Page 97 of Beautiful Storm

“Are you mocking me?” I frown. I love those pictures.

“What? No, I actually want them. I remember watchingLabyrinthwith you as a kid.”

“You remember that?” I’d somehow forgotten.

“Yep. It traumatized me when those fiery things pulled out their eyes.” He shivers, making me laugh. “But David Bowie was cool.”

“He was. Though I wasn’t worried about you taking any of my possessions. It was more about me—”

“What do you want, Joy? Whatever it is, it’s yours. We don’t need a prenup.”

“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Luke laughs again and I have to shake my head. “You drive me crazy; you know that?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s why we work.” He walks over to the boxes of furniture I have laid out on the floor after once again catching me off guard. “Where should we start?” he asks, snapping me back into the present as I hide my frown, my pulse spiking.

It’s why we work.Something about that warms my heart and yet it’s confusing as hell.

We stand back to study the crib and I burst out laughing. “What did you do?” I can’t put my finger on it but something is definitely wrong. I tilt my head to the side, just as Luke does the same, and when I glance his way, he’s frowning with the most puzzled expression in place.

“What did I do?” he questions, his frown deepening. “I followed the instructions but… Ah shit.”

“What?” I bite back a smile. “What happened?”

“I put the left side on the right side.”

“That shouldn’t matter, should it?”

“It matters if you want to see the cutesy pattern rather than the unpolished ridges.”

“Oooh. Whoops. I forgot about the ‘cutesy’ pattern.” I bite back a smile at his description. "Yes, I want to see that.”

“I’m going to have to take it apart.”

“It’s almost midnight. I’m pretty sure there’s a law about noise at this time of night.”

“Damn.” Luke scratches his head. “You’re right. I’ll come back and fix it tomorrow so you can have it all set up. But tonight I can help with the wall stickers. That’s pretty quiet.”

I smile as a tightness works its way into my chest. “I appreciate it, but you don’t have to help with that.”

“Will you need to reach up high?”

“Yes.”

“I’m helping.”

“I have a stepladder, or I can stand on the bed. I’m good. I don’t—”

“Where’s the box, Amelia?”

“Luke.”

“I saw it around here somewhere.”

“Tha—”

“Let me do this,” he pleads and I freeze, even though I was going to say thank you. “Please,Amelia. I feel useless. It’s the least I can do.” The sincerity in his eyes almost breaks me, and my heart once again slams in my chest.

“I was trying to say thank you. I’d love your help with the stickers up high. I’ll do the ones I can reach. But your skills better be perfect.”

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