Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
RAEGAN
I hadn’t realized exactly how many books I accumulated over the years until I was forced to pack them all into boxes. It feels as if eighty percent of what I own is books. This was made very obvious because by the time Jamie and I finish hauling them into his condo late Friday afternoon, there are only three boxes of household items and a suitcase left.
“Where are your clothes, Rae?” he asks, clearly out of breath.
I feel bad for making him carry my heavy boxes up and down the stairs, but I can’t deny how good his arms look under the weight. I keep finding new parts of Jamie that send an ache through my core. Like the veins in his hands and forearms.
As my eyes train on the tight grip he has on the box he’s carrying, I’m instantly transported back to when those same hands were gripping my thighs, and I can’t believe I spent over fifteen years ignoring all the gloriously attractive parts of him.
I refocus my lustful thoughts to his lingering question. “That’s what the suitcase is for,” I tell him, tossing my thumb over my shoulder.
It’s sad but true.
My closet leaves little to be desired. It certainly wouldn’t grab the attention of any influencers. The last time I cared about what I wore was in middle school. I had a uniform all through high school and then immediately started working. Other than the flowy tops and jeans I wear at Bound and Buried, most of my time is spent in loungewear and T-shirts. As a thirty-two year old, I find I’d rather be comfortable than fashionable.
“I thought you read on your kindle? What’s the point of all these books?”
“They’re my trophies,” I say, completely serious. “I read the ebook or listen to the audiobook, and then if I really liked it, I buy a physical copy for my shelves.”
Jamie stares at me with a blank face, silently judging me. He’ll be very excited about the bookshelves in storage I forgot to tell him about.
“Oh come on, give her a break.”
My friend Joanna comes around the front of her truck carrying another box I forgot about labeled KITCHEN. After she reached out earlier this week, we’ve had a few conversations here and there via text. We tried to coordinate a time to get together, but she was busy all this week and I couldn’t do anything this weekend because of the move. Out of nowhere, she offered to come help. I tried to convince her that was absolutely not necessary, but somehow she convinced me that she loves decorating. Eventually, I gave in so she could help me set up my bedroom while we caught up and had girl time. I did not expect her to be lifting my heavy boxes.
“Jo, you don’t have to do that,” I try to tell her for the third time.
She just shrugs and follows Jamie into the house.
“How else do you expect our dear little Raegan to escape from this cruel, cruel world?” she continues, replying to Jamie’s comment about my books.
I give her a grateful smile.
Jamie is smirking when I enter the living room. “Yes,” he concedes, “but do we have space for all that escapism?”
“Of course,” Jo responds. She sets the box down and gestures to the room around her. “Look at all this space. Plus, I bet you’ve got plenty of space in your room.” She grins maniacally.
The banter may be at my expense, but seeing the two of them get along makes me happy.
We make our way up the stairs and Joanna spots a forgotten box of books by the stairs. “I’ve got it,” she calls out, then follows Jamie and I up the steps to my bedroom.
Inside, I gently place a tote bag full of knick-knacks on the floor next to the stack of boxes Jamie has created. Instead of adding to it, Joanna drops her box on the bed.
I hear a massive CRACK , but before I can turn around, the damage has already been done. The bed frame has completely collapsed under the weight of the books, and the three of us stare flabbergasted at the now splintered wood protruding from underneath the mattress.
“Okay the books might actually be a problem,” Joanna deadpans.
I’m too shocked to speak, so instead, I just stare at the disaster me and my books have caused.
Yet, when I sneak a glance at Jamie, he doesn’t appear all that concerned. The exact opposite actually, he’s laughing.
“What the hell is so funny?” Joanna demands. “I was about to apologize, but never- fucking -mind.”
Jamie runs a hand over his face and rolls his eyes. “That bed was a hundred years old. It was my Nana’s when she was a kid.”
I knew this, but when Joanna and I glance at each other, thinking this detail should make the matter worse, Jamie starts laughing even harder.
After a moment, he manages to collect himself, hand splayed over his side as if clutching a stitch. “It was in storage after Nana died, but my mom insisted I put it in my guest room.” A chuckle overcomes him again, and this time it’s contagious. I can’t help but fight a giggle as Jamie leans his head back and continues to laugh open-mouthed at the ceiling. “I told my mom it would break if someone breathed on it wrong. Turns out it was Raegan’s smutty escapism.”
I roll my eyes and cover my face in embarrassment. Beneath my fingers I mumble, “I’ve slept in this bed a dozen times.”
“Yeah,” Jamie concurs, “but you’ve never thrown your full weight on it like it’s a trampoline.”
Now all three of us are laughing, but Joanna suddenly stops, holding her hand in the air to halt us. “Wait,” she starts. “Does that mean there’s only one bed in this house?”
The realization hits before her punch line even lands. Jamie doesn’t understand the significance, because he doesn’t read romance, but now my stomach is in knots. At this very moment, a moving company is hauling the bed from my apartment to the thrift store. I briefly consider calling and telling them to turn around.
Taking a nap with Jamie in his bed is one thing, but if I have to sleep next to him every night, my brain might actually short circuit with too many lustful thoughts.
Whether or not I want to take things slow, the universe seems to have a different opinion.
“Okay, while you two sort out whatever that means,” Jamie says, waving his hand between us, “I’m going to go grab your suitcase.”
“Wait!” I squeak. “What about the bed?”
He shrugs his shoulders, unconcerned. “You don’t need it.”
What in the name of Romance-Tropes does that mean?
I spend the next few hours building my retrieved bookshelf in my new room and organizing all of my books by genre. After every book is put away, Joanna convinces me they’d look better in a rainbow pattern, so we spend another hour rearranging. After that, we move to the kitchen.
I’m happy to say that Jamie’s agreement to let me bring all my lemon decor has not wavered. Yet. I’m not sure he realized just how much I have, but I’m sure when he sees how perfectly the yellow accents match with the sage green color of his walls, he won’t mind.
As I unwrap my lemon-shaped fruit bowl, I spy a family of ghosts outside the window as they float down the street. They look to be taking a late afternoon stroll around the neighborhood, and I make a note to say hello the next time I see them. I’m not sure how acquainted Jamie is with his neighbors, but I will definitely be bringing them a potted plant to introduce myself. It’s not like I can bake them cookies.
Joanna comes up next to me to investigate what I’ve been staring at, and it’s then I notice the family has a dog—also a ghost. I wonder if it found the family after death or if they’d already been together in life.
“I have a pit like that at the rescue right now,” Joanna tells me. “I wanted to spend time with her tomorrow and give her a bath, but I can’t take the time I need with her when there’s so much else to do.”
“Do you have help?” I ask.
Joanna rolls her eyes dramatically. “I did, but two volunteers backed out on me earlier today. Teenagers: they’re so lazy.” She groans. “I’m so jealous.”
“I can help,” I offer. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for helping me move.”
Joanna’s eyes go wide with equal parts shock and relief. “Really? You don’t mind?”
I snicker. “Why would I mind spending the day with dogs?”
“Ahhh,” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my middle and squeezing, “thank you, thank you!”
With my arms still pinned to my sides, I choke out a laugh. “What time do I need to be there?” I ask, trying to breathe.
Joanna finally lets go. “Just text me in the morning when you get up. Now,” she claps her hands together readily, “I have to ask you something.”
“Okay.” I’m caught off guard by her sudden change in subject, but I’m curious what she’s going to ask.
“Are you and Jamie hooking up?”
I almost drop the ceramic bowl in my hands. “What? Why would you think that?”
My visceral reaction only spurs her forward, and I wish I didn’t wear my emotions on my sleeve. “Because you two very clearly have chemistry.”
“We’ve been friends for years, Jo.”
“Yes, I can see that. But I’m not talking about friendly chemistry. I’m talking about bedroom chemistry.” If only she knew what we were doing on this counter yesterday. “All day he’s been looking at you like he wants to eat you. And what the hell was the comment about you not needing a bed?”
“ Jo! ” I hiss under my breath, hoping Jamie isn’t around to hear her.
“Okay, okay.” She holds up both hands in surrender. “You don’t have to tell me anything. He’s cute, though.” She winks. “I would most definitely let him step on me if I was in your shoes.”
“Jo.” I don’t exactly know what that means, but I get the general sentiment.
“Just know I’m a great listener when it comes to those sorts of things. You know,” she winks again, more suggestively, “smutty things.”
“Good to know,” I mutter, finally placing the lemon bowl in the center of the kitchen table.
“You girls wanna grab dinner?” Jamie’s deep baritone calls to us from the other room.
Joanna appears positively giddy. “Oh yeah, we can eat.”
Eager to change the subject I yell back to Jamie, “Coming!” and Joanna nearly bursts from the seams with joy.