Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Sliding out of bed, I bite my bottom lip when I register the sound of Winter’s voice coming from the other side of the door. With the way Miles’s place is set up, there is no way I’ll be able to get out of here without being noticed. The minute I open that door, Winter is going to see me and will likely have a million questions. And even if me being here is completely innocent, I still feel weird that I stayed the night… in her dad’s bed.
So lost in my internal freak-out, I panic when the door across the room starts to open, and I drop to the floor, using the bed to hide me from whoever is coming into the room.
“Emma?” Miles’s deep voice calls, and I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
“Why are you on the floor?” Winter’s sweet little voice asks, and I lift my head and find her standing at the foot of the bed, watching me with a very confused expression. Her dad standing behind her, on the other hand, looks like he’s attempting not to laugh.
“I… um… I lost an earring, and I was looking for it.” I fake searching around on the floor and press my lips together when I hear Miles make a sound like a chuckle mixed with a cough.
“Do you want me to help?” Winter comes over to join me on the floor. “I’m the best at finding things.”
“Oh.” I sit up on my knees and touch my ears, where both of my simple gold hoops are hanging. “Weird I thought I lost one, but I didn’t.”
“You’re so funny.” She crawls to where I am, then stands and presses the side of her body into mine, so she’s half sitting on my lap while I’m sitting with my ass on my calves. “Dad said you sleep like the dead, just like me.”
“He did?” I look up at Miles, who I can feel watching us. “I normally don’t.”
“You didn’t even twitch when I carried you to bed.”
He carried me to bed. Of course I should have known that since I have no memory of getting into his bed on my own. Still, I didn’t think about him physically carrying me.
“I must have been totally out of it.”
“You must have been,” he says quietly, watching me so intently that I have to fight not to squirm under his gaze.
“Are you hungry?” Winter asks, resting her hand on my cheek, and I take my eyes off Miles. “Dad is making pancakes, but they don’t have cocoa chips.”
“I wish I could stay, but I need to get home. I have a client this morning at nine,” I tell her, giving her waist a squeeze before gently removing her from my lap so I can stand up.
“Come eat, Win, and let’s give Em a few minutes.” He holds out his hand to her, then meets my gaze once more. “The bathroom is right through there.” He jerks his chin in the direction of an open door.
“Thanks,” I say quietly, watching the two of them leave the room before I head for the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I use the toilet tucked into its own space away from the glass-enclosed shower and standing tub. As I’m washing my hands, I take in my reflection, thankful the makeup I had on yesterday pretty much stayed in place. Still, I know my skin is going to hate me for leaving my makeup on overnight, and I’ll likely pay for it with a breakout in a few days.
When I’m done in the bathroom, I walk through the bedroom, absently registering how gorgeous Miles’s room is. The exposed brick taking up one wall, the other three plastered over with what looks like concrete. Neither of those two elements should go with modern but elegant dark furniture, but they do, and the thick rug on the floor under the bed ties the space together, adding a bit of warmth. It suits him—dark, edgy, and classy, with an undertone of warmth.
“Want some coffee?” Miles asks, his gaze finding mine as soon as I step out of his bedroom, and I glance at the clock on the wall in the living room.
“I would, but I really need to get home.” I walk to the door and put on the heels I wore yesterday, then go to the kitchen and kiss the side of Winter’s head, since she’s eating. “I’ll see you after school, okay?”
“Okay.” She tips her head back to look at me. “Can we get ice cream again today?”
“Not today.” I try not to smile when she pouts. “If we go get ice cream every day, it won’t feel special anymore, will it?”
“I guess not,” she gives in, and I smooth her hair back from her face. “Have a good day at school.”