Page 35 of Desiring an Angel

Skylar left her house key on the kitchen counter beside our dinner’s dirty dishes she’d refused to wash even though her sister had demanded she do so. Nora, she’d claimed while closing the front door behind us, could clean up someone else’s mess for a change.

Chin held high, Skylar had marched to my car and sat rigidly on the passenger seat. She’d softened again when I reached for her hand and promised everything would work out in the way it was meant to.

Emotional exhaustion drooped her eyelids, and she slept propped up against the window before the first hour of travel passed.

I let her sleep, considering the next couple of days ahead of us.

A conversation with Rhett awaited, one I expected wouldn’t be enjoyable atop the stress he already found himself under. But as much as he pretended to be, he wasn’t a completely coldhearted bastard. He would understand why I’d offered the room to Skylar once I explained what had happened. I felt sure of it.

Once I knew Skylar’s employment history and skills, we would help her find a job, but I secretly hoped she might come to work for me and Rhett. But if things didn’t progress between the three of us in the way I yearned for, that might prove awkward.

I didn’t have any other ideas until we arrived home, and I hated to wake Skylar, but the smile she gifted me as she blinked to alertness while we sat in the garage made my pulse race.

“Okay?” I asked, trailing the backs of my fingers over her cheek.

“Yes. I had a good nap, and even though I could sleep for another ten hours without interruption, I’m feeling relieved. I can’t thank you enough.”

I grinned when I would have rather leaned in for a quick kiss. “Come on, then. Let’s get you settled in the guest room, then I’ll call Rhett to tell him what happened. Knowing him, he’ll have a plan to help you out and set in place within minutes.”

“Are you sure he’s going to be okay with this?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“As much as he pretends to be unmoved, he hates to see people suffering. Trust me on that one.” My own heart squeezed at the memory of his words that night in the cemetery when he’d given me a shoulder to lean on.

He would be drawn to Skylar same as he’d been to me. I knew it in the deepest marrow of my bones.

Skylar exhaled loudly and nodded. “Okay.”

I squeezed her hand quickly before hopping from the car.

She hadn’t gotten a look at the front of the house, but her eyes widened when we entered the kitchen through the garage and I flicked on the lights. While I’d grown accustomed to our chef’s kitchen with its stainless steel appliances, massive gas stove, and marble countertops, she stumbled to a stop to take it all in.

“Holy shit!”

I smirked at her squeak.

“Oh my God, this kitchen is…spectacular! Will you let me cook breakfast tomorrow?” she asked, her voice pitched high with wonder and delight while trailing her fingertips over the cool marble.

“You can cook any meal you want—whenever you want. But for now—” I bumped her backside with a clothing-stuffed trash bag “—let’s head upstairs.”

We lugged her belongings to the second floor, and I showed her to the guest room.

She gasped at the sight of the sunset glinting off the ocean beyond the windows. Her shoulders sagged as she dropped her bags to the floor.

“Oh wow,” she whispered, moving quickly across the bedroom to place her palms on the glass. “It’s breathtaking.”

I set the bags I held onto the floor and watched her.

Skylar now knew Rhett and I weren’t exactly scraping the bottom of the barrel to survive, but I felt she and I had already made enough of a connection that our money wouldn’t be a drawing factor. A bonus, sure, but—

She spun, her smile gone and eyes wide. “This…it’s too much, Ashton. I-I’m not…well, look at me.” Her hand fluttered over her billowy dress. “I wear secondhand clothing. Worn shoes from discount stores. I cut off dungarees to make my own shorts. I can’t afford haircuts every six weeks, and I refuse to paint my face with caking makeup like all your female friends must do. Oh! And I hate high heels with a passion.”

“None of that matters to me,” I stated quietly, moving quickly to cup her cheeks in my hands. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. I wouldn’t change one thing about you.”

“I’m a scatterbrain.”

“You’re refreshing,” I argued, rubbing my thumbs over her pointed chin that trembled.

“I’m forgetful.”

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