Page 122 of Midnights
“Of courseyou do, Meathead Mike,”I mutter under my breath, startling a squirrel.
“I betyourlife isn’t full of pushy emails.” I mutter, as it scurries up a tree, blissfully ignorant of my rant.
I jump when I hear a soft cough behind me.
Shit.
I turn around and find Kane standing there with his arms crossed and looking entirely too amused.Great.
“Are you following me? Again?” I give him my best unimpressed look. “You know what they say about stalkers…”
“Last night there was a storm, and your safety was in jeopardy.” The smile tugging at his lips is hard to miss.“I thought you were sleepwalking or something.”
“Well,obviously, I'm not sleepwalking,” I snap, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I was sightseeing. Same as last night, in fact. Why on earth would I be sleepwalking at this hour? The sun’s up, for heaven’s sake!”
My voice rises slightly and when I realize I’m rambling, I clamp my mouth shut.
He raises an eyebrow, looking me over. “Are ye goin’ for a swim?”
A swim?
“I realized you weren't sleepwalking when ye pulled out your phone and cursed ‘Meathead Mike’ to hell.”
His lips curve into a smirk. “Must've been quite the morning.”
My cheeks burn and I glance down at my bare legs, suddenly very aware of my lack of pants.Shit.I also wouldn’t have called himMeathead Mikeif I’d known someone was listening.
Woopsie.
“Oh, uhh...” I start, feeling flustered while I try to gather my thoughts.
“Not that it's any of your business,” I say, looking back out to the lake. “But I saw how beautiful it looked outside and… sort of got distracted.”
Totally normal behavior. Nothing to see here.
“I was headed to the swing when I got a work message.”
The corner of his mouth tips up, and I can see the humor dancing in his eyes. Is he trying not to laugh?
“From ‘Meathead Mike’?”
I groan. “Yes.”
“And? No backstory? Come on,” he presses, nodding toward the house as he falls into step beside me. “Let's go have breakfast, and ye can tell me on the way.”
The swing is forgotten the second he says breakfast. The thought of sitting across from Meathead Mike in a few hours is enough to seal the deal. With a sigh, I match his pace, shaking my head.
“I just have a meeting with him later. He seems like a total tool. Nothing crazy.”
“Ah, so that’s what’s got you all wound up this morning.” He chuckles, and I swear I can feel him cataloging every little move I make, filing it away for later.
We reach the house and he pulls the door open, stepping aside like the perfect gentleman. The universe is clearly playing favorites, because how does he always look so good? I suck in a small breath, completely distracted, and naturally, I trip.
Not a full-on face plant, thank God, but enough to be embarrassing. Luckily, I catch myself before any real damage is done, but when I look up, he's staring at me, and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.
I point a finger at him. “Not. One. Word.”
A laugh rumbles through the air, as he raises his hands in surrender.
