Page 26 of Quiet Beautiful Things

I shrug.

“You’re kind of acting like a bitch considering I’m doing you a favor here.”

At least I think that’s what he said.

With my hands occupied lifting the box, I can’t tell him I’m deaf. I shake my head, not knowing what else to do.

The guy looks pissed. And just as we reach the door, he drops his side of the TV. Not sets it down—drops it. Then he looks behind me, spouts angry words that I can’t decipher, and storms off to his car.

I set my side down and quickly look at the bottom corner of his side of the box. It’s slightly crushed. I hope he didn’t just damage the TV.

Movement catches my eye and I spin. The guy is still shouting out of his car door. But not at me. Then I see Blake, all sweaty in his running clothes, looking as handsome as he does pissed.

I’ve learned a lot about the heartthrob coming toward me over the past twenty-four hours. Word got around at the school that Blake Montana has a child and I’m the one working with them. No less than a half-dozen coworkers visited my office to fill me in on the guy who apparently slept his way through every co-ed in college. Looking at him, I see the appeal. I mean what red-blooded woman wouldn’t? He carries himself with such confidence. And not in a cocky,I’m all thatkind of way. More like a guy who knows what he wants and goes after it. Not to mention he’s now entered sexy, single dad territory. Why that combination of dangerous and desirable brings a flush to my cheeks, I may never know.

As he approaches, he keeps a suspicious eye on the asshole in the car who’s parking one building over.

I lean the box against the building and get my phone out.

Me: What just happened?

“I should ask you that. I was running by and saw that jerk yelling at you. Who was he?”

Me: I thought he was a good Samaritan helping me move this up to my place. I Ubered it home from the store. He pulled up and offered to help. He got mad when I didn’t speak to him.

“He said some pretty nasty things. Does that happen a lot?”

I shrug. I don’t want to scare him and tell him things like thatdohappen, and that Maisy will have to learn to have thick skin.

Me: My hands were busy holding the box. I couldn’t exactly convey that I’m deaf. It was my fault. I never should have bought this beast without help.

“Well, you have help now. And, Ellie, it wasn’t your fault. That - - - had no right to say the things he said to you.”

I narrow my eyes, having gotten most but not all of what he said. “Say again,” I sign.

Blake: I said I’ll help you. It wasn’t your fault. And that douchebag had no right to say those things to you. I saw him drop the box. I hope he didn’t break it. If he did, I’ll get you a new one.

Me: I have my own money, Blake. But thanks for helping.

Blake: Let’s just get this up to your place and see what we’re dealing with.

With Blake’s help, we’re up the stairs and in my apartment in no time. “Thank you,” I sign, not even sure he understands it.

I’m delighted when he says, “You’re welcome. Where do you want it?” He pulls a key out of his pocket and uses it like a knife to open the box.

Me: You don’t have to do this.

Blake: Ellie, I don’t see anyone else around who can help you lift it up. This thing weighs a hundred pounds. Over on that console?

I nod and sign, “Yes. Thank you.”

We spend the next few minutes unboxing it, removing the packaging, and peeling off the cellophane covering the screen. He secures the stand to the bottom, then together, we set it on the console. He puts the batteries in the remote, flashes his crossed fingers at me, and presses the power button.

When the SmartTV menu appears, I’m relieved.

Blake: Good thing. I got the fucker’s license plate. I was going to hunt him down and make him buy you a new one.

I furrow my brows and text him back.

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