I twisted, whacking my head on the side of the hatch frame. My eyes watered, and I rubbed my head as I looked up into an amused pair of eyes. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Garrett in almost a week since our cease-fire, and the sight of him sent a thrill through me. He stood a few feet away, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, looking unfairly good in a black pull-over hoodie.
“Oh. No, I got it. Thanks, though.”
“You sure? It looks like your helper is down for the count.”
I smiled, looking over the outline of Jamie’s unconscious form. I’d always been jealous of how deep of a sleeper he was.
Garrett’s gaze followed my own. “How old is he?”
I tensed. I couldn’t help it, the reaction second nature. “He’s eight.”
“He seems like a good kid,” he said, grabbing several bags in each hand.
“He is—hey, you really don’t need to do that.” I held my hands up, waving him off like a stray cat. “I promise, it’s fine.”
“I know it’s fine, that’s why I’m doing it.” Rounding me, he headed to my front door, hollering over his shoulder, “I’m being neighborly, Madison, you should really quit this hot and cold thing you got going on.”
I scrunched my nose, pushing my lips up to meet it. I think I preferred it when he didn’t talk. Determined not to let him do it all, I grabbed as many bags as I could and power-walked my ass to the porch with as much sass as I possessed.
He shook his head but was smart enough not to say a word. After the last trip, I again tried to wave him off, but the stubborn man refused to budge. “Let me help you carry them inside.”
He looked so earnest standing there, holding a shit ton of my groceries, but I’d been deceived by a pretty face and kind gestures before. I was very much aware that if I invited him inside, there wasn’t a soul who would hear me yell unless Jamie woke up and wandered in.
My thoughts must’ve been playing across my face because his expression softened. “I’m just trying to be civil, no ulterior motives. I’m not a gold digger either.”
A stray laugh escaped me, and despite my hesitancy and general common sense, I drooped in defeat. “All right, but don’t look to me for help if Rugpants chews your leg off.”
“Rug what?”
Unlocking my door, I shoved it open, stepping inside to flip the closest light switch before snatching my bags back up and leading Garrett Rowe into my house.
Sadie sprinted around the corner from Layla’s bedroom first, and I danced to the side, barely avoiding her collision. She moved on to Garrett, sniffing around his legs and wagging her butt at him while he tried to set the bags on the bar without tripping over her.
Freeing his hands, he reached down to scratch her head, “Is this Rug…man?”
The second his voice graced the air, a muffled yapping sounded from my bedroom, and I giggled. “Rugpants, and no, that’s Sadie.”
Yapping turned to growling when my dog entered the hall, her stubby legs working hard to bring her to the intruder. “That’s Rugpants.”
He leaned down to give her the same scratches, but she snarled, hair rising along her back. I stepped forward to apologize and grab her even though I’d told him I wouldn’t, but he surprised me by chuckling. “My grandmother had a long-haired dachshund. They’re feisty things.”
I picked her up, snuggling her angry body into my chest. “Yeah, she’s all bark but no bite. Come on, Sadie.” Setting Rug down at my feet, I fought against the side door and forced them both outside. She was still barking, but at least it was a little less ear-splitting.
When I turned back, his eyes were analyzing my patio door before they slowly moved around the living room. “It’s nice.”