Page 68 of Auctioned to Dr. Daddy

“I couldn’t get my mind to turn off,” I say, grabbing a paper towel and passing one out to each of the three men that have shown up to help me pack. The only downside to good pizza is that it’s greasy as hell.

It’s a small downside.

Marginal, even.

Totally worth it, considering how amazing the rest of it is. I can’t help but go back for a second slice, using my fingers to roll it into a partial cone and then poke it toward Carter. “Okay, you and I can get the dishes.”

“We’re going to start in the living room,” says Costas. He grabs one of the cans of beer and cracks it open, sticking the rest of the case into my fridge. Then he vanishes into the living room.

Nathan grins at me. “Guess we’re going to start in the living room.”

He leans in long enough to press a kiss on my cheek and then vanishes from the room, too.

I turn to address Carter, making a broad gesture with my slice. A drop of grease splatters onto the floor at my feet. Thankfully, the kitchen has tile in it. “How did this even happen? I haven’t told anyone that I was moving yet!”

Carter shrugs. “I mean, Nathan technically only asked Costas to give him a hand with this stuff. I just happened to be in the lounge at the time, and figured, hey, you could probably use more than just two sets of hands. Plus, there’s no way that I’m going to turn down a shot at free pizza.”

“Even if it comes with the requisite of helping pack a fully and totally unpacked house?”

“Free pizza,” repeats Carter, snagging a particularly large bacon crumble off one slice. “You literally can’t get better than that.”

So we all set to work, the four of us hurrying through the tasks at hand. Costas’s brother works at a construction site and loaned out his truck, which means it’s easy to cart the furniture up to the big house behind the barn. It’s an absolutely gorgeous place, modern and well-lit, with large windows that let in the sun.

There’s a wood-burned horse detailing above the mantle of the fireplace, and the stairs wrap up to a second floor that might be even more beautiful than the first. And it’s big. It’s seriously big, especially compared to where I have been living.

Hours pass. We take a break to have another round of pizzas delivered. The couch is moved, the bed, the bookshelf. Carter and I wrap the dishes and my collectibles with newspaper, and Costas uses his truck to cart the boxes up to the new house, too.

The fact that everything is on the same property is absolutely a boon. It makes things so much easier, like a quick shortcut that most people don’t get when they’re moving.

Every time I step outside of the guest house, Lightning trots over the line of the fence, tilting his head this way and that way. He snorts any time that someone comes out with a box, and trots along the line of the fence, racing after the truck when it heads up the drive.

We don’t get the whole place packed and moved today, but we do put a huge dent in it.

Soon enough, it’s late evening and everyone’s about ready to go home. I didn’t move any of the furniture and I’m still exhausted—though I can’t complain too much because watching Nathan’s biceps flex as he lifted up the heavier pieces absolutely made the day.

Costas leaves first, loading up the last of his beer and pulling slowly down the drive, and Carter gives me a hug before asking, “So, the leftover pizza?”

“Have at it,” I tell him, laughing.

“Sweet!” Carter gives a sharp fist bump and then ducks into the house, grabbing the two boxes of pizza that were still on the table and shoving them into the passenger seat of his little beat-up green four-door.

He pulls out too, though he’s quicker about it than Costas—either more confident that he’s not going to catch a pothole or just that impatient to get home and finish off the pizza.

Either way, it’s soon just Nathan and I standing on the front porch of the guest house, like we have a dozen other times before. The sky burns with the oncoming twilight hour.

“I can’t believe that you pulled something like that off,” I say, turning and shaking my head at him.

Nathan reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You have the big house. You might as well be using it. And I got the feeling last night that it was going to take you a… long time.

That knocks a laugh out of me. “Because I spent too much time going through my tee shirts?”

“Mhm. Was I wrong?” Nathan steps closer to me, backing me up against the railing of the porch. I lean against it, the wood digging into my lower back even as I reach up and wrap my arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You might not have been,” I admit. “But I just— You can pull off anything, huh?”

“Not quite anything,” Nathan says. “We didn’t get this place finished in one day.”

“In everyone’s defense, I have a lot of things,” I tell him. “A lot of unpacked things, that are absolutely a pain to try and get in order.” My hands run over his arms, feeling his biceps beneath my palms, relishing in having him this close to me. “But you know, I think that I can make it up to you.”

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