Page 52 of Embers of You
“Do you know him well?”
She scoffs. “No, I mean not really. We’ve been neighbors for a couple of years so I know that he’s a selfish dick. And heclearlydoesn’t know what respect is.”
“Hm,” I hum, wanting to know more information, but she clearly isn’t going to give it up.
“Anyway, feel free to file a noise complaint on him. Maybe if he gets enough of them, something will actually be done.”
I chuckle softly. “Okay.” I won’t be doing that, but she’s fired up and I’m not about to argue with her about it either.
“Alright, well I have to head to work, but have a good day.”
“You, too,” I call out, walking the short distance back home with Bennet.
Once inside, I place my hands on my hips and look around. I guess I have a day of distraction ahead of me.
When I was toldmy couch was going to be delivered, I didn’t realize it was going to be a whole ass couch I’d have to get through the door and set up by myself. For some reason I figured it would be in pieces, and I would have to put it together.
Apparently, I was wrong. As much as I’m a strong independent woman, having a man around would be really helpful in these situations. Too bad Bennet doesn’t count.
I let out a sigh, placing my hands on my hips and looking across the street. I could always ask Bailey, or maybe even Wes. Though I’ve never really spoken to him and he seems so intense all the time, so I’m not sure how that would go over. Especially with how the day started with him.
There’s also Jameson.
I’m not sure if he’s on shift right now, but if he’s free then I know he would run over here if I called.
But I don’t know if I should.
After what happened at his house, I feel like I’m tip-toeing in dangerous territory with him. I know that at some point we won’t be able to come back from it if it goes much further. I should just continue to distance myself even more.
The thought causes a pang in my gut I choose to ignore.
“I can do this,” I declare to no one, right before I start to pull the couch into my house.
It’s way heavier than I expected it to be and I’m straining as I try to pull it inside. I pause, already breathing heavily as I stare at the piece of furniture half inside the threshold. I climb over it to the other side and see if pushing it is easier.
My feet slide on the concrete as I push and I don’t think this is much better. I end up sliding onto the ground completely and groan. “Dammit.”
I mentally go over my options again, waiting for Bailey or Wes to be home and asking if one of them could help me…calling Jameson.No. I can do this.Standing up, I try pushing, again, and manage to get it past the front door before I have to take a break, flopping down on the couch that’s now blocking the front door and I can’t bring myself to even care.
I could leave it like this. It’ll be fine, right?
At least it’s comfortable. That should make this all worth it.
Bennet ends up climbing onto the couch with me and on top of my body, practically crushing me.
“Bennet, I can’t breathe,” I croak, his weight and fur are suffocating me and he doesn’t even seem to care. “Are you trying to take me out and have the place to yourself?”
He rests his head onto my face, and I turn away so his drool doesn’t get in my mouth. “Get off,” I demand, trying to push him off.
He grumbles and doesn’t move, but I manage to roll myself out from underneath him and drop onto the floor. I look at him, still laying on the couch, completely unbothered and narrow my eyes. “You’re a problem.”
He doesn’t move, and I know there’s no way I’m going to get anywhere with this couch and the added hundred and fifty pounds of fluff that are now on it. I climb over once again to get in position to push. “Bennet, off. You can take it over later.”
At first he doesn’t listen, and I have to give him some pats on his butt to get him to jump off. Once he finally does, I get back to pushing it into the living room. When I go to turn it, it’s a little too soon and I end up pushing it into the wall. I cringe, hoping I didn’t do any damage and somehow manage to get it turned and into the spot I wanted it.
My arms may feel like Jello, but I’m proud of myself, as I stand there, taking it all in. When I turn to look at the wall, my pride drops because there’s a big gouge in the wall where the couch hit it, and I throw my head back on a groan.
Could I figure out how to fix this myself? Yes. Am I done being an independent woman for the day? Kind of.
