“Oh. Sure. I’ll leave it on the desk, then?”
“Thanks.”
She followed him downstairs, where her living room furniture was being set in place.
“That’s the end of it,” the boss mover said. “I’ll get you to sign off that everything has been delivered without a scratch.”
She scrawled her name at the bottom of the form and dug cash out of her pocket for a tip for each of them. “Thanks so much, guys. Appreciate it. Safe drive back to London!”
But once they were alone, the unpacking started to get competitive.
Evan stripped off the flannel shirt. Jess had never seen him in a t-shirt before. She’d never seen his biceps, which were impressive enough. But he had veins that popped out of them, little three-dimensional lines that begged to be touched.
And he kept flexing. Picking up two boxes at once, getting close to her to find out where they should go even though the cottage was small and there were only so many rooms—and all the boxes were labelled.
Brent didn’t miss any of that. Jess wondered if he was distracted by the biceps veins too—since he had admitted to liking all sorts of things in an Evan-shaped package—but all of her husband’s attention seemed focused on her, except for when it came to one-upping Evan.
When the other man called a box of books heavy, Brent hefted it into the air with ease. “I’ve got this one.”
Evan gave him a murderous look. “Careful with your back there, man.”
“My back’s just fine. I carry people for work, you know?”
“I’m familiar.”
“Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”
Jess grabbed a box of kitchen stuff and beat a hasty retreat. She heard the barbs continue as they carried her books up the stairs, and she stayed out of their way until Evan told her they were at the bedroom boxes. “Do you want us to deal with those?”
She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for lunch. Do you want to give Carrie a call and find out what their plans are? I can organize my bedroom stuff.”
“Sure.” He dug his phone out and headed outside.
Jess went to inspect the remaining pile of boxes and bins. Some of it was clothing that needed to go back into her drawers. Other stuff needed to be decanted onto shelves in the closet. She picked up the box of shoes and headed for the stairs.
“Careful,” Brent said as they passed each other on the landing. “There’s a bit of loose carpet that’s come up on the second step from the top.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, winking. “I’m nimble on my feet.”
“I’ve got my toolbox in the truck.”
“You don’t need to—”
Evan appeared behind Brent, carrying what looked suspiciously like his own toolbox. “What doesn’t he need to do?”
“Fix anything in my house,” she said. “And the same goes for you, even if you are dressed like a very capable handyman.”
Evan grinned. “Are we talking about the fact that the carpet is loose on the—”
“Second step from the top,” Jess and Brent said at the same time. “Yep,” she added on her own. “But I’ll be fine.”
She turned on her heel and headed upstairs, being careful on the offending tread. The box of shoes fit perfectly in the closet, to be sorted later.
Then she headed downstairs to grab another box—and promptly slipped on the loose carpet.
From out of nowhere, Evan caught her around the waist and prevented her from flipping ass over teakettle down the stairs like a rag doll.
“Shit,” she breathed as he pivoted them to stand facing each other.
