Page 10 of Luck Be Mine
“Doogie’s extra sofa from his den. He said his mother catches you without any furniture in your living room there will be hell to pay.”
It was a pisser when people adopted you.
“Is this the red velvet one with the arms and weird textures from his game room?” Hunt groaned silently, hoping against hope it was Doogie’s mottled beige one from the living room. But even as the thought landed, he knew there was no way the man would pass the good one off. It fit his size.
He worked on banishing the pained expression off his face. He didn’t succeed.
Baxter grinned and sat in the recliner. Moved from the bedroom, it was currently the room’s only chair. “Yep. It’s comfortable. I’ve slept on it.”
He sorted through his options.
Bax grinned. “Nope. Can’t stop it. Doogie, Carter, and Tommy are in the parking lot unloading.”
Red? He glanced around the empty room and couldn’t see it.
Doogie had a regular rotation of team members who crashed on the sofa. Hunt didn’t want them here. No furniture meant no one in his space, in his safe zone. Honestly, they needed a table and chairs more than they needed a sofa. Cait wouldn’t be straying too far from the bed any time soon.
Baxter raised a finger. “Oh, and my mom had a table and chairs. Doogie picked it up yesterday from Pasadena.”
“Is it red?”
Confused wrinkles crossed Bax’s brow. “No, it’s got brown legs and a green tile top.”
Great, they could have Christmas colors. “How many chairs?”
“Four, I think. I don’t live at my mom’s house anymore. You do know that, right?”
Hunt couldn’t tell whether Bax was being sarcastic or honest, so he went for a neutral answer. “I assumed.”
The man leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. “We want Doc to be comfortable, LT.”
Hunt scratched his head. “I understand, Bax. No worries. We’ll make it work. But pass on, nothing else. Cait has furniture in storage in Texas. As soon as she’s able, she’s going to arrange for the Army to move the stuff.”
Baxter slapped his knees and stood. “Gotcha. But in the meantime, we gotta keep our moms happy. Doogie’s got accessories, too.”
What did he know about mothers? Nothing. Nada. Because his mother was a member of the world’s most deplorable moms’ club.
A hard knock had Baxter jumping to the door.
Jason “Tommy” Thompson entered and with two fingers gave Hunt a saluted hello. The team’s sniper was one person who frequented Doogie’s red sofa sleeping arrangement.“Making sure the route is clear. This thing weighs more than I remembered.”
“I’ll get my shoes and come help.” Hunt went to the bedroom, checked on a sleeping Cait, and slipped into his running shoes. Returning to the living room, he sat and tied the laces. This was so…thoughtful.
“Not sure there’s room for all of us on the stairs, LT.” Tommy moved to the door, presumably to observe the progress of red velvet up the stairs. Good thing there were only fifteen steps.
Hunt went to the door and checked. John “Carter” Evans stepped carefully backwards on each stair as he balanced the weight of the six-foot sofa. The muscles in his arms bulged with strain. Doogie was on the downside, guiding and resting the weight of the sofa on his chest. They were about halfway to the front door. K-Rock covered the rear. His job seemly to catch Doogie?
Hunt watched them struggle a few more steps. “Need help, guys?”
“Naw, we’ve got it,” Carter grunted. Five more steps and they were near the top. How they planned to swivel into the apartment he’d leave to them.
Carter kept the sofa steady while Doogie powered up the last few stairs. Hunt moved into the apartment and got out of the way. Standing on end in the doorway, the red monstrosity was worse for wear.
“Oh my!” Cait’s soft voice from behind him expressed her dismay. She leaned on her crutch in the bedroom doorway, her hair tousled, his Navy shirt hanging on her frame. Her eyes wide, she gazed around. “Hey, Bax, Tommy. Carter, what’s this?”
“Surprise, Doc.” Carter’s neutral face gave no clue to his feelings.
“We brought a sofa for the living room.” Tommy’s shit-eating grin pretty much covered the whole deal.
