Page 41 of The Jellybean Dilemma

“I’ll wait. I just want to change into something comfy and get out of these shoes.”

He offered his arm once more, a knowing grin sprawling across his face. This time I used him to balance against as I shed my heels and let out a sigh of relief.

“Better?”

“Much.” I rubbed first one foot, then the other, before letting go of his arm.

We stood there for a moment before he glanced at the door. “How about I bring in all the stuff? I can take it right up to our suite since no one will bother us there. You go get changed.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I sat on the couch in my hip-hugging yoga pants and form-fitting T-shirt with my bare feet tucked under me when he hauled the first load into the sitting room.

He took one look at me and groaned. “Does it have to be those pants?”

“Who made you the wardrobe police?” I stuck my tongue out. “Are you going up to the hotel for dinner?”

The boxes slid to the floor with a gentle thump, surprise crossing his face. “No, not unless you don’t want me here.” Hurt underlined his words.

What? “No, I just wasn’t sure what your plans were.”

He surveyed the boxes then glanced back at me. “Same as yours and just as…what was the word you used? Scintillating?”

I gaped at him. “You’re going to stay here and help me make favor bags?”

“Yeah. I mean, how else are you going to get them all done?” His eyebrows knit together, and his mouth crooked in puzzlement.

It was so unexpected, I couldn’t contain my reaction. I leapt off the couch and threw myself at him, almost knocking both of us over with the force of my hug.

“Rhonda?” he murmured in my ear as he gingerly patted my back, “You okay?”

My voice was muffled from my face being buried in his shoulder. “Kevin never would have done this. Neither would Yolanda or Fawnda.” I squeezed him tighter, and his arms wrapped around to hold me, too. “Thank you, Greg.”

“You’re welcome.” His words came out rougher than I expected. He held me for another beat, then he tugged me off him. “I’ve got one more load, okay? I’ll be right back.” He waited for my nod before he left.

I was still stunned that he’d stay to help. Several times over the years I’d asked my so-called friends to work with me on one of my charity events, folding pamphlets, creating menus, stuffing goody boxes. Yeah, we’d had volunteers too, but if I was on the committee, I wanted to contribute, give it that personal touch. They’d promise to help, but when it came right down to it, it had always been me.

Greg just assuming we were doing it together threw me off-balance. My throat tightened, warmth blooming in my heart. This was the kind of relationship I so desperately wanted.

When he returned with the last two boxes, he disappeared into his room, coming back out in those ass accentuating, or maybe ass-entuating, sweatpants I’d drooled over this morning. He gave me a smug smirk, and I knew he’d done it on purpose as payback for my own outfit. At least he still wore a shirt, even if it was a soft, knitted one that hugged his torso.

“So, how do we want to do this?” He looked to me for guidance.

I surveyed the boxes, trying to formulate a plan. “Well, we’re missing two key things.” He started to protest, but I continued, “Booze and music.”

A smile spread across his face. “I’ll go raid the wine cellar.”

“I’ll get something going on my phone.” While he was gone, I pulled up a playlist that reminded me of dancing with Papa. I cranked up the volume and pushed play, then got to work organizing our items for an ideal assembly line.

Most things were in order when he came back with two bottles of white wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. He grinned at my progress. “Wow, that was quick,” he said loudly, wanting to be heard over Journey blasting from my phone.

“I thought we could start from here with a gift bag and just go down the line. We’ll have to add in the truffles tomorrow.”

He frowned, assessing my setup. “What if we did half and half? You do these items, then pass the bag to me and I do these ones? Then we each have our own workspace and aren’t interrupting the flow as much. I could be behind the couch, bring in the end tables from my room.”

My smile came of its own accord. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Ah, I see where your priorities lie.” His teasing smirk turned heated as his gaze drifted down my length. He swallowed then went to open the wine.

I returned the favor, watching him walk away. This could be an interesting night.

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