He glances down at his feet and then back up at me. “Oh, this is going to be fun driving you nuts.”
“Try me. I’m pretty sure I know who’ll win.”
“Do you do this every time you come home from a trip?” JP asks around his mouthful of chocolate cookie dough ice cream.
“Yes.”
“What happens when you arrive home late?”
“Then I go to bed late.”
“So, you’re telling me, you need to steam and disinfect all of your shoes before you go to bed?”
I set down my steamer, pick up my bowl of ice cream, and take my last mouthful before setting it back down. “Yes. If I don’t, I won’t get any sleep. I told you, I have a system, and that system must be followed before I can tuck myself into bed.”
“I see . . . why do I find it strangely sexy?”
“Because you’re deranged,” I answer while finishing up with my last shoe. I put away my steamer and disinfectant and then zip up my suitcases—the smaller one in the bigger one—and set them by my door.
“Where do those go?”
“In storage. There’s a unit in the basement of the apartment building. It’s where I keep my holiday décor as well as any extra supplies like toilet paper, paper towels, and anything I might have purchased a surplus of because of a great coupon.”
“You’re so fucking efficient, it makes me want to bury my head between your breasts.”
I chuckle. “Are you saying you don’t have a surplus room?”
“Uh, I think mine is called a pantry.”
“Ah, true. Is it organized?”
He winces. “I think your nipples would curdle if you saw my pantry.”
“What about your bathroom? Is that organized?”
“My toothpaste has a specific spot on my counter, if that’s what you mean.”
“Your fridge, is it color coordinated?”
He scratches the side of his jaw. “I don’t even think there’s food in there.”
“Under your sink, are there drawers to hold your dishwasher pods?”
“I don’t do dishes.”
My eyes narrow. “Laundry?”
“I pay someone to clean my clothes.”
“Your closet, are your suits organized by color and texture?”
“Babe, I’m going to settle that craziness in your voice right now and tell you there’s no way in hell you will walk into my house and feel comfortable. It is unorganized.” He lies back on my bed and puts his hands behind his head. “That’s why I think it’s great that we spend a lot of time here.”
“Oh, no way. Uh-uh, not happening.” I shake my head. “Tomorrow, we shall spend our date organizing your house.”
He sits up on his elbows. “That’s not a date.”
“It is to me. I don’t think anything would make me happier than seeing you organize your shoes. Ooo, and we can go to the container store together, grab some food to go, and then just have a frenzy.”
“That doesn’t sound appealing.”
I walk over to him, straddle his lap, and place my hands on his chest. “I’ll wear a crop top, something where you can slip your hands around my bare skin whenever you get frustrated.”
His hands fall to my thighs. “I’m listening.”
“And you’ll be granted one solid make-out session, because frankly, I know I’ll be excited from all the organizing, and I’ll want some one-on-one lip time with you.”
He laughs. “Are you going to be mean about it? Or will you be gentle with my disorganized soul?”
I lean down so my mouth is inches from his. “Gentle. Always gentle.”
His hands smooth up my back, and then, in the blink of an eye, he flips me to my back and covers me with his strong, warm body. “You know I want to make you happy, but do you really want to spend our first date at my place organizing?”
“I do.”
He sighs heavily and then says, “Fine, but our next date is my idea. Got it?”
“I think that’s fair.” I grab him by the collar and pull him in close. He gently pushes my hair behind my ear, then cups my cheek before kissing me.
We spend the next half hour making out, and it’s everything I could ask for.
“Kelsey.”
“What?” I ask, spinning around, holding two bamboo containers that I plan on using for the protein bars in his pantry.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I glance down at my joggers and black crop top shirt. “Clothes. I told you I’d wear a crop top for you.” I came to his place with a sweatshirt on, but all the organizing has made me hot, so I ditched the sweatshirt.