Read My Mind

by Natasha Preston

  “You can tick it off your list of places to visit.”

  “It was never on it but I’m adding it later. It’ll be my first tick.”

  “You actually have a list? You have got to let me see it.”

  Shaking her head, she looks down at the menu. “Not happening.”

  “I’ll get it out of you.”

  “You will literally have to kill me first. It’s like my diary.”

  “I thought your manuscript was like your diary. You let me see that.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’m quickly going off you.”

  “Can I ask when you were on me?”

  Her teeth snap together, and she lowers the menu. “Are you flirting with me, Reid Walker?”

  I laugh. “Label it what you want, I still need to know.”

  “You need to know? Okay, fine.” She puts the menu down like this is about to get serious. “You’re gorgeous, obviously. You love books, have the best job, own have your own house and car. Anyone would be attracted to that.”

  I’ll take that. “Ah, so you’re just falling in line with everyone else.”

  That stuck the nerve I was going for. Her eyes twitch. “How dare you.”

  Laughing, I lean back in my seat. “What are you having to eat?”

  “The buttermilk chicken burger sounds so good. You’re going for steak?”

  “Yeah. Wine?”

  “It’s my first day. I’m having a coke.”

  “Wow, you really are taking this adult thing seriously.”

  She performs a seated half-bow. “Why, thank you. Do we go up to order?”

  “Yeah, I got it. You should text your mum. She’ll be dying to know how you’re getting on.”

  “You heard her this morning?”

  “I was just getting in my car when she was leaving. I heard her shouting back inside to you about turning up at the office if she doesn’t hear from you.”

  Mila’s eyes widen. “She would as well.”

  “Text her. I’ll be right back.”

  “You wouldn’t be if we were in a horror movie,” she mutters as I walk to the bar.

  We may not be naked but this is definitely the best lunch hour I’ve ever had.

  Twenty-One

  Mila

  The food is to die for. I finish my burger and feel my waistband protest against another chip. I eat it anyway because that’s the level of self-control I have today.

  “Reid, that was amazing. Best ever.”

  He smirks. “And I didn’t even break a sweat.”

  “Wow, is it always hot and sweaty with you?”

  His eyes darken, and I squirm in my seat. “Mila, we have a long afternoon ahead of us.”

  I swallow my arousal, though it does little to calm my racing pulse.

  Sex with Reid.

  Jesus. Sex with Reid.

  Now, over lunch, I’m seeing images of a sweaty Reid on top of me.

  “Do you think you’ll stay at Wilson Press?” I ask.

  “I have no plans to move on. The company is growing quickly, and I like being a part of that.”

  “It’s the best publisher ever.”

  He smirks. “Mel can’t hear you.”

  “I wasn’t sucking up. I just love it. So, you like being a part of building something rather than just joining somewhere more established?”

  “Definitely. I don’t know, my mum says I have to fix things, and although Wilson isn’t broken, there is a lot more growth yet to happen.”

  “I’m a fixer, too. I always have been. If someone I love has a problem, I can’t settle until I’ve solved it.” I shrug. “Which isn’t always helpful during those times when people need to deal with their own shit.”

  “Do you know why you do that?”

  “I saw a therapist in school. It all started when Hugo was in an accident. It wasn’t a bad one, he was fine, but it shook me up pretty badly. He only had whiplash, but I still remember bringing him different pillows and fluffing them up to try and get the right support for his neck.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight. I saw the therapist all through primary school, though it wasn’t called therapy. I don’t think helping people is a bad thing, anyway, so I can’t be too pissed that it stayed with me.”

  He nods. “So long as it doesn’t take too much out of you.”

  “Wow, you sound like the therapist. You have to have it to give it.”

  “It’s true, Mila.”

  “Yeah, I know. We should leave, right?”

  “It’s time.”

  I stand as he drops notes onto the table. “What are you doing, Reid?”

  “Oh, if you don’t pay, they call the cops.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “If we could not have the who’s paying argument, that would be great. This is your first day, and I want to buy you lunch.”

  My heart leaps. He’s so sweet.

  “Okay. Thank you for lunch.”

  “Thank you for not being difficult.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He smirks. “So are you.”

  I wonder if he’s ever had sex in his car.

  Shut up!

  We say a final thank you to the server and go back to his car. “We should come back again.”

  He looks over. “We will.”

  “What are you doing this afternoon?”

  “I have a call with an author after he’s sent his latest proposal. It’ll hopefully be in my inbox now.”

  I love his job. I can’t wait to get back and dive straight into proofreading. I’m so enjoying it. Not just the story but picking up on any last mistakes. I’ve found one grammar error and a couple things that I feel could use some clarity for the reader.

  “Are you leaning more towards editing than writing now?” he asks, resting his forearms on the roof of his car.

  “No, I don’t think so. I still love to write—to create a new world myself—but I’m really enjoying this, and I’ve loved helping you. Maybe I’ll write and still pester you to read first drafts.”

  “Ah, the best of both worlds.”

  We get into his immaculate car, and he drives us back to the office. We’re silent and stuffed, but there is no awkwardness I need to fill with words. I can be in his company and say nothing at all. Shame that doesn’t happen when I need it to the most.

  I listen to the hum of the engine. The midday sun shines through the windscreen, making it appear warmer than it is. But it’s a beautiful day, and I can’t help smiling.

  “Have you ever wanted to write? I know that you don’t, but does it not appeal at all?” I ask as we get close to the office again. Surely reading all day would give him so much inspiration.

  “No, I’m happy to shape the novels that are already there.”

  “You like to fix not create.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “All right. Did you have to write at uni, though?”

  “Yes,” he replies slowly, his eyes sliding to me as if he knows my next question.

  “Can I, please?”

  “No way, you’re not reading them. I don’t even think I’ve kept them.”

  “Where did you study? I’ll call them.”

  We pull into the car park, and he turns off the engine. “Absolutely not. Come on, or we’ll be late. It’s almost one.”

  I unbuckle the seatbelt so fast, it almost whacks the door, and I get out.

  Must not get fired.

  “Ah, you’re back. I was half worried that Reid would take you home to work with him,” Mel teases, winking at Reid when we walk back inside.

  “That’s the evenings. He’s very patient. I bet he wants to tell me to get lost,” I say as we part ways.

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “He told me you’ve had some valuable input in Leonard’s book. I agree with him.”

  I beam at the compliment. I’m totally not getting fired… not today. “Thanks.”

  “Are you ready to get back to it?”
>
  “Absolutely.” I wiggle the mouse, and the monitor pops back to life, gifting me a whole lot of swoony words to lose myself in. I already want Ava and Matt to be together.

  But too often, my eyes move above the monitor and seek Reid.

  Twenty-Two

  Reid

  I pull up after an hour in the gym, my hair still damp, to see Mila sitting on my front step. It’s almost seven p.m. after her fourth day at work. It seemed a little obsessive to work from the office on the days I’m usually at home, so I haven’t seen much of her today.

  “You don’t have a key under your mat,” she says when I get out.

  “Of course not. That’s asking to be robbed.”

  She stands up. “I’m bored.”

  “What am I, a last resort?”

  “I haven’t even called the girls yet.”

  “How long have you been out here?”

  “I counted to three-thousand six hundred, and then came over.”

  Chuckling, I shut my door and throw my bag over my shoulder before I walk towards her. “You counted for one hour, waiting for me to get home?”

  “You always go to the gym for an hour, you little creature of habit.”

  “Any longer than that and I want to shoot myself. Jason is evil.” I let us in. “I assume you want coffee and books?”

  “Marry me, Reid.”

  “Sorry, I’m saving myself for someone without an obsessive personality.”

  “She sounds boring.”

  Mila follows me through to the kitchen. I put my bag on the floor and fill the coffee machine with water. She sits on a stool and rests her elbows on the worktop, chin propped on her hands.

  “Why are you so bored?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. Living at home is weird now.”

  “How so?”

  “Beats me. Nothing has changed. I still love spending time with my parents. It’s just… different.”

  “You’re ready to fly the nest, little birdy.”

  She scrunches her nose up. “Ew, is that it?”

  “Every day is a learning curve for you, isn’t it?”

  “Since I ended things with Liam for good, yeah, apparently.”

  “It’s a good thing.”

  “I know. God, I’m tired. Working full-time leaves very little time for fun.”

  I raise a brow. “You just sat on my doorstep because you’re so bored. What fun is working preventing?”

  “You sound very judgemental right now, Walker.”

  I make our lattes and carry them through to the living room, smiling when I hear her hop down from the stool to follow me.

  “Are we drinking somewhere else or are you stealing my latte?”

  “I’ve been working all day, done an hour at the gym, and now I want to relax.”

  “We’re going to watch TV, aren’t we?”

  I put our drinks down. “I’m going to have a quick coffee, shower, and watch TV. You can do whatever you like.”

  “Can I root through your drawers?”

  “You can do what you like within reason.” Why did I not see that coming?

  She sits beside me on the sofa and tucks her feet underneath her. “I’ll behave.”

  I hope not.

  “What are you going to watch?”

  I shrug. “I’ve no idea.”

  “Random shit on Netflix? A cold case show? I love those!”

  “Murder cases?”

  “Uh-huh. I’ve only watched a couple. I love murder. Well, not like love it, but it’s fascinating, right?”

  “Have you watched Killer Inside?”

  “Yeah. They’re fucking psychos.”

  I nod. “All right, I’m showering first. I assume you’re a binge watcher?”

  “You assume right. Be quick; I’ll drink your latte, too, if you’re not back before I finish mine.”

  I race upstairs to the bathroom. Half so that Mila won’t drink my latte, and half because I don’t want to waste the time I have with her. At least I’m finally back in the office tomorrow.

  I shower, scrub a towel over my body, and change into joggers and a T-shirt. When I get back downstairs, she’s still drinking her own coffee.

  She looks up, her eyes raking over my body in a way that makes my dick stir.

  “That was fast.”

  “There was talk of theft,” I reply, sitting down and picking up my mug.

  “If someone tells you they’re going to take something from you and you don’t prevent it, who’s in the wrong?”

  “The thief, Mila. Still the thief.”

  She shrugs. “It’s basically permission.”

  “Press play,” I mutter, shaking my head at how utterly ridiculous she is.

  “I quite like it when you’re bossy.”

  My chest expands, and I glance sideways.

  She isn’t looking at me. She’s watching the screen so intently, it’s like she’s taking mental notes.

  “Should I be concerned that you’re so interested in this?”

  “Sleep with one eye open.”

  “I’ll just lock the door. At least I know now that you can’t pick a lock.” I bring the mug to my mouth and take a sip.

  She side-eyes me, scowling. “Is that a challenge?”

  I put the mug back on the coffee table. “Why would I challenge you to break into my house?”

  “Maybe that’s one of your kinks, to find a woman sneaking around your home late at night.”

  “Isn’t that your kink?”

  She purses her lips, the scowl deepening. “I don’t think we need to discuss why I’m weird.”

  “Wait, you think it’s weird?”

  “To want someone to sneak into my room at night and do me? Kinda.”

  I slump back against the sofa. “To do you. I’m assuming you don’t want just any guy off the street to do that to you.”

  “Correct.”

  “Then why is it weird?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Liam was never adventurous, and it made me feel like wanting sex outdoors or trying new things wasn’t normal.”

  “The only person who gets to decide what’s normal for you is you, okay?”

  “Have you ever snuck into a woman’s house at night?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Would you?”

  “Are you asking, Mila?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean, dickhead.”

  “Yes, I would. Denying yourself something you want will never make you happy. You need to be with someone who will explore, who will take you to the edge, and jump right off with you.”

  She bites her bottom lip, her frown deepening as she considers my words.

  Her eyes lock on mine and her chest rises.

  Nothing but lust is pumping through my veins.

  I want to move closer and claim her mouth. I want to kiss her senseless, slide my hand into that hair, pull her onto my lap, and grind her against my erection.

  She’s going to taste so good.

  Her eyelids fall heavily. The frown disappears, and her mouth parts.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, breaking the spell.

  Her eyes bulge. “For sex?”

  Throwing my head back, I laugh. “Fucking hell, I’m talking about dinner.”

  “Oh my God!” She whacks my stomach with the back of her hand. “Stop it! You made that sound really dirty. Reid, for fuck’s sake, stop laughing!”

  I brush my hands over my face. “I’m sorry.”

  “You are not sorry.”

  I glance her way. “So, are you hungry?”

  “Yes… twat.”

  “Chicken tacos?”

  “I love tacos. Can I help you cook again?”

  I stand. “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m not that bad in the kitchen. I made a salad.”

  I pick up my mug and take it through to the kitchen. Mila follows, and Netflix is forgotten. “I never said you were bad.”

  “Why are you so preci
ous about it? You let me in your office, at your desk.”

  “I draw the line at the kitchen.”

  “What’s your damage?” Mila perches on the stool, waiting for me to change my mind.

  “The Walkers don’t share kitchens.”

  “Ah, it’s your parents’ damage. I get it.”

  “Wine?”

  She sits back on the stool. “Now you’re talkin’. Can I pour it or is that not allowed either?”

  “I’m going to let you get it… this once.”

  “I feel so privileged.”

  Mila moves past me to get two wine glasses from the cupboard. She gets the white from the fridge and pours, while I slice chicken.

  “Here you go, dear,” she teases, placing a glass in front of me.

  I look over my shoulder and grin. “Are we an old married couple?”

  “We look like it. It’s nice to do something like this without feeling like I’m trapped and trapping someone else. All that’s missing is that jumping off the edge sex.”

  “Dinner can wait if you want to do that now?”

  She laughs, playfully slapping my arm on her way back to her stool.

  Control yourself. I’m trying not to be a rebound here.

  I almost slice into my finger when Mila sighs deeply as she watches me. It sounds like longing and makes me burn with need.

  What is she thinking right now?

  Same as me? That we should ditch dinner and feed the other hunger inside us both?

  I look over to see her sipping her wine, eyes fixed on mine like she was waiting for me to glance her way.

  “I’m starving here,” she teases.

  Yeah. Me, too.

  Twenty-Three

  Reid

  I’m woken by a pain in my neck. Groaning, I tilt my head from side to side. I’m on the sofa.

  Oh shit.

  What time is it?

  I tap my phone. It’s just after seven a.m.

  Something moves beside me.

  Mila is curled up at the other end of the sofa, her legs tucked in and her hair fanned around out around her. We must have fallen asleep watching Netflix. The screen is giving me that judgemental ‘Are you still watching?’ message.

  “Mila,” I say, running my fingertips up her bare arm. It’s Friday morning. We’re due at work in an hour, and I’m finally in the office with her again. She’s mine today and all next week.