Page 43 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

Just seeing all the remnants of the words he had erased had me feeling sucker punched for him. “How long does it usually take you to outline?”

“Normally a few weeks, but this took months, and it was all for naught,” he sighed.

“What happened?”

He longingly looked over the mostly empty board while he ran his hand over his head. “I’ve felt a bit paralyzed. The raging success of Silent Stones caught me off guard, as did Isabella. I think I’ve been so afraid to finish the next book for fear it won’t live up to the first one, or to Isabella’s expectations, that I’ve been playing it safe.”

“Aren’t you in charge of Isabella?”

“No, darling.” He let the darling stand instead of correcting himself and changing it to Aspen. “She is very much in charge of her story. I am only her medium. And she let me know that she wasn’t exactly happy with the direction I was going.”

I finally took a good look at the board and absorbed what was left. There were still several interesting bits of information, like how part of the story was going to take place in America in a Colorado mountain town, and there were more clues about her father’s death and evidence that he didn’t kill Lord and Lady Alexander. The most interesting plot point available was that Isabella’s captor, Dexter, was also the hero. Her would-be lover. I began to wonder how Isabella would feel about that. So I asked, “Is Isabella ready to love someone, especially her captor?”

Miles studied me for a moment before he spoke. “Why am I not surprised you asked that question?”

I thought back to what my mother had said about how eerily similar Isabella and I were. “Do I remind you of her?” I carelessly asked. Immediately, I felt stupid and presumptuous. It showed in my burning cheeks.

He lifted his hand as if he wanted to smooth my red cheeks, but instead he made a fist and dropped it. “I can hardly get over how much you remind me of her.”

After his admission, we stood locked in a gaze. I don’t think either one of us knew what to do with the truth that hung between us. My heart beat rapidly, not sure whether it should hope or if it should reinforce the walls it had been building for so many years.

Miles did me a favor and broke the connection by turning his focus back to the board. “You will find that it is very much Isabella who is holding Dexter captive, not the other way around. And I do believe she wants to love him, but is afraid to. I don’t blame her. The men in her past have shattered her trust. Like you, if you don’t mind me saying.” His ears pinked.

I don’t know why, but I liked that the debonair man could get embarrassed. “It is a well-known fact that I distrust men in general.” I kept my tone lighthearted.

“Can I ask you about your ex-husband?”

“What does he have to do with me helping you?”

“I believe getting to know you better will help,” he stated unabashedly.

“Um . . .” I wasn’t one for opening up, like my mother also pointed out.

A mischievous grin erupted on Miles face. “At least tell me whether you truly believe what you wrote to that woman. Are you better off without men?”

My cheeks were back to burning, along with the rest of my body. “I didn’t send the email.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had, but you didn’t the answer the question.”

I shifted my feet, deciding if this was one of those moments to be more open. Miles’s entreating stance convinced me. “It’s easier for me to believe I am. Like Isabella, I have built a fortress around my heart. Not because of what Leland did, but because I was so foolish to allow him to. It’s not men that I distrust, per se, it’s me.” That was enough of me being open. I shifted the focus off me. “I hope Dexter is a brave man willing to scale Isabella’s walls and get back up and begin the climb again each time she makes him plunge to the ground.”

“I believe he is.” Miles looked at me with such tenderness. “Is that what you wish for? A man willing to take any risk to win your heart?”

Why couldn’t he leave me out of it? He had to know how hard being open was for me. I shook my head, unsure. “I don’t know. No. Maybe.” I rubbed my neck. “I don’t want to hurt anyone the way Leland hurt me. I scaled walls for him, every time I was pushed down, until I finally learned it was safer on the ground. How can I expect someone to scale walls for me when I’m not even sure I know how to love a man, or want to?”

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