Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
If he acted like this all the time, I think I’d be doomed. It’s too sweet, the way he plays with them.
We reach the bottom floor, and he waves me out first. I push the stroller into an underground garage. There’s a few dozen cars parked here, but he passes them all, walks right toward a separate garage, partitioned off from the rest with a locked door. He opens it, and I swallow a gasp as we step inside.
There’s about ten cars in here, all sparkling clean. They range from a few vintage models – iconic cars like a Thunderbird that even I recognize, and I know nothing about cars.
But he passes those and walks straight to a brand new BMW. It looks like it hasn’t been driven at all yet; it’s cherry red, with a roll-down top, and a surprisingly roomy set of seats.
“This will probably work best,” he’s saying, tapping the hood before he strides past the car to a storage locker on the far side of the room.
“Work best for what?” I ask. Then he opens the locker, and my mouth actually does drop open.
He pulls out not just one, but two car seats – rear-facing, designed for children the twins’ age, and tucks one under each arm, carrying them back toward the car.
“Seriously,” I say, almost laughing now. “The bus seems easier at this point.”
“Once we have this set up, it won’t be any inconvenience at all,” he points out. He fastens one car seat into the back, and I give up and cross the garage to join and help him buckle in the other.
“But you’ll have to take these in and out all the time. What a pain.”
He catches my eye. “No I won’t. This car will be yours.” He pats the seats again, and my eyes must pop out of my head like a cartoon’s.
“Cassius, I cannot accept a car from you.”
“It’s a loan. As for tonight, you can drive home and fetch what you need – it should all fit in the trunk, this one has a surprisingly roomy trunk. Just come back this evening and we’ll get you settled into the spare room.”
“I can’t move in with you,” I reply instinctively.
“Why not?” He blinks, then frowns a little. The coldness from earlier is gone; he’s warm and open again, his expression concerned. “Oh, do you have a partner? My mistake –”
I’m shaking my head hard, interrupting him. “No, of course not.” I bite my tongue – I almost referenced our moment in the kitchen earlier. But he must be avoiding talking about it for a reason – he probably doesn’t want to think about it just now. So fine. I shake my head again. “Nothing like that, I just… I have an apartment, I live there already –”
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“No!” I exclaim, then laugh a little. I can’t help it. “That’s not the point, Cassius.”
“What is the point? It seems simple enough for you to stay here. I have the spare room. The twins are all right in that crib, yes? Or should I buy a second one.”
“They’re fine.” I let out a huge sigh. “It’s just… Why are you doing all this for me?”
“I want to,” he replies simply.
We stare at one another for a long moment, over the roof of the car. The tension we felt earlier in the kitchen is back again, palpable. His eyes dilate, and I’m sure my face is flushed, what with how much heat is flooding to it right now.
I swallow hard, to try and wake myself up. “Are you looking for a live-in assistant?” I finally ask. “You didn’t mention that in the ad…”
He seems to shake himself, too. “It’s the only way to make sure you can get enough work done to justify hiring you.”
He sets the keys on the hood of the car and walks out of the garage. I stare after him, my mouth wide open once more. I feel like I keep doing that around him, but I can’t help it. He confuses the shit out of me.
What now? He’s hot and cold, warm and frigid. I can’t keep track of these mood swings, much less figure out what on earth I’ve done to cause them.
Worse, he didn’t give me a chance to decline this invitation.
I can’t lie, the thought of staying with him another night, in this gorgeous, cozy apartment, with my twins close by, and a huge stocked kitchen full of food just outside, is tempting.
When you factor in the ridiculously sexy man just down the hall, sleeping in his own bed, probably naked, his muscular body twined in the sheets, his handsome face relaxed…
Yeah, okay, I really do want to stay here. Especially if it means another moment like we had in the kitchen. Or finding out what would happen if we kissed and the twins didn’t start to cry…