Page 26 of Teasing a King

Mya looks shocked. “Not even a housewarming party after you moved in?”

I shake my head. “Afraid not,” I say. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Mya dips her head in a nod, conceding the point. “Mine, either,” she says. “But still. Your family didn’t insist?” She gestures around at the house. “I mean, buying a house is a big deal. And you spent months remodeling it. Surely, you’d want to celebrate finishing it?”

I’m touched that she seems so concerned, but I shake my head. “Nah,” I say. “Besides, it’s not really finished yet. The backyard is a wreck.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “You’ll have that finished in no time,” she says.

I laugh. “Your faith in me is impressive. But I have a feeling it’s going to take a while. Especially with everything going on in my life these days.”

Mya’s smile falters. “I’m sorry about that,” she says. “I know you didn’t plan—”

“Stop,” I say, silencing her words. “Don’t finish that sentence.” She gives me a questioning look. “Mya, I meant what I said earlier. I’m happy you’re here. Just because we didn’t plan things this way doesn’t mean it can’t turn into something amazing. So, stop apologizing.”

After a moment, she nods. “You’re right,” she says. “It’s just hard for me. I’m so used to being on my own, to not asking for help even if I needed it. It’s going to take some getting used to. That’s all.”

“I think we’ll both need some time to adjust,” I say with a grin.

Mya smiles. “Well, we’ve got about 7 months,” she says, patting her stomach. Her smile doesn’t last long before turning into a yawn.

“Tired?” I ask.

“It’s been a long day,” Mya says ruefully. “I think I’m going to turn in early, if that’s okay.”

“You don’t need my permission,” I say with a smile. “I meant what I said before. I want this to feel like your home. You don’t need to feel like you need to hang out with me just because we’re both home. And you’ll have your privacy. I won’t ever intrude on your personal space.”

Mya smiles. “Well, that’s good to know,” she says. “I’m used to my privacy.” She hesitates before speaking again. “But it’s not a chore to hang out with you, Van. I happen to like hanging out with you.”

I ignore the way my pulse speeds up at that last comment. “I like hanging out with you, too,” I say with a smile that does nothing to indicate how much of an understatement that is. The truth is, I love being around Mya. I don’t want her to go to bed yet because I’m enjoying this time with her. But saying that would make things weird between us. And I don’t want to look like a creep. When she yawns for a second time, I decide to let her off the hook.

“I think I’m probably not far behind you,” I say, even though I’m not tired at all. “It’s bound to be a busy day at Mack’s tomorrow.”

Mya just nods as she turns for the stairs. “Goodnight,” she says.

I give a little wave. “Goodnight, Mya.”

I remain downstairs long enough to set the coffee maker for the morning and make sure all the doors are locked. Then I head upstairs, intending to take a quick shower before bed. When I reach the top of the stairs, I’m surprised to see Mya standing outside my bedroom door. She freezes with her hand in the air, poised to knock.

“Oh!” She’s clearly startled by my sudden presence in the hallway, but she recovers quickly, smiling at me. “Good. You’re not in bed yet.” Her cheeks redden. “I mean, I’m glad I didn’t disturb you,” she clarifies.

I smile. “Is something wrong?”

Mya shakes her head quickly. “Oh, no. Nothing is wrong. I just realized I never asked you where the towels are.” She points over her shoulder in the direction of the bathroom. “I wanted to wash up before bed. I feel a little grimy after all the unpacking.”

I feel like an idiot. Of course, she’d want to clean up after today. And I never showed her where the damned linens are kept.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “Is it obvious that I don’t have house guests very often?”

Mya waves away the apology. “Don’t be,” she says. “It’s totally understandable.”

I show her the linen cabinet, making me realize that I don’t have much in the way of spare linens. I rub the back of my neck, self-conscious.

“I think I need to do some shopping,” I say, feeling my face redden.

Mya grabs a towel from the pitifully small stack in the mostly empty linen closet.

“Stop worrying so much. I have plenty of towels in one of those boxes in my room,” she says with a grin. “We can assess the linen situation after I’m unpacked.”

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