Chapter Sixteen
MILO
The minute I heard that shower turn on last night, I knew I’d made a horrible mistake. There was no wiping my mind of the mental image of Jill Holloway standing under a stream of hot water, hands running over her tits and steam billowing around her. Even thinking about it now gets me half hard.
Honestly, I feel like a first-class idiot, which explains why I lost my shit last night and barked at her. Not only did I get Rayna to let me into the SWiN so I could confiscate Jill’s belongings, I followed that up by going on a ridiculously thorough grocery run and tidying up the house. Then I all but kidnapped her on my bike and brought her back to my lair where I listened to her shower and shouted at her.
It was only a matter of days ago that my life was quiet, simple, where the biggest wrench in my routine was an odd thunderstorm during my morning swim. Now look at me. I’m running around town like an asshat, abducting women who hate me.
I sip my coffee and flip through the news on my phone. There’s a voice message from my mom that I’ll bet money has something to do with the Thanksgiving holiday coming up, but I’m ignoring it for now. Without Felicity here, there’s no reason for me to put myself through a dinner with Sherry and Brix or Brox or whatever the hell her boyfriend’s name is, so I imagine I’ll be heading to Mom and Morris’s place. I wonder for a second what Jill’s doing for the holiday and then I shove the thought aside.
“Morning.” And speak of the devil. Jill greets me on a yawn, and I’m relieved to see she’s wearing clothes this morning. An encore of yesterday just might kill me at this point.
“Mornin’,” I respond around my coffee mug. “You sleep okay?”
She sighs. “Like the dead.”
That makes one of us.
“I’m done in the bathroom, so it’s all yours,” I tell her. It’s ten in the morning, and I’ve been up since the crack of dawn. I already swam two miles, and this is my fourth cup of coffee. I’m pretty certain I could power a small watercraft at this point.
“Coffee first.” Her voice is practically a groan as she pours herself a cup, and I clench my teeth at the sound.
“Listen, I gotta head into work. The fridge is stocked so help yourself, and I’ll leave a key so you can lock up. Not that there’s much of anything to steal, but some people are stupid.”
“Okay, cool. I need to head in soon too.” She turns from the counter. “Um, so this is super awkward, but do you have time to drop me off if I take a really quick shower?”
This would be the perfect time to ask her what the hell’s going on, but I’m starting to think it might be better for me if I don’t know after all. It’s clear that my brain does stupid shit when she’s around, and the last thing I need is to place myself in the middle of someone else’s drama. I need to take a page from my dad and Hobbs on this one and just focus on myself.
“Here.” I toss the keys to the beater on the counter next to her. “It ain’t pretty, and the clutch sticks, but it’ll get you where you need to go.”
“Wow. Thanks, Milo. That’s really nice of you.” She smiles and dumps an ungodly amount of sugar in her coffee.
“No big deal. It’s Felicity’s really, and she’s not here to drive it.” I can’t afford for her to think I’m going any further out of my way for her.
“First the room and now a car. I’m beginning to feel like I have my very own sugar daddy.” She laughs, and then I can see the cringe. She clearly recognizes that even though I’m the one who put myself in this situation, I’m less than comfortable with it. “Anyway, thanks. And you don’t have to worry. I’ll be out of your hair ASAP.”
I don’t respond since I’m liable to invite her to move in for good if I open my mouth. It’s becoming harder and harder to recognize myself. Since when has a pretty woman done such a number on me?
Right. Ask a stupid question…
When I get to work, I have a text waiting from Felicity.
Felicity: Forget the rest of high school. I’m going to college NOW. Just thought you should know.
I stash my helmet and work my thumbs across my phone screen.
Me: Then it’s a good thing I got a job. Glad you’re having a good time.
Felicity: Tell me you’re not working for Bran.
Me: I’m not working for Bran. I’m teaching intro diving in Carolina Beach.
Felicity: Cool.
I’m tempted to tell her not to go so overboard with excitement, but I manage not to.
Me: You need anything? Money? Clothes? A bodyguard?
Felicity: As tempting as that sounds, no. I’m good. Just checking in.
Me: Things are exactly the same here. You’re not missing anything.
There’s no way in hell I’m telling her about Jill staying with me.
Felicity: Please tell me the new fridge has something besides beer in it.
Me: Don’t you worry about me. I’m good. You sure you don’t need anything?
Felicity: Nope.
Me: Okay. I gotta get to work.
Felicity: Have fun.
My first lesson of the day is with a couple teenagers and their parents. They’re going on a cruise over the holidays and want to get certified in SCUBA before they go. I’ve inherited them halfway through their certification, so they’re almost ready for their first open-water dive. They’re model students, even the teens, and the session flies by without a hitch.
My second lesson, not so much. It’s a couple in for their first lesson, and the guy is clearly claustrophobic and too embarrassed to tell his girlfriend. They both pass the swim and treading tests just fine, giving each other shit and goofing around, but that all changes when we put the masks and regulators on. She’s clearing her mask and regulator like a pro from her first try while he keeps surfacing and complaining that there’s something wrong with his equipment. I try pulling him aside to talk out of earshot, but he’s not having it. When I finally swap him for my gear to prove it’s not the equipment, he inhales a lungful of water and taps out, coughing and sputtering into his towel while I finish the lesson with just the woman. I doubt I’ll see them back again.
I want to tell the guy that his girlfriend won’t give a shit if he can’t dive as long as he’s not an asshole about it, but it would be a waste of breath trying to get him to admit a weakness. We men will go to ridiculous lengths to hide our insecurities, even though we know everything comes out in the end anyway. I never said we were smart.
When Bran calls later in the day, I make a point not to pick up. His only reason for calling is to try coaxing me into a beer at Rayna’s work so he can drink, play poker on his phone, and gawk at her every chance he gets. It’s been the same thing since I moved back, and it has me wondering what is so damn captivating about a woman you live with that makes you unable to go eight hours without laying eyes on her? It’s fucked up if you ask me.
But I suppose my reason for not wanting to go involves a woman I live with too, so I probably shouldn’t judge.
Live with. That sounds way, way too complicated for my liking.
She’s just staying in my spare room for a few days, that’s all. The image of her bending over in her underwear surfaces in my mind, and I suppress a groan. I must admit, though, she sure did have my number with that fast one she pulled. I could hardly remember my own name, much less remember why it wasn’t a good idea to let her wander around my house unsupervised. There’s no stopping the smile pulling at my lips.