“I can’t,” he rumbled, heart thundering and bear grumbling. “Let me help you with the futon. I’ve got to get to the store.”
With an elaborate eye roll, she swung her gaze back to her phone. “All right, I’m skipping this song, though. I hope it’s not your favorite. It’s too long, and who cares about it when this is next.”
He chuckled, watching the wobble of her butt in those pants as the first notes of “Ripple” filled the air and she crossed the room, humming.
“What do you need me to do?” Elliott asked, following along. He had an hour, tops.
“Take that piece”—she gestured to the back panel of the futon at the foot of her bed, then pointed at the far corner of the room—“over there?”
“Yes ma’am.”
It turned out she only needed him to stabilize the big parts while she slotted on an arm. He was so focused on her delicious scent and her soft humming that he almost missed her stomach growl as she leaned down to click the second arm into place.
“Have you eaten today?” Standing behind the futon, he shimmied between it and the wall to escape.
“All done!” She hopped up on the far side, breasts jiggling behind her faded yellow tee.
“Fern, I asked you a question.” His bear rumbled, but he covered it with a cough.
“I had a croissant for breakfast.”
Sighing, Elliott went to clear the haphazard stack of towels and boxes off her futon mattress.
“I can do that,” she offered as he scooped up a box that weighed next to nothing. Her hand landed on his, then slid away, leaving a trail of heat in her wake.
“No,” he growled.
Startled, she pulled back and blinked up at him.
Despite his heart racing a million miles an hour, Elliott managed to stare her down with a raised brow. It wouldn’t kill him to stick around awhile longer. Then he could zip over to the store and still be home before his dough was ready to bake. Fern needed to take a break and eat, and she clearly wasn’t going to do it without a nudge. He could handle her futon mattress and fold a few towels if it gave her a few minutes. That wouldn’t be so bad.
Her blue eyes darkened under his scrutiny, and she planted her hands on her hips.
Words. He should probably use those. “You go eat something. I’ll finish this for you.”
Her angry elbows fell away, and her lips quirked up. “Fine.”
He busied himself with her linens until a Tupperware lid cracked open and he stole a glance her way.
“You need to heat that up,” he said, grabbing a turquoise towel.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t.” Shoving a forkful of cold trout into her mouth, she moaned appreciatively.
Elliott huffed, and his bear snorted, wriggling his big brown butt, loving every minute of the exchange he'd never comment on. Fitz talked to his bear quite a lot, but the scoundrel never talked back. None of their animals did.
While Fern ate, he folded up her rainbow array of towels and stacked them on her bed since he had no clue where she wanted them to live. Elliott was sliding the futon mattress into place and giving the whole thing a jiggle-test when a pillow hit him in the back.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. I have terrible aim.”
He turned and scooped up a hot pink puffy thing with dangly gold tassels on the ends. “What even is this?”
“I got that one on a trip to Canada when I was sixteen.”
“Canada? It looks... Moroccan or something.”
She shrugged and plucked a red and orange floral pillow from one of the lightweight boxes. “I got it at a craft fair. Now, this one is from Florida. My mom and I went down to visit my grandma, and she gave it to me. I think it’s from a Costco or something, but it’s sentimental. She passed away a few years ago. Don’t spill anything on it, okay? Put it down. Thank you. Ooh, this one is from the city, but I got it the weekend I got myhairdressing license, and I was so proud of myself, but I was still hiding that I dropped out from my mom.”
She tossed the flower-shaped pillow his way, and he caught it, adding it to the others on the futon.
