Page 31 of Fun and Games
"You can't take things out of the box before you read the instructions." Mason sounded almost appalled. "You need to know what all the pieces are for before you start throwing them around."
"If you want to take charge of this, feel free." I stood up and dusted off my hands on my pants. "I've got no real method to my madness."
Mason scooped down and grabbed the booklet from the floor. He opened it to the first page and pointed a finger at the first line.
"It says here we need to count all the screws and tiny bits first," he said. "That way we'll know if we're missing any pieces before we even get started."
"Sounds good," I replied. I didn't care either way, and if Mason wanted to follow a particular process, I wasn't going to be fussed about it.
True to his word, Mason read through all ten pages of the booklet before touching a single piece. I used the time to open all the boxes and throw away the ripped up tape, then took a seat on the nearest sofa and watched him.
I had thought the job might go quicker if I had Mason to help me, but it looked like it might end up taking a while.
Mason flipped through the pages, muttering to himself.
"Sixteen big screws," he said. "Eight small screws. Two different sized Allen keys."
"Do you want to get started on step one?" I asked. "We've been here for twenty minutes already."
Mason flipped the booklet closed and tossed it on the coffee table.
"I finished reading the instructions," he said. "Now we can get started."
But if Mason had thought reading the entire booklet ahead of time was going to help him, he was sorely mistaken.
He couldn't tell the difference between the different types of screws, he seemed baffled by all the small plastic bits, and he couldn't quite get the hang of using the Allen keys. And when it came to inserting shelf A into slot B, he was completely lost.
"I think it goes in this way," I told him.
He pursed his lips and examined the pieces of pressboard in his hands. He put down the shelving and ran a hand over his face.
"This is complicated," he said ruefully. "I really didn't think it would be this hard."
I resisted the urge to say I told you so.
"We'll go slow and take our time, " I told him.
Our second attempt was better than our first, and soon we managed to put together a bookshelf.
"We did it," Mason said triumphantly.
"One down, six to go," I said.
His face fell as he took in the other boxes scattered throughout the living room.
"We've got the hang of it now," I said, trying to sound reassuring. "It shouldn't take too long."
It turned out I was right and assembling the rest of the furniture only took another couple of hours. About halfway through Mason rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, revealing his forearms. I was fascinated by the muscles shifting under his skin as he picked up the heavy pieces, leaving the lighter ones for me.
Mason had been strong enough to hold me up against the wall, so I shouldn't have been surprised at how built he was. Seeing him carry furniture back and forth only reminded me of the way he could easily pick me up and manhandle me.
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back those wavy strands to reveal his tanned forehead and green eyes.
My heart beat faster. This guy was gorgeous. It was unfair, the effect he had on me. I was supposed to be focusing on the job, but here I was drooling over him.
"I really wish you were back to doing your dog-walking job," Mason spoke up. "I would much rather be playing with them all afternoon."
"You really love animals, don't you?" I asked. "Especially dogs."
