you need?”
“You already did grocery shopping too?” Jo looks at me like I’m either a freak or a god.
“I hired a housekeeping service to stock us up for a day or so. But I didn’t know exactly what to ask for, since I don’t know what you like. If something’s missing, we can go grocery shopping or have it delivered. Hugo, let’s take these boxes to the bedroom.” I start leading the way.
Hugo follows, leaving Jo behind in the kitchen. The master bedroom suite has a huge bed, covered with soft Egyptian cotton sheets. Jo can pick out furniture for the sitting area later. Something that will make her feel at home.
“Holy shit, man,” Hugo says, putting the box on the floor. “This is better than a suite at the Aylster.”
Well. At least something is impressing her cousin. I should hire someone to take pictures and make a scrapbook. That way, the next time Jo’s dad asks me what I bring to the table, I can show him.
Hugo walks into the closet. “Plenty of space for her things, too. And she going to love these mirrors.” He flashes me a dimple as he grins. “Not that she’ll look super glamorous. It’s going to be hilarious to see her in here once you’re done decorating.”
Hilarious? “What do you mean?” I’ve never seen Jo less than perfectly groomed and dressed.
“She just likes to be comfy at home. You know, old shirts and yoga pants. Can’t blame her, though. She always needs to look perfect to everyone outside. Fashion is like her armor.”
Except in bed, I think. In bed, she’s disheveled and uninhibited. Probably more politic not to mention that, though.
Hugo continues, “But with the family, she’s different.” He smiles fondly.
The possessive part of me is dying to see her when she’s relaxed, with her guard down. I want her to know we can be good together—a family that has each other’s back.
We go downstairs. Jo declares the fridge has everything she wants. I make a mental note to give an additional tip to the crew that came in today.
“Hey, can I order Chinese or do you want something different?” Jo asks. “I’m starting to get hungry.”
“Chinese works for me,” I say. “I want sweet and sour pork.”
“Me too,” Hugo adds. “Plus some shrimp fried rice.”
While Jo takes care of ordering dinner, Hugo and I bring in all the boxes and put them in the closet. We don’t try to unpack anything. Hugo says Jo has a way of organizing things so she can find what she needs quickly. After having seen her place, I have a feeling his definition of “organization” is different from mine, but…
By the time we’re done, the delivery guy arrives. Jo signs for it before I can, tipping the man.
“I was going to get that,” I say with a frown.
“It’s the movee’s job to feed the movers. Ask anybody,” Jo says lightly.
“Totally. How else are we to score free food?” Hugo starts to sit down at the table. Then his phone beeps, and he checks the screen. “Oh man. I gotta go. Samantha needs me.”
Jo gives him an annoyed look. “She knows you’re done for the day, right?”
“Yeah, but she texted me. Wants me to pick up a latte.”
I shake my head. She should’ve gotten her own coffee instead of making her assistant come back. Unless latte is a codeword for office quickie.
Jo stares at Hugo. “Who are you and what did you do with my piggy cousin?”
He laughs and gives Jo a quick hug. “You two lovebirds have fun. I’ll take a rain check on the dinner.”
“Hey, at least take some food with you.”
“Samantha doesn’t like Chinese.” Waving goodbye, he leaves.
She looks at the food on the table, hands on her hips. “Ugh. Now we have way too much.”
“It’ll keep.”
Her nose wrinkles. It’s oddly cute. “You sound like a typical man.”
“Because I am a man,” I say, amused by her reaction.
I put some General Tso’s chicken on her plate, then beef on mine, plus one broccoli floret. My doctor told me I need to do better with vegetables. Apparently ketchup and herb sauces don’t count.
She takes her plate with murmured thanks. “Yeah, but you’re rich. You’re supposed to be all like ‘I don’t eat the same thing twice’ and snobbish.”
“What do you think I eat when I’m working late at the office?”
She thinks for a moment. “Takeout filet mignon topped with caviar and gold flakes?”
I laugh until my stomach hurts and tears form in the corners of