Chapter 30 #2
Miles reaches out, gently taking her small hand in his. “I’ve got some stories that might help,” he says, giving her a reassuring smile. “But I need to shower first.”
Her smile starts small, a hint of hope creeping in. And I watch, heart swelling, because there’s something about the way he’s been with us—so patient, so caring—that makes everything feel a little brighter.
“Okay,” Riley says, glancing back and forth between us with that innocent curiosity only a child can have.
Before I lead Miles upstairs to grab some clothes, I remember the hot cocoa still bubbling on the stove.
“Oh wait, let me just put the hot chocolate to one side in case chubby bunny here decides to drink it all.”
“Hey!” Riley pokes me in the side, her pout exaggerated. “I’m not greedy or chubby,” she protests, though I can see the marshmallow remnants on her lips.
I pinch her nose gently. “I know you aren’t chubby, but sometimes you are greedy,” I tease, smiling down at her.
She giggles and turns to head toward the living room. “Continue watching the movie, sweetheart. I’ll be down in a minute!” I call after her, ensuring she knows I’m not far away.
“Okay!” comes her cheerful reply from downstairs.
I turn to Miles, still drenched and looking like he just stepped out of some magazine ad. His wet clothes cling to him in all the right places, and I catch myself feeling a little too aware of how good he looks.
“I’ll show you my room,” I say, a little more breathless than I mean to.
He nods, and we start heading up the stairs, passing the bathroom. My mind wanders for just a second before we reach my room, the door creaking open.
It’s cozy, the pastel yellow walls softening the space, my bed made up with fresh white sheets. A couple of pillows are scattered on top, and a few shoes are lying haphazardly around, a wash bin full of clothes in the corner.
I open my top dresser, but then my eyes widen in horror.
It’s bright pink and not easy to miss.
I feel the heat rush to my face. I can’t even think straight as I glance over at Miles, who’s already noticed it, that knowing grin spreading across his face.
I swallow hard. “I—uh…” I stutter, my voice barely a whisper.
Without thinking, I march over and shove it into the drawer with more force than necessary. My face is burning, but my hands are shaking slightly.
“You know, I didn’t expect that,” Miles says, his voice low and amused as he steps closer, the wetness of his clothes brushing against my back.
I feel my heart pick up speed as Miles steps closer, his presence all-consuming. The distance between us has never felt so…electric. I can feel the wetness of his shirt against my back, the heat of him inching closer, and it sends a shiver down my spine.
His grin is that mix of mischief and something else-something deeper, something that makes me feel exposed in the best way possible.
He lowers his voice, his words almost a purr. “What were you doing with that, Bambi?”
I swallow, my throat dry. My heart’s hammering like it wants to burst out of my chest. I want to laugh it off, to say something flippant, but my mouth betrays me.
I can’t find the words, not with the way his gaze holds mine, like he’s waiting for me to break or to confess something. Something deeper than just a silly toy.
I try to push it aside, but the heat crawling up my neck says it’s not going anywhere.
“I-I wasn’t expecting you to find that,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper. I can’t stop the flush creeping up my neck, the soft, embarrassing rush of vulnerability that follows.
Miles doesn’t move, doesn’t make a joke or lighten the mood. He just watches me, that smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth. But his eyes, those damn eyes, they’re softer now, like he’s reading me. Not in a way that makes me uncomfortable, but in a way that makes my insides twist.
“I didn’t think you’d want to explain it either,” he says, his voice low, thick with a mix of teasing and something I can’t quite place. “But you don’t have to.”
I blink, surprised by the tenderness in his words, the lack of judgment. It should have made me feel better. But it only makes the air heavier, more charged.
“Mommy, when are you coming back down?” Riley asks as she walks into my bedroom and jumps onto the bed.
I shut my dresser and lean against it, my pulse stuttering in my chest. It’s like a bucket of cold water splashed across my face, and I snap back to reality.
“Right, sorry, honey.” Shaking myself out of the moment, I move toward my dresser, my hands trembling slightly as I pull out a gray oversized T-shirt and a pair of oversized shorts—clothes that feel too small for the size of him but should hopefully fit compared to anything else I have.
Miles’s gaze is on me, still heavy, still simmering with that unspoken thing between us. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t make this harder. He just nods, his voice quieter now, softer. “Thanks.”
I hand him the clothes and a towel. His fingers brush mine, and that simple contact sends another jolt of heat straight to my chest. I don’t look up as I pass him a towel, trying to regain some control, but the hum of tension is still there, thick in the air.
“Go ahead, make yourself at home,” I say, ushering him toward the bathroom.
I pause for a brief second, giving him a small smile, before turning and taking Riley’s hand, leading her downstairs and back to the living room.