She smiled at his ferocity. “Got it.”

“Now, what’s this damn ‘honey-do’ list you’ve got lined up for your man?”

“It’s not a ‘honey-do’ list; it’s a project.”

“I’m good with projects.”

Were her eyes deceiving her, or did Deacon actually look happy about helping her? She grabbed his hand and towed him into the spare bedroom before he changed his mind.

Inside the room, Deacon looked at the furniture on the plastic tarp, next to the cans of paint and the sanding blocks. “What did those bookcases do to piss you off?”

“I needed to change something, and sanding the bookcases was a great outlet for my aggression.”

“Was there something wrong with the bookcases that they needed to be fixed?”

“No. I just wanted to give them a fresher look.”

“Fresher look,” he repeated. “Babe. I don’t even know what the fuck that means. If you wanted something different, why didn’t you just buy it?”

Molly counted to ten. It wasn’t Deacon’s financial status that kept him from understanding; it was his Y chromosome. “Because I can’t buy it the way I want it. That’s why it’s called a ‘do it yourself’ project. On one of the home-improvement channels, I watched a woman revamp her old bookcases, and they turned out amazing. Totally changed the look of her entire room. Since I needed a distraction last week, I started this project.”

“Probably a more productive distraction than punching the fuck out of everyone who crossed your path.”

Men. “Yeah. It helped.”

Deacon crouched down for a closer look at the mess. “It’s a woman thing, huh?”

“What?”

“Changing shit, rearranging shit, revamping shit.”

“I guess. Although some guys like to do it too.”

He snorted disbelief at the very idea of that.

She bristled. “If you don’t want to help—”

“I do wanna help, but I gotta be honest. I don’t understand why you took perfectly good bookcases and sanded the varnish off them . . .” He bent over the largest bookcase. “Jesus. Did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Beat on this with a hammer or a chain? There are dents fucking everywhere.”

“Yes, I used both, actually. It’s a distressing technique that’s supposed to make it look antiqued.”

“Taking a hammer and a chain to oak makes it look like a psycho decided to redecorate.”

“Deacon!”

He turned, his face registering surprise at her sharp tone. “What?”

“Get out. I do not need your criticism when you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I’ve been looking forward to finishing this project, and you will not suck the joy out of it for me.”

Deacon looked confused.

“Seriously. Get out. Go watch TV or something.”

“Watch the TV that’s sitting on the floor because you took it off the bookcase so you could revamp it?”

“Omigod. We are so breaking up over this.”

He laughed. “Come here.”

Molly crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

“Fine.” He moved to stand in front of her. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You get a kick outta doin’ this stuff? Then I’ll stand by and watch you be happy about it.”

“Really?”

“Really. Can’t promise I’ll ever understand it. Knox even warned me about this when I helped him put up shelves in the baby’s room.” He smirked. “It was a design idea Shiori saw on one of the home-improvement shows. Knox threatened to put a block on those channels. But for all his bitching, he still did it. He calls them ‘honey-do-me’ projects; if he gets them done, he gets to do his wife.”

“Cynical.”

“But true.” He touched her nose with his. “And I’ll bet you look really fucking cute covered in paint.” His eyes lit up. “Please tell me you wear them cutoff overalls and no shirt when you’re painting.”

“No, pervert.”

“Probably a good thing. If I see you dressed like that? I’d drag you off to bed for hours.”

“Make yourself useful and flip these bookcases over so I can paint the backs.”

“They’re already painted. And no offense, babe, but I noticed you missed a few spots.”

Molly beat her head into his chest with mock frustration. “I sanded that paint off on purpose. So how about you are the muscle in this project, while I handle the artistic side.”