Page 20 of Tell Me Lies

“All right,” I utter. “Are you going to choose something to watch?” I wave toward my bowl. “My popcorn is nearly gone, and you just keep scrolling past everything.”

“I’ll make you more,” he tosses back. “Hey, before I put on a show and we space out on whatever trash I choose, can I ask you, when is your next book release?”

“Why?” I scowl, not able to stop myself.

“Whoa. Calm down, sparky.” He shakes his head. “I just wanted to know so I could give you the day off for it. I mean … that’s a huge deal.”

Relaxing, I instantly feel bad. “Sorry,” I breathe out. “It’s a sore subject. Writing hasn’t exactly been easy the past fewyears.” I sit a little taller. “But a few days ago, I wrote a few hundred words, and I’m really hoping that if I continue to write, I can have a spring release.”

“Are your books dirty?” His eyes narrow, a sneaky smirk on his lips.

“No,” I lie.

“They totally are.” He grins. “Where can one get these books?”

“They are all sold out. Everywhere,” I lie again. “Guess you’re out of luck.”

He gives me a playful once-over. “That was a test, Miss Maci. I already found your books. I also know they are dirty as hell. I’m telling ya, you need a hockey book.” He waves his hand at himself. “The ladies love them a puck boy.”

“Oh my God. I cannot believe you looked up my books!” I whine as my cheeks heat, to the point of damn near pain. “Okay, we’re done talking about this. Time to find something to watch.”

He tosses me the remote, and I begin searching through Netflix.

“Oh, and, Maci?” I can hear the amusement dripping from his voice.

“What?” I huff out, terrified of what he’s going to say next.

“You can totally use me as inspo, just FYI. I give my permission.”

I peek over, and he winks.

“I know; I’m pretty inspirational.”

The embarrassment I was just feeling slowly fades. Rolling my eyes, I bark out a laugh. “I’m not even going to respond to that. Now, be quiet. Let’s watchLove Island. You wanted trashy? You got it.”

He starts to say something, but I hold my hand up, silencing him.

“No more talk of my books, or I’m going to leave right now.”

I glance at him to see him pouting. Slowly, he turns his attention toward the screen, and thank the Lord, he leaves me alone.

He might not know it—and I’ll never admit it out loud—but he is already my inspiration. Because …hello …he’s Logan freaking Sterns.

The ache in my neck hits me instantly even though I haven’t even fully woken up yet. For a split second, I don’t have a fucking clue where I am. But I know I’m not in my bed, simply by how my body feels.

I glance down to find Maci snuggled on my chest as my body rests against the arm of the couch. The last thing I remember, we were on episode three of the trashiest, corniest show I’ve ever seen, calledLove Islandor some shit, where a bunch of single people try to find their soulmates, though I feel like there’s no fucking way it works. And then we must have fallen asleep.

I reach for my phone, tapping the screen to see it’s after two in the morning. We’ve been lying here for hours. Hours … together. Something about the way Maci feels with her head against my chest … I don’t know why, but I like it. It feels good to actually hold a woman in my arms.

It’s been years since I’ve slept near a female or held one this intimately. When I’m away from Amelia, sure, I’ll have a quick hookup. Or maybe let a chick suck on my cock if she begs for it.But after I blow my load, I’m out. Or I politely get her out of my room, depending on the situation.

If this were any other time, my skin would be crawling, and I’d want this woman away from me. But right now, I’m in no rush to get away from her. And that’s not good because it complicates the fuck out of the situation with her being Amelia’s nanny.

For a few minutes, I just hold her against me, listening to her soft breaths and letting her sweet coconut scent invade my brain. I wonder what’s holding her up on writing. And even though I was just ribbing her, I wonder if she has ever put any thought into writing about a hockey player. Or, hell, maybe she finds us repulsive—who knows? I know she has some books about baseball players and even a few about the Mafia. Yet no hockey.

Pfft … baseball over hockey players? She hasn’t lived yet.

Maybe spending time around me will change that.

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