God only knows the other reasons.
As I tick them off, I start to make arguments and counter arguments to each one. Hours later, I’m unable to turn my mind off.
I hate this about myself, but I’m a perfectionist to a fault.
The clock shows it’s eleven. I’m never getting to sleep at this rate. Unable to lie here anymore, I get out of bed and grab my laptop. The house is dark and quiet, so I head out to the back deck to sit on the porch swing.
It’s one of those perfect nights, thick with the summer air wanting to come in.
I love the end of spring.
I lift the top and the screen comes to life. I pull up my search results about Killian, reading through some of the notes I highlighted.
He was a professional football player who left when the company he invested in started to take off. The article talks about the injury he sustained his rookie year and how he didn’t see a lot of playing time after it.
After leaving football behind, he invested in his best friend from college’s company and together, they grew their real estate firm into a huge success. I look through photos of him and Nathaniel that have been shown over the years. Nathaniel is a good-looking guy—not anything like the specimen that Killian is, but not ugly.
Yet in every other photo there’s a woman who could be a supermodel on Nathaniel’s arm, where there’s not one of Killian with someone.
It’s funny to me because he’s ten times better looking, so why is he single?
Lord knows he’s a freaking god in bed. He’s smart, financially secure, in perfect shape, and has a fantastic dick. Which again, begs the question, why isn’t there someone standing next to him?
Why do I care?
Why am I now remembering his dick?
Oh, I know, because I want him to come out here, strip me naked, and make me forget my name again.
“You’re going to get eaten alive,” a deep voice says from the darkness.
I scream causing my laptop to fly in the air, which clatters on the ground, and I nearly leap out of my skin. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out all sense of reason.
“Easy, it’s just me.” Killian steps into the light, his hands raised. “Sorry, I saw a light and the motion detectors went off, so I came to check if everything was okay.”
“Right. No. Sure, I’m just…having a heart attack.” My hand is gripping my chest as I try to get control, but I’m shaking.
“Please don’t do that. I can’t handle the press claiming I did something to my publicist.” He leans down and grabs my laptop off the ground.
“Did I kill it?” I ask.
He checks it over. “No, it looks fine. I had no idea you’d throw the laptop.”
“Well, it’s late, dark, and all of a sudden someone was here.”
He grins, handing my computer back to me. “I didn’t want to scare you by just walking onto the porch in the middle of the night either.”
I’m not sure which would’ve been better since I’m…in my freaking pajamas. Great.
I hold my laptop against my chest, hoping to hide the lack of bra under my tank top. I remind myself that he’s already seen me naked, but still, we’re not doing that again. “I was just going over my notes.”
He shakes his head. “Did something change?”
“No, no. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss something. Sometimes, after a little time has passed, we’re able to see things better, you know?”
Not that I didn’t already spend three hours doing exactly that.
“Did you have an epiphany?”
