Page 9 of Flaunt
“I’ll be home in about an hour, and we’ll eat. See you there,” Maddox says.
“Okay.”
I giggle.
“Bye,” Maddox says.
“Bye.”
He ends the call and puts the phone back in his pocket.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cave as quickly as you,” I tease. “Is roasted chicken your weakness?”
“I don’thavea weakness.” He nods toward the nuts in my hand. “Don’t lose those.”
“There.” I push them to the corner of the counter. “Secure.”
Banks grabs the towel beside me, his knuckles brushing against my bare legs. If he notices the chill that snakes through me, he doesn’t mention it.
He drops the towel on the floor. Then he waves me over to him.
I hop down, my feet smacking against the cold tile.
“Grab the other side of this and help me move it,” he says.
I make a face. “Um …”
He looks at the ceiling.
This is reminiscent of one of our—many—disagreements in Orlando. Banks couldn’t get it through his head that I accompanied him on the trip for entertainment value and to run interference in case Ashley’s jerkoff ex-fiancé showed up.Ashley didn’t want Banks going to jail over her twice in one week.No, Banks expected me to help move heavy, dirty boxes in the sweltering sun in the oven that was the storage unit.
“It’s … gross,” I say, gesturing to the porcelain. “It’s filthy. And … gross.”
“You already said that.”
My hands go to my hip. “Well, it’s deserving of two grosses. It’s a toilet.”
“That your ass sits on every time you come in here. Now grab this thing and help me, or your landlord can handle your vibrator.”
“This is not a gentlemanly thing to do,” I say, gingerly touching the parts that feel dry. “Should we use gloves for this?”
He looks over the toilet bowl at me. “Do you have any?”
“No.”
“Then we don’t need gloves for this. Lift it up now.”
The damn thing is heavier than I anticipated, and it takes a bit of muscle to get it off the floor and onto the towel. Water sloshes from the bowl onto the floor.
“Good thing I’ve been working out, huh?” I flex for him. “I think I did more than half of the work there.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Now what, Mr. Fix It?” I ask.
He crouches down and uses the flashlight on his phone to peer into the back of the toilet.
“Do you see it?” I ask.
