“I was an aerospace medical technician.”
“What do they do?”
“We flew with medical evacuation patients. Made sure they were stable flying from one place to another. What about you? Ranger?”
“What makes you think I wasn’t a mechanic?”
“Well, I can tell you were Special Forces. You’ve got that type-A, alpha-male, door-kicker vibe going on.”
“Type-A, alpha-male, door-kicker?” His eyes twinkled.
She smirked. “Yeah. You know. Badass with a beard. Plus, I saw pictures of you in uniform in your office, so I saw the tab.”
Jase gave her another quick kiss.
“Good news, folks,” the salesman said. “We have a queen size in stock. The manager said he would knock an additional five percent off the price if you’re able to take it with you.”
Bree sat up and looked over her shoulder at Jase. “Do you mind helping me take it back to my place?”
Jase quirked an eyebrow but didn’t bother answering her question.
“Right.” She looked up at the salesman. “We can take it today.”
“This will be easier if we take the plastic off first,” Bree said.
Jase grunted as he tried to get a grip on the protective barrier around the mattress. “If we take the plastic off here, the mattress will get dirty.”
“Then at least cut holes where the handles are on the side to make it easier to carry.”
“Huh. Yeah. That makes sense.”
Bree put her wrist to her forehead and struck a dramatic pose. “Oh, the horror. Common sense has prevailed.”
Jase fought against smiling at her theatrics. “Smart ass.”
She winked and stepped back to give him room to slit the plastic. “I can’t muscle the mattress into the house without some leverage.”
He backed his way up the porch steps, carrying the mattress low so Bree wouldn’t have to lift it up so far. Maneuvering it down the hall took little effort, and he cut off the plastic before pushing the mattress up onto the box spring. He bundled up the covering and took it to the outside trash.
Bree finished tucking the corner of the sheet under the mattress when he returned. “Can you grab the comforter and pillows from the guest room?”
He pulled her onto the bed once she had everything made to her satisfaction. “Did you text Denise my address?”
“Yes. I told her around five o’clock. What time did you tell Tim?”
“Between five and five-thirty.”
Bree glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Four-fifteen. “So we have about fifteen minutes to fool around,” she said.
A slow grin spread across his face. “I can work with fifteen minutes.”
Denise wielded the chopping knife with expert dexterity, dicing the tomatoes into perfect bite-size pieces. “How exactly did the women folk end up in the kitchen?”
“Tale as old as time,” Bree replied.
Denise turned from her salad preparation. “Did you just quote Beauty and the Beast to me?”
Bree grinned. “It seemed appropriate.” She opened the refrigerator and gathered cabbage and carrots for coleslaw.
