I couldn’t help my snort. “Don’t know why you’d complain. You look all strong and muscly carrying all that.”
He rolled his eyes and went back to scanning the area, looking for threats, but I didn’t miss the twitch of his lips.
He totally knew I was messing with him, didn’t he? But for some reason, he was going along with it.
“Are you ready?” the cashier said, trying to get my attention.
I turned to her with a smile and finished the transaction before carrying the bag back to Roman. It was a small, black bag that I was dying to hang off his ear or something, but I just held it out to him, wondering what he’d do.
He stared at it, then at me, then back at it, and let out the loudest sigh ever. This time, I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from cracking up.
“Really?” he asked, already sounding resigned.
I nodded. “Yep. I need to try on a couple of shirts over there”—I gestured in a random direction—“soooooooo here.”
The pinky of his left hand shot out. “Stick it on.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather wear it like an earring?”
The look he gave me could’ve seared a phoenix.
When I tried to hold back a laugh, I ended up making a weird barking noise, but I still stuck the bag on his finger. “There you go.” I gave him a pat on his cheek since there was nowhere else that wasn’t covered in bags. “You make a really great pack mule.”
“You are the biggest ass ever, and I feel like I’m the only one who knows. You hide it well, but one day, the others will see.”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter anymore, and I burst out in a fit of giggles, my eyes watering as I bent in half, trying to catch my breath. Before Roman actually got mad, I shot back up to standing, whipped out my phone again, and snapped a few pictures. In one of them, he was looking at me with a raised brow, and the casual expression on the big guy covered in bags was hysterical and perfect.
Before he could stop me, I opened up a group text that had practically everyone we knew in it and sent a picture with the caption:
Bags I’ve had to carry today: 0
Then I shoved my phone back in my pocket and smiled up at my pack mule. “Blouses are this way.”
My phone vibrated with texts, and I knew Rome’s was too, but he couldn’t pull his out, so I wasn’t worried about him seeing it yet.
Over the next thirty minutes, I bought five more bags of things, and still, Roman didn’t ask me to carry anything. Hehadto know exactly what I was doing. Why the hell was he just… going along with it?
I snapped another picture of him, this time, he was mid-eye roll, and sent it along in the text chain.
Me: Rome- 25. Me- still 0
I ignored the replies again and put my phone away.
“So,” he said, staring at me. “You ever planning on helping me with all your shit, or am I just here as a glorified cart?”
I pointed at him. “Hell yeah. Made it to twenty-five.”
“What?”
“I wanted to see how many bags you’d carry for me before you started complaining or made me carry some.”
“Do you really think I didn’t know what you were doing?”
That made me grin. “Then why’d you let me…” I trailed off, gesturing to the monstrosity of bags all over him.
He shrugged. “You were having fun.”
I… didn’t know what to say to that. “And you weren’t?”
