Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
That’s all it takes for reality to snap into place.
Laiken’s penthouse.
The guest room.
I’m wearing his T-shirt.
Warmth slides through me as I shift beneath the covers. The shirt hangs low on my thighs, the hem brushing against bare skin. It’s soft and worn, stretched just enough to make it comfortable. It’s familiar in a way that doesn’t make sense.
Without thinking, I lift the collar to my nose and inhale. The scent is a mix of cotton and soap. There’s something deeper beneath it that’s woodsy, smoky, and unmistakably him.
My stomach flips.
God help me, the way he smells is more like a drug.
The realization hits hard as a wave of nausea rolls through me. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my palm against my stomach and slowly drawing air into my lungs until it passes.
Mostly.
This is the trickiest part of the day because mornings can be unpredictable. Some days are fine, while others feel like my body is dead set on reminding me that no matter how hard I try to pretend otherwise, something monumental is happening beneath the surface.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a moment, attempting to steady the roiling within me.
You can do this. Act normal. Just get through the day.
One step at a time.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I freeze, a split-second of fear that it’s Collin, determined to dog my every step. Instead of ignoring it, I straighten my shoulders and reach for the device, blinking against the sudden light as my brother’s name flashes across the screen.
I’d texted last night, explaining the nanny position had become more permanent.
Ollie:
Are you sure this is what you want? Just know that if it doesn’t work out, you can move back here. My door’s always open.
Emotion rises swiftly within me. My brothers have always been like that. Loud. Protective. Steady. Even when I’ve screwed up, they’ve never made me feel like I didn’t belong.
It takes a moment for me to type back, as I choose my words carefully.
Me:
I’m okay. For now, the arrangement works. It gives me time to figure things out. Love you.
Ollie:
Love you too, kid.
With a smile, I set the phone down as the warmth of our exchange lingers before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower. Once done, I pull on my jeans and sweater from yesterday, folding Laiken’s T-shirt neatly on the bed.
I hesitate, eyeing the cotton.
Don’t do it. Do not, under any circumstances, smell his shirt. It’s weird and—
Damn.
Unable to resist, I lift the material again and breathe it in one final time.
I seriously can’t believe I just did that. This is ridiculous. I force myself to set it down and head toward the kitchen, determined to get a jumpstart on the day.
Elody’s boisterous voice greets me first.
“Kia!”
She barrels straight into my legs, wrapping her arms around me with all the enthusiasm of a puppy.
“Good morning to you too,” I say on a laugh, brushing my fingers through her curls.
“You stayed over!”
“I did.”
From across the kitchen, Laiken watches us. He’s standing at the stove, spatula in hand, shoulders relaxed in a way that makes him look more approachable. The league fears him, yet his four-year-old daughter can turn him into a pile of mush. It’s unexpectedly sweet.
“Would you like some eggs?” he asks. “I was just making breakfast.”
The word eggs is all it takes to make my stomach roll hard enough that I have to steady myself against the counter.
I shake my head, suppressing a grimace. “No, thanks. I’ll just have a piece of toast.”
His eyes narrow a fraction. Not with suspicion, exactly. More like awareness. “Aren’t much of a breakfast person, huh?”
“Doesn’t seem like it lately,” I say, forcing a smile and reaching for the bread.
Thankfully, he doesn’t push the issue. With a nod, he turns back to the stove, but I still feel the quiet weight of his attention all the same. It’s not judgment. More like silent questions.
Elody climbs onto a stool. “Can I stay home with Kia today? Pleeeease?”
“Nope, not today, bug,” Laiken says. “Your friends would miss you.”
She pouts.
“How about Kia drops you off and picks you up from school,” he adds. “That way you still get plenty of time together.”
The suggestion earns an approving smile.
As I butter my toast and nibble at the edge, Laiken mutters something about socks, rubbing his forehead, as if physically pained by the idea.
“She hates socks,” he says when I continue staring.
I roll up my jeans and show Elody my patterned ones. “Do you have a pair that look like this? If so, we can match. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Her eyes widen. “I’ll check!”
She hops off the stool and scampers toward her bedroom. Less than two minutes later, she’s back, holding up a pair that aren’t quite the same but close enough to count.
“Daddy! Look!” she announces proudly. “Kia and I are gonna be sock twins today!”