Page 51 of Ride By Your Side

“Well, what would you prefer instead? A spanking?” he asks.

“I mean, if you’re offering,” I cheekily reply, as he just shakes his head.

“Okay, well, that’s enough from you,” he says, slowly lowering me to the ground. “But you better be on your best behavior.”

“And what if I’m not? Am I going to go back in time-out, or will I actually be lucky enough to get one of those spankings you just offered?” I tease, liking the way his cheeks flush a bright pink.

“Don’t tempt me,” he says, doing his best to recover as his eyes darken.

I take my bottom lip with my teeth, my gaze meeting his. “But what if I like tempting you? If anything, it should be you who stops tempting me, especially if you aren’t actually going to manup and act on it,” I challenge, since it certainly wasn’t me who stopped things the other night.

“I don’t think you fully grasp what you’re asking for here or what the negative repercussions of all this could be,” he says, his voice a low, husky growl. Ignoring the warning, I step closer, the air between us somehow charging even more.

“Believe me, I know exactly what I’m asking for,” I say, meeting his gaze with confidence. “And I’m not worried, and I don’t think you should be either.” Maybe I should be taking this more seriously—even with the paint smeared across his cheek—but in this moment, nothing has ever made me want Miles more than I want him right now.

A bell chimes from the front door, and while I stand my ground, Miles takes a step back, scratching at his neck with his free hand. “Took you all long enough,” he says, trying to act casual and not like we were just caught in the middle of an important conversation.

Blair’s eyes scan her new studio, her gaze taking an extra moment to assess the both of us and the trouble we’d caused. “Really, guys?” she asks, making her way inside as she hands over my usual white chocolate mocha iced coffee.

“What?” I innocently ask before bringing the cup to my lips and taking a sip.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” she says, jutting out her hip as she places her now free hand atop it.

“Don’t worry. We didn’t make a mess,” Miles cuts in, thankfully taking some of the heat off me as he walks toward Ford and grabs his own coffee.

“Yeah, and you’re lucky because—” Blair starts, but Miles interrupts.

“And you’re lucky that we’re here on our day off helping, so you get what you get,” Miles responds, his happy-go-lucky attitude from just moments ago completely gone.

“Okay, so,” Ford cuts in, his usual peacemaker self making an appearance, “now that we all have our coffee and caffeine for the day, what do you need us to do next?” he asks, as Blair takes a moment to recenter herself and lets out a calming breath.

“You two finish with the shelves, and now that the grouchy princess has had her coffee, maybe she can finally help me with the painting,” she says, tilting her head toward me, a small smile tugging at her lips—the kind of smile that feels like a peace offering after the earlier tension.

“I think that can be arranged.” I return her smile, and while the coffee helps, my mind is buzzing, especially after everything that just went down with Miles. I’m wide awake now. My only regret? We never got to finish that conversation. But after the way he looked at me and how his walls seem to be coming down, brick by brick, I have no intention of letting this be the last of it.

30

Miles

HaveIbeenavoidingleaving my room because of a short little brunette with siren brown eyes? Yes. Does that make me a coward? Probably, but I prefer to think of it as self-preservation. I’m not scared of much, but there is something about her that absolutely terrifies me. It’s not just the way she looks at me, like she knows she has the power to bring me to my knees, but the fact that she’s got me thinking about her at all hours of the day like some lovesick teenager.

A part of me has always known she was trouble, especially watching her charm my sister into one mess after another. Despite all the warnings I gave Blair, I never quite grasped just how good she is at burrowing under your skin and saying all the right things. But now I get it. I should know better, I really should—but damn, she’s too fucking irresistible.

I know I can only hide out here for so long without looking like a complete loser, especially with my stomach growling loudenough to be heard from the other room. It’s clear I need to go out there, if only to grab a quick bite.

With a frustrated sigh, I toss my phone aside, push myself up, and head for the door. With my hand on the knob, I stop, take a centering breath, and open it. How in the world have I let a 5 foot nothing someone turn my life so upside down?

Apparently, I was worried for nothing, as not only is the kitchen empty, but so is the living room. Do I chance it and actually make myself a decent dinner, or do I hurry while I can and make myself a less nutritious snack plate, like the ones I usually give her crap for? Okay, so maybe I now get the appeal of her so-called “girl dinner.”

As I open the fridge and scan my options, the sound of Veronica’s door creaking open signals the end of my brief moment of peace. I should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

“Wow, the snack goblin makes an appearance,” she teases with a playful lilt as she follows me into the kitchen.

“A snack goblin? Really?” I ask, turning to glance over my shoulder, which turns out to be a monumental mistake.

Not only is she wearing a grey low-cut crop top that shows off a decent portion of her stomach, but she’s also sporting a pair of equally short shorts—if they can even be called that. She has to be doing this on purpose.

I do my best not to show how affected I am by her presence, but I’m sure I fail as I avert my eyes back to the fridge. I need to get out of here, and fast.

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