carry them upstairs before I take the kids out.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I can do it.”

He quirked an eyebrow, smirking. “No, I’m helping you.”

I opened my mouth to argue further, but the way he was looking at me told me that it would be futile. So, instead of arguing, I decided to give in and let him help me. He was going to do anyway.

He poked his head into the front room to see if the kids were okay. They’d both made their way onto the sofa and, they were, for now, sitting and watching TV nicely. He motioned with his hand to me to follow him.

I put down my toolbox at the bottom of the stairs and following him towards the door in the kitchen that led to the garage.

The boxes were where we’d left them when the delivery came and I rifled through them and the delivery note to find the box that Ellie’s closet was in.

“Here, it’s this one,” said Brantley. He tapped the box at the very back.

I sighed. Of course, it would be the one at the back where we’d have to move about six boxes to be able to get to it. “All right.” I stared at it. “It looks really heavy.”

He smirked. “That’s exactly why I’m here to help you.

“Are you saying I’m weak?” I raised an eyebrow teasingly.

The smirk transformed into a grin. “No. If you were weak, then my shoulders wouldn’t look like they’d been in a fight with a tiger.”

Once again, my cheeks flushed bright red. “Yes, well,” I paused. I didn’t know what to say to that.

Amusement danced in his eyes. He grabbed a box, his biceps flexing as he moved it. “Aside from not raising my children to be assholes, I think my life’s mission is to make you blush every time I see you.”

“I take issue with that mission.” I pushed a box across the floor.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You want my kids to grow up to be assholes?”

I frowned at him. “That’s not the one I was talking about, and you know it.”

“I know.” He grabbed a box that held Eli’s dresser and stacked it against the other wall. “But, you’re also really adorable when you frown, so I might make you do that, too.”

“I’m not adorable. Puppies are adorable. Kittens, rabbits, hell, even baby goats are adorable.” I sniffed and rested my hands on top of the closet box. “I. Am. Not. Adorable.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Personally, I don’t care much for rabbits.”

“Neither do I, but that doesn’t mean they’re ugly.”

He held his hands up. “I think you’re adorable. Especially right now, when you’re trying to glare at me with your nose all wrinkled up.”

I clapped my hand over my nose. “Can we not talk about this? I have work to do.”

“We can not talk about this right now. Grab your end of the box and lift it up on three. One, two, three.”

We both picked it up.

Shit, it was heavy.

“Thank you,” I said as we carried it through the kitchen to the hallway.

“I said right now,” Brantley continued, taking the first stair and glancing over his shoulder.

I was really taking the brunt of the weight of this box, and my arms were shaking. “What is right now supposed to mean?”

“It means we still have to have a conversation.”

“A conversation? About what?”

“Well, for a start, about the fact your thong is in my washing machine.”

I almost dropped the box.

He stopped. “Are you all right?”

“Why the hell is my thong in your washing machine?”

Moving again, he said, “Because you forgot to put it back on last night before you left, and I thought you’d appreciate me cleaning it for you.”

I exhaled slowly. “And here I was, thinking we could avoid mentioning anything about last night.”

“Why would we do that? Seeing you blush every ten seconds is much more fun.”

“You have a warped idea of fun.”

“Coming from the woman who uses a paintbrush as a microphone.”

We reached the top of the stairs and I let go of the box. “Look,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “First of all, I did that one time. One. Time. Second, I have a large hoard of very adoring fans in your backyard who were incredibly honored to have witnessed such a fabulous display of entertainment from me.”

His lips twitched. “You had one fan in the doorway who enjoyed watching your shake your ass for two minutes straight.”

I blinked at him. “I might be late to the party, but we’ve definitely shattered any illusion of professionalism here, haven’t we?”