“Probably would have been a good idea.”
“I just, after Alan and everything, I didn’t really have an appetite.”
“I get it. We can get them to box that up for you. Maybe you’ll feel up to eating later.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she agrees, falling silent for a long moment before turning her gaze back up to mine. “Thank you for this, Miles. I feel like all I’ve done recently is thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“But I do. First the job, then stepping in with Alan, and now taking me to dinner to try to get my mind off of it. If I didn’t know any better, Miles Hollins, I’d say you’re a closet sweetheart.”
“I wouldn’t get your hope up,” I tell her on, smiling.
“Actions and words.” She ticks her finger at me.
“Give it time. My true colors eventually show through.” I try to be playful, but deep down I truly mean it. I always find a way to fuck things up.
“Guess we’ll see.” She shrugs.
“Guess we will,” I agree. “You about ready to get out of here?”
“Yes and no.” She chews on her bottom lip, the action drawing my gaze to her mouth.
“What does that mean?” I force my eyes back up, the action taking everything I have.
“It means yes, I’m ready to leave here. But no, because I need to sober up before I can go home.”
“Not necessary considering you’re crashing at my place tonight.”
“I am not staying with you,” she says, half panicked.
“Relax. I’m not taking you home to take advantage of you. I live a block from here, and you’re in no condition to drive. You can take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“No funny business?” she teases, instantly relaxing.
“You have my word.”
“Then fine. I’ll go home with you tonight.”
“Six words I never dreamed I’d hear you say,” I smirk.
Chapter Twelve
Harlow
“It’s too bright,” I grumble, struggling to pull the covers over my face to shield myself from the light suddenly shining into the room.
“Maybe that should be your indication to wake up.” Miles chuckles as the side of the bed dips. My eyes shoot open, but it takes a moment for my vision to clear before his face comes into view.
He looks so good. My stomach twists at the sight of him.
“Good morning.” His smile widens.
“Morning,” I grumble, keeping the blanket pulled up over half my face.
“I thought you might be hungry so I made some pancakes and sausage if you’re feeling up to it.”
The mere mention of food has my empty stomach letting out a loud growl.
“I’m starving,” I admit.
“Good.” Miles pats my hip before standing. “Your clothes are hanging in the bathroom, and I left a spare toothbrush in there for you to use. Come out when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I stretch, waiting until he leaves the room before shooting up in bed.
I remember everything that happened last night. I wasn’t nearly intoxicated enough not to, but it still feels almost shameful waking up in Miles’ bed. Then again I have to admit it also feels exciting at the same time.
I take a deep inhale, loving the way his scent seems to be engulfing me from every angle.
I look around Miles’ bedroom, from the long mahogany dresser to my left, to the massive walk-in closet on my right, to the two nightstands on either side of me, to the huge bed beneath me. While the furniture fits the room nicely, it still seems sparse. There are no pictures on the walls. No trinkets or decorations of any kind. It lacks anything personal connecting it to Miles other than the dog tags draped over one of the bedside lamps and a small framed picture of him and his mom when he was younger by the alarm clock.
My need for food pulls me out of bed quicker than I would typically move after just waking up. I tiptoe to the ensuite bathroom, tugging off the t-shirt Miles gave me to wear last night.
Slipping inside the bathroom, I lock the door before quickly changing back into the navy romper I wore yesterday. I make quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth before deciding to tie my long hair up in a messy knot.
I take a long look at myself in the mirror, trying to steady the drum of excitement coursing through me.
I shouldn’t be excited. Hell, I should be embarrassed that I drank too much to drive myself home and ended up sleeping at my boss’ place. And while I do feel a little embarrassed by everything that took place yesterday, the giddy butterflies I feel around Miles overshadows everything else.
I know I’m being foolish, thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about, hoping for something I shouldn’t be hoping for, but I can’t help it. The more time I spend with Miles, the more time I want. The more I learn about him, the more I want to know.
“Hey,” Miles says with a light rap to the door. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Coming,” I call back, pinching my pale cheeks to try to give them a little color before reentering the bedroom.
I lay the shirt Miles gave me to sleep in at the edge of the bed and take one last look around the room, deep down hoping it’s not the last time I step foot inside the space. It’s crazy and stupid and reckless of me to think this way, but sometimes you can’t help how someone makes you feel.
After years of feeling empty and alone with Alan, Miles brings a certain danger and excitement to my life that I’ve been desperate for. The way he looks at me sometimes makes my skin burn. Like his gaze alone has the power to bring every single nerve ending to life.
It’s unnerving and unsettling and yet I don’t ever want the feeling to end.
I’ve struggled for the last few days to admit to myself that what I have is a ‘crush’ on Miles. But after last night I’ve decided it’s useless to deny it. Not that I ever plan to admit it out loud, but admitting it to myself has made me feel better.
I’m aware that nothing can or will happen between us. For one, he probably has no interest in me. If he did last night would have been the perfect time for him to make his move and yet he was a complete gentleman. Other than kissing me on the forehead after tucking me into his bed, he didn’t touch me once.
Not to mention the fact that he’s my boss and my brother’s best friend. If something were to happen and then go south, it would have a ripple effect on the new life I’m trying to build. And after everything I’ve done to try to regain some sense of a life for myself, that’s the last thing I need.
Taking a deep breath in, I let it out slowly before turning toward the door. I stop mid-motion when I catch sight of Miles leaning against the door frame watching me.
“Crap.” I jump, my palm flattening against my chest. “You scared me. Why are you standing there like a creeper?”
“Just enjoying the view.” He smirks, pushing away from the door before turning.
“Whatever,” I force out, trying not to take it the way I really want to.
He’s just messing with you, Harlow, I tell myself before quickly walking after him.
Miles’ apartment is incredible. It’s in the heart of downtown, a newer building with a balcony facing the Ohio River. The whole place is much like his bedroom – modern furnishings but lacking any personal touches.
Miles slides into one of the stools at the breakfast bar before turning, patting the seat next to him when our eyes meet.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” I say, sliding onto the stool as I look down at the large plate in front of me stacked with four large pancakes and a few pieces of sausage.
“There are a lot of things about me you don’t know.” He winks, before quickly adding, “My mom taught me the basics. Pancakes, eggs, grilled cheese, and I can even make a mean boxed mac and cheese.” He chuckles.
“All the important things.” I pick up my fork, unable to fight the smile on my face.
After pouring a healthy amount of syrup over m
y pancakes, I cut into them, shoveling a big bite into my mouth seconds later. The instant the fluffy goodness hits my taste buds I moan.
“I take it you approve?” Miles turns his face toward me.
“So good,” I agree after swallowing. “You keep this up, and you might never get rid of me,” I warn, wagging my fork at him.
“Maybe that’s my master plan.” He gives me a cheeky smile that makes me laugh.
“I’m serious. You gave me a job, saved me from my ex, gave me a place to crash when I had too much to drink, and you cooked me breakfast the next morning. I could really get used to this.”
“Bet you wish you hadn’t hated me so much when we were younger? Being my friend does have its perks.”
“I’m starting to see that.” My words catch in my throat when Miles reaches over and runs the pad of his thumb along my lower lip.
Our gazes lock, and for a brief moment, I get the ludicrous thought that he might kiss me. The air pings around us and everything seems to slow down. One second, two seconds, three.
“Sorry, you had some syrup on your lip.” Miles breaks the connection, quickly turning back toward his plate.
“Thanks,” I force out, filled with both disappointment and relief.
“I texted Winston last night and told him you were here,” he says before taking a bite of his pancakes.
“Thank you. I didn’t even think about that,” I admit.
“Who could blame you? I’m sure after Alan showing up the way he did your mind was occupied by other things.”
“Yeah, that it was.” I blow out a breath, refraining from telling him that he was the other thing my mind was occupied by.
“You should take the day off.” He reaches for the glass of milk sitting in front of him and takes a long drink before turning his head in my direction.
“That’s okay. I’d rather work.”
“You sure you don’t want to go home and decompress? Work will be waiting for you tomorrow if you need some time.”
“If I go home I’m just going to obsess. I’d rather stay busy.”
“Okay.” He nods before turning back to his plate.
“I do need to call my lawyer though. She’s going to have a field day when she hears he showed up here. She’s been trying to convince me to push for half of the house and alimony, but I don’t want to. I don’t want anything from him except for his signature.”
“So you’re not getting anything out of this divorce?” Miles asks, swiveling his stool in my direction.
“Nope. I don’t want it either. My lawyer thinks I’m crazy. And based on how you’re looking at me you think I’m crazy too.”
“Not crazy. It’s just rare.”
“What is?”
“For someone in your situation to not want to get everything you can out of him.”
“I’m not a vengeful person.”
“I don’t think it’s vengeful to take what you deserve for being married to him for so long, but at the same time, I get where you’re coming from. Sometimes it’s easier to wash your hands of someone completely and move on.”
“Exactly.”
“So how long until this whole thing is final?” he asks, swiveling back toward the bar.
“Hard to say.” I shrug, shoveling another large bite of pancake into my mouth. “Alan has been dragging his feet. Even though I’m asking for nothing, he still won’t sign the papers. My lawyer is pressing him, though. Threatening to take him to court where he’ll be forced to have his dirty laundry aired. He’ll never let it get that far. He holds his reputation higher than anything else. Probably why he’s refusing to sign.”
“So you think he wants you back because...”
“He’s worried about what other people will think,” I finish his sentence. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“Wow. He’s a real fucking piece of work.” Miles shakes his head.
“You have no idea,” I murmur under my breath but loud enough that Miles hears me.
“How did you put up with him for so long?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I got comfortable, complacent, and it was easier to accept what was, than fight for what could be. I knew I wasn’t happy, but like I said last night, I don’t think I realized just how unhappy I was until it was over.”
“So how long do you expect him to drag this out for?”
“As long as possible. My attorney is only giving him two more weeks and then we’ll take it to court. Unfortunately, if it does go that far, it could be months. But if he signs it will be over in just a few short weeks.” I take a drink of milk before wiping my mouth with the napkin Miles set next to my plate. “Bet your glad you’ve never been dumb enough to marry someone,” I tease.
“I don’t think it’s dumb to marry someone. At least not if you really love them. But it’s definitely not for me,” he quickly adds.
“No?” I question, keeping my focus on my plate.
“I would never be selfish enough to bring someone into this fucking mess I call a life.”
“I don’t know what mess you’re talking about, but you seem to have your stuff together. You own a tattoo shop, which clearly makes you good money, you have an awesome apartment. You’re kind and funny, and very attractive. I think you have a lot to offer someone.”
“Did I hear that right? Did Harlow Cabell just call me attractive?” he teases, nudging my shoulder with his.
“Oh shut up. You know you’re hot.” I roll my eyes, shoving another bite of pancake in my mouth. “All I’m saying.” I swallow my food before continuing, “Is that you have the tools to make someone very happy.”
“I’m glad you think so. But unfortunately, I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
“And why do you think that?” I flip my gaze to him to find his eyes locked on me.
“Because things aren’t always as they seem. You, Harlow, should understand that better than most considering what you’re dealing with right now.”
“Is that your way of saying you don’t let the world see the real you?”
“Something like that.” He gives me a sad smile before standing. Crossing around the counter, he drops his half-full plate in the sink, keeping his back to me while he rinses the food off into the garbage disposal. “Finish up, and I’ll walk over to the shop with you to get your car.” He turns and exits the kitchen.
“You don’t have to do that. I can walk myself,” I call after him as he disappears into the bedroom.
“Not a chance in hell. I’m walking you,” he tells me, walking into the living room seconds later with his boots in his hand.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” I tease, trying to lighten the heavy mood that seems to have settled over him.
“Only every day for my entire life.” He looks up at me and grins. “Now finish your damn pancakes.”
“Yes, sir,” I say dramatically, rolling my eyes as I turn back to my plate and do exactly as he says. Not that it’s a difficult task considering they are probably some of the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted.
Chapter Thirteen
Miles
“What the hell is up with you today?” I look up to find Delia standing in the doorway of the private tattoo room I’ve spent most of the day in. I’ve been working on a back piece for the last four hours and am finally getting a chance to clean up and take a much-needed break.
“Huh?” I question, not really sure what she means.
“Don’t huh me.” She walks straight into the room and flops down in the chair in the center of the space. “You’ve barely said two words to anyone today.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been stuck in here since four.”
“Yeah, but I can always tell when something is off with you, and something is definitely off.”
“Nothing is off. I just had a long night.”
“Is that code for you spent the night fucking some random bimbo you picked up at a bar and didn’t get any sleep?”
<
br /> “Fuck you,” I spit playfully.
“Nah, if you were getting a piece you’d be in a better mood,” she teases.
“I’m in a fine mood,” I argue.
“If you say so, boss man.” She rolls her eyes.
“Is there a reason you’re in here busting my balls?” I gesture for her to get up so I can sanitize the chair.
“There is actually. I thought you’d like to know that your girl is out there discussing ink options with Tubbs.” She hops up from the chair.
“My girl?” I give her a confused look.
“Harlow.”
“Not my girl.” I shake my head, extending the spray bottle and proceeding to thoroughly sanitize the entire surface of the chair.
“Okay.” She gives me a look that doesn’t quite sit well with me.
“And what do you mean she’s discussing ink options with Tubbs?”
“Apparently, she’s decided to get a tattoo and Tubbs volunteered to be the one to do it for her. He even offered to do it for free. We both know what that means. He’s hoping his generosity will land him a place in the new girl’s pants.”
“That won’t fucking happen,” I say confidently.
“Perhaps not, but he’s sure as shit giving it his all.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I tap my foot on the ground impatiently.
“Just thought you’d like a heads up. Figured if anyone were gonna ink her for the first time you’d want it to be you.”
“And why the fuck would you think that?” I clip, trying to make it clear that whatever she thinks is going on with Harlow and me is inaccurate. Even if my gut instinct is to run out there and stake some kind of claim, I’d never admit that to Delia.
“Um, because she’s Winston’s sister. Remember, your best friend, Winston?”
“And?”
“And aren’t you supposed to be looking out for her? Think maybe that includes not letting her get a tattoo from a guy who’s only doing it to try to get into her pants.”
“Fuck,” I grind out, rubbing the back of my neck.
The truth is she’s right. If anyone is going to give Harlow a tattoo in this shop, it’s going to be me. I justify this by agreeing with Delia. I am supposed to be watching out for Harlow. But in reality, it’s because I can’t stand the thought of anyone but me permanently inking her body. One, because I don’t trust anyone else to do it to my standard, and two, because at this point I’ll use any excuse I can to be able to touch her.
All That We Are Page 9
