Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Monroe made a sound that was part cough and part gasp.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Straightening, he regained his ever-present composure. “You just…switched directions so easily there.”
“Were you wanting me to go for the hard sell, Lieutenant? That’s not my style. You know perfectly well I’ll go there with you in a heartbeat, but I’m not gonna beg, and I’m not gonna coerce. You want me, you know where to find me.”
Chapter Eight
Monroe
My body was woefully ill-prepared for the energy Knox brought to our first morning as roommates.
“Today, we’re taking on the primary bedroom.” He wandered into the kitchen, looking remarkably breezy for the early hour in shorts, a T-shirt with a picture of a snoring cartoon cat, and bare feet.
“We’re doing what?” Even in the service, I hadn’t been the best in the morning, and I tried to shake the cobwebs from my brain. “Sorry. My head’s still foggy. The coffee should be ready in a second. I need to do groceries, but I think there might be cereal.”
“No problem.” Knox opened the fridge to peer at its limited contents. “Here. You have two eggs with a decent date. I’ll make us something.”
Moving around like he’d lived here forever instead of less than twenty-four hours, he grabbed a skillet, cutting board, knife, and spatula.
“Thanks.” It was weird how, after years of being the one in charge, the highest-ranking person in the room, it was remarkably easy to let Knox take charge. Yesterday had worked out well, following Knox’s lead on cleaning up the third floor and going along with his favorite pizza order. “So, what was that about today’s plan?”
“Master bedroom is an outdated term of dubious origins,” he explained as he chopped the lone potato and onion from the fridge. “But that suite is what needs our attention. Because right now, you’re staying in a room that seriously has baseball posters so old the stars can now collect social security.”
“Hey, now.” I made an indignant noise. “And you looked in my room?”
“Wallace followed me down the stairs from the third floor, so I went around shutting doors on the second.” Knox gestured with the spatula as he dumped the potato and onion into the heated skillet. “Your door was wide open. I didn’t go in. I just closed the door for you so Wallace wouldn’t get any ideas.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Knox stirred the skillet with a casual offhandedness that was rather sexy. After years of chow halls and officer clubs, a guy who could cook was a novelty. “Anyway, you, my friend, are sleeping in a twin bed.”
“It’s temporary.” I couldn’t deny that my old room was small. It was an interesting shape with dormer windows and a built-in desk, but the narrow bed was a definite detractor.
“Staying in the primary suite would also be temporary, but at least you’d be comfortable in a realtor-ready space. Better for the psyche than being among your high-school stuff. Trust me, I know.”
“This is true.” I nodded as I poured us each a cup of coffee. “Probably better for my back too. If we can do something about the explosion of pink currently in there, I suppose I could switch.”
The main bedroom was also marginally farther from the stairs to the third floor, but I didn’t need to point that out. Not like I’d lain awake last night calculating the exact number of steps to where Knox lay in the daybed.
“Excellent.” Knox grinned like I was giving him permission for an amusement park ride, not agreeing to a ton of work. “I told Frank and Leon I’d work here today because I’m helping Measure Twice on a garage remodel Thursday and Friday. Drywall. Can’t wait to get muddy. But today, let’s strip.”
“Excuse me?”
“Wallpaper.” He rolled his eyes at me as he deftly cracked the eggs into the skillet. “From what I could see from the hallway, that wallpaper must go. We’ll clear the room, investigate what furniture can stay, and prep for painting this weekend.”
“Sounds like a plan.” As soon as I said it, I couldn’t help but laugh loudly enough that Knox turned his attention away from his skillet. “Sorry. It’s just that you make this seem so much more manageable than it was even two days ago.”
“One room at a time, Monroe. Just take it one room at a time.”
“I’m trying. I’m used to big projects with finite deadlines and concrete steps. This has felt like an ever-growing hydra.”
“I can provide the steps. We’ll slay the hydra.” Knox’s cocky confidence was utterly infectious. “You provide the muscle.”
“I think you’re doing fine for muscle,” I said before I could think better of sharing the compliment aloud.
“Why, thank you.” Spatula in hand, he flexed his biceps. “But four hands are always preferable to two. Or one for that matter.” He waggled his right fingers, making his meaning that much more obvious.