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She started dragging me from the bed and as my feet hit the floor, she gasped in mock shock. “Sweet baby, mythical Jesus—what are you wearing?”
“What?” I looked down at my white, button up shirt.
“Is that Rook’s?”
“Um,” I gulped. “It’s comfortable.”
“Honey,” she shook her head sadly. “Seriously, have you learned nothing from me?”
“Where are we going?"
She was pulling me down the stairs—always moving, that girl—and into the kitchen, banging open the cupboards. “Real men don’t want comfortable. They want sexy. We’re getting you some good lingerie stat.”
"It's not like that."
She shut a cupboard, swiveling towards me. "Are you really that naive? No guy would fly a girl's best friend, whom he has never met, for a girl he isn’t fucking." She had a knowing glint in her eye. “Especially an older, mature, and hot-as-hell man like that.”
Fucking? Did she think that was all this was about?
“I swear, Amara. It’s just not like that.”
“Then what is it just like?
I opened my mouth, trying to figure out how to explain to her what we were. Because it was so much more than what she was implying. Plus, technically, I was still a virgin.
“He’s…”
Well, I wasn't exactly sure what he was to me.
She raised an eyebrow at my lack of response, then, sighing heavily, changed the subject. “The man has money, so please tell me he has some decent food."
"Like eggs and spinach?” I said. "Quinoa or oatmeal?”
“You've got to be kidding me."
"You have no idea," I said, pushing forward the note on the counter: my meals for the day.
She picked it up, reading out loud. “For breakfast: eggs, only one slice of cheese, avocado, spinach, and tomatoes." She tossed it to me, "He tells you what to eat every day?"
I nodded, "Yup."
Her eyebrows furrowed and she bit down on her lower lip, a thoughtful look on her face. Glancing behind me, she leaned forward, whispering low, "Summer. If you think you're in a bad situation... I mean, if you're uncomfortable with living here, maybe you should leave. He can't force you to stay, no matter how much money he's given you."
“Good morning, Summer.” There was a sudden low and deep voice behind me. One that sent my insides quaking and heat to pool in my belly, "I see you've found my gift."
My insides lit up.
I couldn’t help it.
Turning, I held up the paper, giving him a sassy tone. "You mean your bossy notes?"
The sight of him was arresting. His hair was messy, the top buttons of his shirt undone, black circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't had any sleep last night.
I'd thought I had a bad weekend, but he looked even worse. Even though he’d been at my side every moment of the day, he’d disappeared in the nights.
He stiffened, and I suddenly realized I'd fucked up. He'd gone though all of the trouble to bring Amara here, even though he was obviously exhausted, and I'd been ungrateful.
His gaze darkened, his eyes going to the note. "You don't like my gift?”
