Page 11 of Hard to Take

“Hey. I’m Miles.”

Three words. They affect me more than they should.

It’s his voice, the smoothness of it. It feels as if he’s stroking my skin.

Heat curls low in my stomach even before I can shove the thought down.

I resist the temptation to play with the cuffs of my sweater. I’m not a self-conscious teen. I’m a composed twenty-something woman in her own home.

And the last time we were alone, both of us were naked.

Waffles barks up at me from Miles’s side. I crouch and scratch him behind the ears. His soft fur calms my emotions as he leans into my hand with a little grunt.

“Smart,” I say.

“What’s that?”

“Bringing the dog.” Waffles snuffles up at me as if he knows we’re talking about him. “What are you doing here?”

Miles is already walking past me into the apartment. “You texted me.”

“Oh, honey. That’s the beauty of texts. You don’t need to respond face to face. You can do it right in the app.”

“Same with phone calls, Princess.” He beams, giving Midwestern-fucking-farmboy as he reminds me of the three voicemails I didn’t return.

It should be annoying. It’s oddly endearing.

I glance down the hall. No sign of my future roommate, so for now I let the door swing shut.

“I have a potential roommate coming any minute.”

“That’s what we need to talk about.” His eyes darken, and for a moment, I have the crazy feeling I’m not the only one who’s been replaying our night together.

“You’re not getting a roommate,” he says. “There are all kinds of crazy people that could show up at your door.”

“I see that. And you’re here to explain that to me in your capacity as…?” I look him up and down.

A beat passes. Two. “A friend.”

I remember his fingers digging into my legs. Those smoky blue eyes staring up at me from between my thighs, daring me not to melt under him.

“Well, the roommate thing is not up for negotiation, but I could use a hand.”

I bend down to gather Waffles up into my arms, the dog sighing happily as I turn and head farther into my apartment.

Miles trails me into the second bedroom and grabs a box.

“Nova told me about your grandmother,” I say, stroking the Frenchie behind the ears. “Is she all right?”

He shifts the heavy box without flinching. “She fell again. They called me Saturday night in Vail after you were already asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. When they said she was in the hospital, it was like I went numb. I came straight back.”

I stare at him for a minute before realizing he’s still holding the massive load.

The box must weigh fifty pounds, but he’s not winded at all.

“Um… Put it in the closet. Please,” I add, nodding to my room because my own hands are full.

Of course, he came back given that.

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