My head pounds, but I make the effort to eat the breakfast Ham—Miles cooked me.
This is a first, a man cooking me breakfast.
Not exactly how I pictured it. When I imagined this moment, it was not this. The queasy sensation in my belly settles with every mouthful.
We eat in silence.
A comfortable silence. Like two people who are at peace in each other’s company. Not at all awkward like I expected it to be.
Huh.
As I take the last bite and set my fork down, the plate disappears as Miles rises.
Miles.
That will take some getting used to.
“I’ve got errands, but you can take a shower and I’ll run you home when I get back?” He rinses the plates and cutlery before turning around for my answer.
“Oh sure, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, Petal could use someone besides me to talk to.”
His gaze moves to the pup who has made herself at home on the couch.
I chuckle. “I can keep her company. I’ve missed her.”
Something unreadable flashes through his eyes and he nods and pads for a door I assume leads to the bedroom.
Sliding from the stool, I relax on the couch with Petal. “So, you really like it here, girl? One blink for yes, two for get me the hell out of here.”
She blinks.
Once.
“Fell for the handsome face, did you?” I press my forehead to hers.
“Doubt it, most likely the treats and daily walks, but who’s counting?” Miles rounds the couch, fully dressed in a polo and jeans. And he smells like...
Lust on legs.
Fuck a girl sideways.
My heart bursts into a pace I’m pretty sure doesn’t sustain life. I swallow as my gaze tracks over the angles of his jaw, the toned shoulders and chest stretching out his shirt.
He runs a hand through his hair that is somehow damp despite me not hearing him shower. His dark blond hair stands on end, messy...
Nope.
Nada.
Not going there, London.
He is yourboss.
A scant memory of Sandy and Owens huddled together on the booth seat last night flickers through my mind.
Isn’t that sort of thing forbidden?
