Page 65 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

Yes, please. “Nope. Nope, I’m good.” The poor pillow was getting the life squeezed out of it.

Miles kept his hand available in case I changed my mind. So not happening. If I held his hand, I was sure I would want to be entangled.

“How’s Chloe?” he randomly asked. “Other than her phone case dilemma?”

I exchanged a knowing look with him. Chloe had been in a tizzy two nights ago at dinner because the wrong phone case was delivered with her phone and it was taking forever, in her opinion, for the right one to be delivered. I wouldn’t let her take her phone to school until it was properly protected. She must have begged me for thirty minutes. She’d even tried to get Miles on her side, which she did. I still didn’t budge.

“The correct case came today and she’s with my parents, so she’s as happy as can be, well, mostly. She’s bummed because she has to ask my dad to be her date for the daddy-daughter dance next week. I think every year it’s her secret wish that her own dad, if you can call him that, will take her. And with him being in town, I think it hurts more.”

Even in the dark I could see Miles’s face redden. “The bloke is an arse. I hope he stays the hell away from you and Chloe. He owes you that at least.”

“I told him he either needed to be all in or all out. Sadly, I don’t know if he’s capable of the first option. Or if he just doesn’t want to try.”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. “Every man should own up to his limitations and bloody well have the courtesy not to commit to someone if he can’t follow through. And he sure as hell shouldn’t father a child with her.”

I paused and took a moment to study him before I replied. His response felt more like a self-indictment. Or maybe he was angry about his own father. Or both? “Leland set his own limitations and has used it as an excuse. He wants all the perks without any of the work it takes to make a relationship work. Whether that’s a romantic relationship or a parent-child one. But people can change if they want to. Even me.”

Miles drummed his fingers against his legs. I had come to recognize that as his way of releasing tension. “What are you trying to change?”

I curled my legs under me. “I don’t want to be the woman Leland left. I’m trying to forgive her. Maybe in the process, I can figure out what a real relationship is.”

Miles’s finger ceased drumming. His gaze intensified. “Are you looking for a relationship?”

“Let’s just say I’m not swearing them off anymore. But I still reserve my right to think most men are douche bags.” I grinned.

“You’d be right.” He sat up and took a long sip of his wine.

We each turned our attention back to the show. We watched for several minutes in silence, but I could tell Miles was restless. He kept inching closer and looking my way. No wonder he never watched TV; he couldn’t sit still and enjoy it. I finally paused the show and turned toward him. “Would you rather talk?”

“I thought you would never ask.” He scooted closer.

I had nowhere else to go so I shifted the pillow to be between us. This didn’t go unnoticed. His eyes were laughing at me.

“Do you have something on your mind?” I asked.

He nodded slowly and deliberately. Yeah, that was kind of sexy. We really needed to turn a light on. Or maybe Henry could wake up and need me. Anything to save me from entangling.

“Your mother said something in her report about Silent Stones that bothered me.”

Great. I knew I should have wrestled that thing away from her. “What did she say?” I grimaced.

“She said my kissing scenes were pathetic.”

I rubbed my lips together, trying not to smile. “Well . . .”

He sat up straight with his jaw dropped. “You agree with her, don’t you? My biggest fan thinks I can’t write a bloody kissing scene.”

“When did I become your biggest fan?”

“Don’t try and change the subject,” he teased. “Tell me why you think that? Better yet, tell me how to fix it.”

“I don’t know that I’m qualified to do that. You’re the writer.” And surely the man had more experience than me in that department. By his own admission, he was a generous lover. I believed him.

“I write thrillers, darling, not romance.”

“Given my life situation, I haven’t read a lot of romance novels either. And the only romance I’ve experienced in the last several years has come from watching every period romance the BBC and Masterpiece Theater has ever produced.”

He ripped the pillow away from me. “That’s excellent material. Show me what you’ve learned.”

---