By noon, Lucas had successfully stacked an alarming number of boxes on his porch.
One was teetering at a dangerous angle.
"You're going to break that," Emma called, unable to help herself.
He turned just as the box slipped, flailing as he caught it against his chest. Didn't break it. See? Reflexes?
She raised an eyebrow. "Sure."
Lucas grinned. "Actually… Could you help me for a minute? I can't find the box with the kitchen stuff."
Emma followed him inside. The house smelled of sawdust and paint. He rummaged around and lifted a box labeled "Books: Do Not Open First."
"I swear I labeled everything," he muttered.
Emma nudged a small box near his foot. " This one says 'Kitchen'."
Lucas blinked. "You are officially my hero."
Emma felt her cheeks warm. When was the last time someone looked at her like that?