Page 89 of A Million To Fall

“You’re something else, you know that?” I say, my voice lower than before.

A faint pink blooms across her cheeks. “That’s either a compliment or an insult.”

“Depends on the day.”

She nudges my shoulder with hers.

I grin. “Seriously, though. Most people probably watch this show and think, wow, I’d love to be rich enough to rent that yacht.”

“And?”

“And somehow you watch it and think, wow, I’d love to be the employee.”

She gives me a bright smile that I return without hesitation.

The conversation drifts then. Little things. Nothing things.

We talk about people from high school. Teachers we hated. That one Fourth of July when Jake accidentally lit a trash can on fire trying to launch fireworks. The fact that Jonathan somehow still can’t parallel park.

At some point, Skye kicks her feet up on the couch, conjures a blanket from somewhere, and wraps herself in it like she’s preparing for one of Stillwater’s legendary blizzards.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

“No,” she says but immediately pulls the blanket tighter around herself.

I snort. “Liar.”

“It’s aesthetic.”

“That’s not what aesthetic means.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Pretty sure it isn’t.”

She ignores me completely.

A few minutes later, she shifts closer—so close that her shoulder brushes mine. Before I can prepare myself, she rests her head against me.

“Thank you for being here, Boss.” Her voice is quiet, but undeniably content.

My throat, on the other hand, feels suspiciously tight. “Cancelled my very exciting evening plans just for you.”

She only chortles softly.

Outside, a wind chime tink-tinks lazily in the warm summer breeze.

The television drones on.

The room grows quieter.

Skye’s responses become less frequent. Then shorter. Then they stop altogether.

I glance at her. Her eyes are closed.

“Stormy?”

Nothing.