“Nothing is growing mould in there, so it’s clean.”
He snorts. “Don’t ever work as a cleaner.”
“You’re so funny.”
His smile widens.
“You work for Wilson Press, right?”
He does a double take, looking at me and the road. It’s adorable.
“Wait. Am I not supposed to know that? You should hide your profession better if you want it to be a secret, Clark Kent. Manuscripts everywhere; some with the publishing house name on. You even take them to the pub.”
“It’s not a secret. I just didn’t think you were that observant.”
“Should I be offended?”
“I hope not.”
This guy might be ‘bite your tongue off’ gorgeous, but he’s also confusing as hell. I can’t figure him out. “All right,” I reply. I guess I won’t be offended, then.
I watch him as he drives. Reid Walker is a beautiful man. He looks like one of those models you’re positive isn’t real with cheekbones you could ski down, and dark, almond-shaped, come to bed eyes, as well as lips you want to eat.
He drives at the top end of the speed limit, but like everything else in his life, he’s perfectly in control. I have never seen him operate on emotion before. He’s always seemed so… well, perfect. I would love to hear him screaming expletives, kicking something, or generally making a mistake.
His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.
“You okay?” I ask.
Ooh, am I going to see him do something now? Though, I would prefer it if he didn’t flip out in a moving vehicle.
“I’m fine. Do you have class today?”
“I have a full afternoon, yeah.”
“How will you get there?”
“I’ll fly.” His dark eyes cut to me. “I’ll take the bus, Reid!”
Laughter isn’t what I expected. I like his laugh. It’s husky, sexy, and sounds like he’s just woken up. Or even better, just come.
“And why is that funny?” I ask.
“You don’t seem like the kind of girl to get on public transport.”
What the hell is his opinion of me? Do I come across as a spoiled brat? I choose to live at home, but my parents don’t spoil me… much. That doesn’t make me an ungrateful cow.
“I don’t know what that means,” I tell him.
“Never mind.”
We’ll sidestep that one. “Tell me about your job. I prefer it when we’re not talking about me.”
“I’m an editor.”
“Yeah, I know that. It’s so cool. I’d love to read all day and tell people what sucks. What’s the best part, though?”
“Seeing one of my author’s books on the shelf.”
My heart skips a beat. I would give anything for that. “Not telling authors they suck, then?”
Laughing, he expertly swerves the car around a corner. “I never use those exact words.”
“Ah, right. Don’t piss on their fireworks. What do you say?” I hold up my hand as he opens his mouth. “No, wait, let me guess. You tell them it has promise but needs some work.”
“Something like that.”
I place my hands back on the dash. This time I’m not admiring it, I’m trying not to die as we fly around a corner. “Where’s the fire, dude? We’re not fleeing a zombie apocalypse, and if we were, we would be heading into the forest.”
“Nervous passenger?”
“Death sucks.”
He eases off the accelerator, though I’m confident he was in control. “Yes, it does.”
“Will you let me read a manuscript? Or maybe all of them? Yes, not just one manuscript, I definitely want everything.”
Seconds of silence stretches into minutes. “I suppose. You can’t share them with anyone. In fact, you can’t take them out of my house.”
“Is that your way of getting me over the threshold so you can chain me up in a room? I don’t much care for being tied up.” My heart makes a traitorous leap at the thought. Down girl. He’s not ours. I clear my head of anything that shouldn’t be there. “How big is your house, anyway? Your parents moved, right? Why did you stay in a house too large for you?”
“And breathe.”
I scowl.
“Sorry.” He smiles. “No, I won’t chain you up. Not unless you ask me nicely.”
Well, the image of Reid tying me to his bed is back, and I don’t think it’s going anywhere this time. My gaze falls to his mouth, and then lower to his chest.
He’s the strong, silent book type with a face that melts underwear. Too good to be true. He must be a serial killer.
“The house has three bedrooms. Yes, they moved back to our hometown. No, I didn’t want to leave.”
“How come? No offence or anything, but I’ve never seen you with anyone. You’re not very people-y.”
“Do you spy on me often?”
“Not as a rule. You live opposite me, and I’m not that unobservant.”
“I have friends, Mila.”
“I’m not suggesting that you’re a hermit. You just don’t seem… happy.”
He frowns, staring at the road. I can see my words playing on repeat in his head. Have I hit a nerve?
“What do I know, though? I smile all the time but I still feel like there’s something missing.”
I clamp my mouth closed.
Word vomit, Mila. Shut up.
“What’s missing?” he asks so quietly, I almost miss it over the hum of the engine.
“I don’t know. I have the perfect family, I love my course, I sort of know what I want to do when I’ve finished, and I have a guy who is nice.” I clear my throat. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I’m ungrateful.”
“That isn’t it.”
“Oh, you know what it is, do you? Mind sharing your thoughts with me? Because I’ve been in my head for twenty-one years now and I still have no clue.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not saying I have all the answers, but I know there’s nothing wrong with you.”
How can I have the most amazing childhood, the best family and friends, and still not feel right? I have fun, I laugh, and I’m genuinely loving life most of the time. There’s this little voice in the back of my head that keeps saying, ‘You want more’. Like I’m Oliver fucking Twist.
“I’ve thought about seeing a therapist to get my head checked.” I lower my eyes. Why am I telling him this? The man has some sort of powers that makes you spill things you don’t want people to know.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, Mila, if you think it will help you figure out whatever you feel is missing. Tell me, though… you said Liam is nice.”
“Nice is a good thing. Come on, you know words.”
“I do, and you used words like love and perfect to describe your family and uni.”
Damn it, he’s got me there. “You think Liam is wrong for me, too?”
“That’s for you to decide. It was just an observation.”
I slump back in the seat and fold my arms.
“You said too. Do other people think he’s wrong for you?” he asks.