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A couple of years ago, I’d have already dragged Reese to my bedroom and fucked the life out of her.
But her kid niece is asleep in my guest room. And the fact that we’ve gotten physical enough means a thousand complications are already erupting into our lives like crooked teeth.
She deserves better than a rushed fuck.
Also, I don’t want her thinking that’s why I asked her to stay.
I’m going to do the right thing for once—even if it murders me—and that means not devouring a woman I haven’t even taken on a real date we both know about.
I’m not looking forward to the ice-cold shower I’ll need to survive this long-ass night.
Reese chooses Wolf of Wall Street on Netflix.
“This is your pick?” I say in disbelief.
“Do you not like it?”
I laugh heartily. “I love it. I don’t know many girls who dig it, though.”
She scrunches her nose up. “Yeah, well, most of the girls you know are those high-maintenance model types.”
After an hour in with my well-behaved arm around her shoulder, she yawns and says she can’t keep her eyes open.
I switch off the TV, head for my room, and curse my way through the coldest shower of my life. I’m fucking shivering when I come out in a robe and flop down on my mattress.
Why did I buy such a massive bed? It’s too big for one person. Too empty.
Because you spent years never going to bed alone, dumbass, a voice says in the back of my mind. This monk life is new. It sucks.
Reese’s words haunt me. You’re making me crazy.
I wanted to haul her into this bed so bad when she said that. Hell, I would’ve settled for the nearest flat surface.
She’s turned me into a heated mess.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but sleep doesn’t come easy.
My thoughts land on Will Frisk, the reason they’re here. Nothing seems beneath that puke, including hurting Reese or Millie.
Still, in a twisted sense, I owe him. My home feels more complete while I’m protecting the girls from his crap.
I don’t know what he has planned next—guys like him rarely give up after a single snag—but I don’t want either of them out of my sight. I need to check on them.
And scotch. I need scotch.
Another thing I can’t have, which makes me grit my teeth.
I fight my instincts for God knows how long until I remember I never finished that root beer. Sighing, I climb out of bed.
I pass by the room they’re sharing on my way to the kitchen. Millie sleeps sideways in the bed with her whole body wrapped around a pillow, snug next to a pile of blankets.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing when I realize Reese isn’t here.
Where is she? I walk through the living room and kitchen looking for her, and when I don’t find her, I check the guest room again. Millie’s knocked out, but no Reese.
I check the other guest room. Millie must have ran her out. Reese sleeps like an angel in there, splayed out on the bed.
I may have left a mark on her neck earlier, which is darkening to burgundy now.
Oops.
I pull on a sweater, slide into some shoes, grab my drink, and open the sliding glass door for the balcony.
It’s warm enough tonight not to shrivel up like a walnut. The twinkling skyline glimmers, beautiful as always. There’s a reason this is my favorite place to think.
I must be out there for almost an hour when something scuffs behind me.
“Quick Nick,” a tiny voice says.
I turn around to find a barefoot Millie hugging a pink teddy bear. “I...I had a bad dream.”
“You did?” I step inside and pull the door shut behind me. It’s way too cold for Millie to be outside barefoot.
“Can’t sleep. And I dunno where Auntie Reese went. And I’m scared.” She presses her thumb to her tiny mouth.
That’s a lot of “ands.”
“You’re lucky I used to work for the Sandman,” I say, waving a hand toward the kitchen. “Come with me. I’ll give you something that’ll put you right down.”
We step into the kitchen, and I adjust the lights so they’re not blinding.
“Ever heard of spiced milk?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“My grandma used to make it for my brother and me whenever we had nightmares. She told me it’s a magic potion, and if you drink it all up, you’ll always have sweet dreams.”
Millie gasps. “I wanna try!”
“Coming right up.” I go to work, only pausing when I hear her little voice again.
“Your gramma used to make it for you?”
“Yep.”
“Not your mommy?”
Damn. I’m lucky my mother didn’t sell me to the highest bidder.
“Nah. Our grandparents were a lot like our parents growing up. It all worked out,” I say.
“Did your mommy go away too? Like mine?”
Fuck. I look over and her face is wilted with sad thoughts.
