Page 8 of Valentine's Miracle

She jumps, clearly startled and frightened at the subtle accusation that I can’t do my job just because we have a history.

“Right,” she says, the strained smile on her face changed to the same beautiful smile that I have loved. “Do you want anything to drink? I have soda, juice, and milk, but water is okay too—”

“I’m not your friend.”

That comes out wrong, and involuntary guilt swallows me whole when her face flashes pure hurt before it’s masked by the same smile. She’s good at this, she’s always been good at hiding her feelings, and I hate that about her too.

I wanted to say that I wasn’t here to be her friend, but it came out wrong. Everything about this is wrong, so one little mistake isn’t going to make this any worse.

“Okay,” she agrees, light fading from her eyes while her smile grows wider.

It’s the worst. I’m the worst.

This is going to be a long week.

Chapter Three

Victoria

“Get up now.”

I have never been woken up so violently.

My thick cover got ripped off my body in one rough tug and the sweet dream that I was having escaped with the warmth. However, nothing beats the voice of impatient Silas when he demands that I come out of the covers.

Thank goodness I have more than one blanket. It’s a habit that I have always had because I get extremely cold during the night no matter if it’s summer or the brittle winter.

Winter in this city is basically just really cold autumn to some states, but to the locals, it’s hell freezing over, and everyone is racing to break open their closets to get the warmest winter coats.

Another warning comes when the curtains in my bedroom part rather aggressively that the bright sunlight swallows the darkness. I groan, rolling over to the side and pressing my face to my pillow.

“Now,” he repeats, rudely letting his tone bounce in my head.

I roll on my back, a yawn forcing my morning breath into my nose as I blink up at the ceiling. Seeing Silas in his natural state of gruffness and angry eyebrows, it beats my alarm clock ringtone in terms of heart-attack inducing moments.

“Okay, okay,” I say as I admit defeat.

I pull myself up, and he glares at me again. Silas stays where he is at the end of my bed with those burly arms crossed over his chest. The expectancy in his face is clear as he waits with another snarl on his lips.

I look over to my nightstand to find my clock showing an hour that is too early for any normal human being to be up at, and the bottle of relief medication for stomach is crushed.

I don’t remember taking my sleeping frustration on the poor bottle.

Yesterday was an odd experience. Silas had become my bodyguard for the convention. I offered a room, so he doesn’t have to wake up early to come to the airport with me, and he prudently accepted, and he had scouted the house too.

Then he went into his room, avoiding the heck out of me as if I was going to rob him of his freedom if he didn’t stay away from me.

I would be lying if I said that hadn’t hurt.

Now, he’s being unreasonable for waking me up at the unholy hour of six in the morning. Six, not a soul on the planet believes that this hour is for anything but sleeping. Not Silas though, he’s a creature that does what he wants.

Last night was a struggle to sleep knowing he was in my house, but it was worse when I heard my phone indicate that the sensors in my home had picked up movement. I didn’t set the sensors on when I’m sleeping or out of my home to catch paranormal activities. I wanted to make sure no one broke into my home—like any reasonable person.

Silas had woken up at five. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but I still got an hour of sleep before he had brusquely woken me up with that signature frown on his face.

Silas hisses, “You have ten minutes to come out.”

With that, he’s out of my bedroom as if he hadn’t just tried to burn me with the morning sunlight. Winter sunlight is worse in my home because I wanted to get a house that has more natural sunlight to help me work harder.

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