His eyes soften with amusement, and something warmer. “So you were running?”
“No!” I squeak. “I was strategically retreating!”
He laughs. God, he laughs—low, warm, amused—as he walks toward me. He drops onto the edge of the bed, leans in, and tucks a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheek. My stomach flips.
“You don’t have to run from me,” he says quietly.
My throat goes tight. “I wasn’t—“
“Shiloh.” His voice is gentle but firm. “I remember everything from last night. I wasn’t drunk enough to not know what I was doing. I was lucid for every single moment of it.”
I look down at my hands, twisting the blanket. “I just… don’t want you to think I’m some girl who throws herself—“
“I don’t,” he interrupts softly. “Not for a second.”
That almost undoes me. Instead, I clear my throat. “Okay. Well. Um. I should probably take a shower.”
He nods and stands, grabbing a T-shirt from his closet. “Here. You can change into this.”
I blink. “That’s huge.”
“It’ll look good on you. The one you’re wearing already does,” he winks at me, reminding me that I’m already dressed in his T-shirt.
He gives me a pair of sweats next.
“They’ll fall off,” I point out.
He smirks again. “Then hold them up.”
I glare, but it has absolutely no effect on him whatsoever.
While he goes to distract Aria, I shower, very quickly, because the last thing I want is to be caught half-naked by a nine-year-old, and throw on his clothes. The shirt hangs off one shoulder, and the sweats are rolled three times. I look like I’m wearing clothing stolen off a giant, and weirdly enough, I like it.
When I come out, Cole is flipping pancakes while Aria chatters about a boy in her class who cried during math.
Then she spots me and gasps dramatically. “I knew it was you, Miss Ella.”
I freeze, and Cole nearly drops the spatula.
“Hi, Aria. Good morning,” I smile through the panic, sliding onto the stool next to her.
“Good morning, Miss Ella.”
Cole distracts her by sliding a plate of pancakes in front of her.
I sit, eat a pancake while smiling and trying not to die of embarrassment.
Breakfast is… strangely nice. Cozy, domestic, like a tiny family moment I have absolutely no right to enjoy. Which is exactly why I have to get out of here. It’s getting too real too fast.
“Okay, I have to go,” I announce, wiping my hands and standing.
“You do?” Aria pouts.
“Yes,” I lie. “Work stuff. Lots of work stuff.”
Cole gives me a look—one eyebrow lifted, that same amused, doubtful expression. “Shiloh—“
“I’ll see you at the ranch,” I cut in quickly. “Since you’re moving in. Temporarily. Professionally,” I stutter.
