Used to the fact that his dick had a mind of its own when Olivia was around, he ignored it and picked up the garbage bag. It was heavier than he’d expected, but soft, likely filled with bedding or towels. He adjusted his grip and peered into the open carboard box. It was full of kitchen stuff, neatly and tightly packed. Since he doubted she’d need a set of measuring cups or an instant read thermometer tonight, he nudged it aside and picked up the plastic tote under it.

It was light, so he tucked it under his arm, and with the garbage bag slung over his shoulder, walked quietly to the stairs.

The second floor was dark, and his cat had a tendency to sprawl across the top of the steps or dart between his feet when he walked, so he moved cautiously until he reached the guest bedroom. He opened the door, then set the tote and garbage bag on the floor before flipping on the light and looking around with a critical eye.

He tried to keep the room guest-ready, since his mother had a habit of volunteering his house to out-of-town visitors, so the bed was already made. He noted that his cleaning lady had taken care of the layer of dust that had coated the small desk the last time he’d poked his head in, and the plant on the little table by the south facing window was thriving.

Lucy clearly deserved a raise.

He made a mental note to take care of it in the morning, and, leaving the light on and the door open, ducked into the hall bath. Clean towels were stacked on the open shelf under the sink, and the subway tile he’d laid himself gleamed. There were a couple of bottles in the shower, the shampoo and conditioner his sister Tatiana favored, plus a small bottle of body wash that had been part of a gift basket he’d gotten for Christmas last year.

Satisfied that the rooms were ready for her, he trooped back down the stairs for the rest of Olivia’s stuff.