“It’s seven in the morning.”
Suddenly, I felt like an idiot for being there. I was great at reading people, but Flint was a totally different story. He got me all flustered with those bright-blue eyes and his sexy smirk. I couldn’t decide if I needed to work harder to get that smiling and laughing guy back or tuck tail and run before I made myself look like even more of a fool.
His eyebrow popped up when I didn’t immediately respond.
Yep, tucking tail it was.
“Umm . . . You know, on second thought, you don’t look like you are much in the mood for garage-saling.” I pulled the coffee from his hands and turned to squeeze back past him.
“Hey! You can’t take that back.” He swung the door shut, plunging the room into darkness.
“Holy shit,” I cursed, temporarily blinded.
Stumbling back a step, I felt him wrap an arm around my waist and drag me down into his lap. Coffee and soda sloshed in the cups as I landed on top of him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I continued to blink while my eyes adjusted. “How the hell did you convert your apartment into a dungeon?”
“Blackout curtains. I hate being woken up early by the sun.”
And stalkers too, I assume.
Spinning his wheelchair, he propelled us toward the hall.
“Um . . .” I mumbled, trying to climb off his lap, but his arm folded over my hips, locking me firmly in place. My hands were still filled with cups, so there wasn’t a whole lot I could do to fight against his grip.
Not that I really wanted to anyway.
He continued pushing us toward the bedroom. “We’re going back to bed. Then we can go to whatever garage you want to when we wake up.”
“But we’ll miss all the good stuff. You have to get there early or everything will be gone.” I turned to look at him over my shoulder, pouting my lips and batting my eyelashes.
He leaned forward and pecked my lips. “Yeah, but if you go late, you get the best deals when they start marking shit down to almost free.”
My eyes lit. “You’ve been garage-saling before?” I squealed in delight.
“Are you kidding? I used to take Quarry every weekend. I might as well be the king of yard sales.”
I smiled then returned his peck. “Look at us! We have common interests and everything.”
He released my hips in order to use both hands to maneuver his wheelchair around the tight corner into his room. “Is one of your interests sleeping in my bed? Because that is my favorite at seven A.M.”
I had never slept in Flint’s bed, but I could say with absolute certainty that it was my favorite interest of all. However, judging by the bulge that had grown in his pants, Flint didn’t really want to sleep. And if I crawled into his bed, I probably wouldn’t want to sleep either. Familiar nerves from the night before flooded me all over again.
After jumping off his lap, I set both cups on his nightstand. “Come on. I need some new jeans, and I want to find some stuff to spruce up your boring apartment. We need to hit ’em early.”
“I’m not letting you decorate my apartment. I’d end up with neon curtains and sequined throw pillows.”
“Well, clearly, not all of our interests are the same, because that sounds fabulous.”
He shook his head. “My apartment’s just fine the way it is.”
“Okay, okay. But you can’t stop me from at least getting you a welcome mat.”
He tilted his head. “A welcome mat? So I can wipe my feet before I come inside?”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Wheels. Dirty feet or not, a welcome mat would go a long way in making this place a little more inviting.”
“Who exactly am I supposed to be welcoming?” he teased, intertwining our fingers.
“Uh. Me. I need to feel welcome or I’m gonna stop coming back. The resident isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.” I tilted my head, mirroring his. “Well, that’s not true. He’s kinda fuzzy.”
A toothy grin formed on his mouth. “Fine. Let me get dressed. Then we’ll find you a welcome mat.”
“Yay!” I clapped. “Be quick about it. A neon, sequined welcome mat is going to be difficult, but I bet, if we get a move on it, we can beat the rush and at least find one with kittens or puppies.”
“Dear God,” he breathed, rolling himself over to his dresser.
As much as I wanted to stay and watch Flint get dressed, I opted to warm up his coffee instead.
“Six for a dollar.” Flint haggled with a woman behind the small folding table at our last stop for the day.
“They are basically brand-new books on sale for a quarter apiece. I can’t go any lower than that,” she responded.