Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“It was the same for me,” I murmur. “Then, yeah, I realized you were my step-uncle-to-be, and I knew it could never work.”
“What about now? Do you still think that?”
He leans toward me, and I know where this is going. I can already taste his lips. I can already sense the lust and affection that will blaze between us. I should get a medal for leaning away, my head butting the window.
“We’re in public,” I say with a shaky voice.
“I know,” He sighs darkly. “I can’t help myself, but you’re right. I have to try. From now on, we’ll be good. How does that sound?”
It sounds horrible, but it’s what I asked for. It’s what we should do.
“We have to try,” I tell him. “Thanks for the ride.”
I climb from the car, hurrying toward the restaurant. When I reach the door, I can’t resist the urge to turn and look at him to see if he’s still watching me.
He is watching, my powerful protector, looking like a giant in the car. My step-uncle. The man who could ruin everything.
Turning away is more effort than it should be, but I manage to do it. I stride into the restaurant, telling myself this is the last time Miles and I talk about anything that brings us closer to another kiss.
I know it’s a lie.
“Half day, is it?” Graham says when I head for the backroom.
He’s an older, bald man with a few gray wisps smoothed across his head. Tall and surprisingly strong, he cuts an imposing figure as he glares at me, pulling off a complete miracle. He looks intimidating in a chef’s hat.
“I’ve been here since eight,” I tell him. It’s five now. “That was my scheduled shift.”
He grins meanly. “Relax, I was only joking. Please, no tears in my kitchen.”
As usual, I ignore his asshole ways and quickly leave the kitchen.
I’ve been so busy today. First, I worked on my own recipes. Next came the crunch during the lunch rush, followed by a second wind in the afternoon. I haven’t thought about how I’m going to get home. This only occurs to me when I walk out onto the street. I laugh quietly at myself, feeling slightly proud of how absorbed I became with my work.
I’ll have to catch the bus, I reason, but then I look across the street and see Miles leaning against his car. It’s a powerful vehicle, suiting him, a large sedan with tinted windows. Miles must’ve recently come from the gym. He’s wearing shorts and a baggy T-shirt that hangs low on his chest, showing the top of his pecs.
As I cross the street, I think about our promise, our efforts to be good, and steer clear of the heat and the constant want that clashes between us.
“Your mom told me what time you finish,” Miles says, pushing away from the car. “I hope you’re not pissed to see me.”
“I’m not a monster, Miles. I’m glad for the ride.”
He smirks. I remember what he said about enjoying it when I gave him some sass. I can’t lie. I enjoy giving it, too, especially when his eyes glint and he beams at me.
“Then after you, my lady.”
He opens the passenger door, gesturing inside. Before I can step in, I hear Graham’s voice raised from behind me. “Layla, wait.”
I turn to find him hurrying across the street. He’s got his usual jerk expression, a mask of meanness, but then his gaze flits to Miles, and he falters. An actual tough guy has thrown him off his game.
“Yes?” I say.
He shuffles from foot to foot. “You forgot to clock out.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.”
He gestures at the restaurant. “Don’t be sorry. Clocking out is an important part of your job. If you’re going to leave early—”
“Early?” Miles snaps, causing Graham to shiver like an earthquake has just opened up beneath his feet. “This was her scheduled shift, wasn’t it?”
Graham summons some courage, looking at Miles. “It was a figure of speech.”
“Hmm, right,” Miles says gruffly.
I shoot Miles a look. He’s one of the few people who looks down on Graham from his imposing height. From how the older man shifts, I’m betting he’s not used to it.
“I’ll come and do it now. Sorry.”
Miles sighs darkly. “It’s an easy mistake to make. You could’ve clocked out for her and told her during her next shift.”
“I don’t take advice on how to run my business,” Graham says stiffly.
“It seems you get a sick thr—”
“It’s fine,” I snap. “Seriously. I won’t be long.”
“Who’s your friend?” Graham asks as we walk back into the restaurant.
“He’s my step-uncle,” I say, even if it feels like a lie.
I can still taste Miles on my lips, feel his touch against my sex through my pants.
“He needs to stay out of my business,” Graham snaps. “Don’t forget next time.”