“All yours.” I held up my hands in surrender.
She snorted and then slowly pulled open one brown flap of the package and peered inside.
“What do you see?” I whispered.
“Snakes,” she said with absolutely no emotion. “Lots of snakes.”
“Shit! For real?” I yelled, stumbling over my feet as I reeled backward.
She set down the knife and burst out laughing. “No, dumbass, it’s some sort of furniture piece from Ikea, it looks like…” She pulled out instructions and grimaced. “It looks like we get to put together a bed frame.”
I nearly pounded my chest and said I man, I use tools, but I figured she’d just punch me in the face, so I simply nodded and snatched the instructions away from her. “Looks easy enough.”
The doorbell rang again.
I paused. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck. “Think they’re classically conditioning us to flinch every time someone knocks or rings?” I wondered aloud.
She laughed. “Right, like it’s a social experiment we don’t even know we’re in.”
I shook my head. “Don’t give Max ideas.”
I could have sworn I heard evil laughter, but it was just my own paranoia about the insane man who wore flamingo ties and who I’d one day bring coffee to.
Olivia jerked the door open, a manila envelope that had been propped against it fell inward. With a sigh, she picked it up and reached inside, pulling out a small gold key. A single sheet of yellow paper fluttered to the ground.
I picked it up and read out loud. “Master bedroom.”
“Yay, a bed!” Olivia did a fist pump then seemed to remember she wasn’t the only one in the room. With a battle cry, she sprinted down the hall toward the last room on the right and tried to shove the key in. When it didn’t work, she panicked, dropped the key twice then moved to the next doorway.
This time the key went in, and she twisted the knob. She shoved the door open and gasped. “It’s so pretty!”
I followed after her. “Oh good, a mattress. Thought we were going to have to build one of those too.”
“Hilarious.” She shoved me.
I shoved her back for absolutely no reason other than I liked annoying her, and I still tasted her on my tongue.
The room was huge and had another gas fireplace that had these cool looking blue rocks inside it. The walls were all white except for the wall with the fireplace. It was covered in brick and painted black.
Two plush baby blue chairs were sitting in front of the fireplace with a table in the middle. A bottle of wine and two stemless glasses sat on top, and toward the back of the room, which I assumed connected to a bathroom, was the mattress leaning against the wall framed by two side tables that I assumed they wanted to be on either side of the bed.
“Should we get started?” I asked.
She put her hands on her hips. “I guess I can’t just shut you out of the room, can I?”
“You could,” I said. “But then I’d be forced to do this.” I opened my mouth and made a horrific screeching noise.
Olivia tackled me to the carpet in two seconds, her hands cupping my mouth, her legs straddling me.
Huh, usually when I made that noise I didn’t get rewarded so quickly. I clasped my hands behind my head and grinned up at her.
She jerked her hands away. “That was so immature.”
“Yup!” I agreed. “But desperate times.”
“Ah…” She wiggled a bit. “That desperate to sleep in the same room with me, Mark?”
“The way you say my name, with such passion, it really does do things to me…hard things, penetrating things—”
Her hands settled back over my mouth. Okay, I deserved that one.
“You gonna be good?” she asked, looking down her nose at me, eyebrows raised expectantly.
So good she’s gonna be screaming my name— Damn it! Pull yourself together, Mark!
Slowly she withdrew her hands.
I frowned. How was I supposed to think with my actual brain when she was straddling me like this?
“I’ll be good.” I smiled. “Now, do you want the big strong man to go get the big box and carry it in here?”
She punched me in the shoulder. “Sorry, reflex.”
“Yeah, and what? Tackling me was instinct?”
“Maybe.” She chewed her plump lower lip as her eyes locked onto mine with an intensity.
The doorbell rang again.
I groaned and banged my head back against the floor. “Why…”
“I’ll get it.” She jumped off me and left the room.
I stayed there for a few brief seconds waiting for my body to cool down, and then I desperately tried to remind myself to focus on the end game.
A job.
A good job.
A good-paying job.
Job being singular, not plural.
What if she was using seduction as a way to gain an edge? What if I was falling for it hook, line, and sinker?