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He's still holding five cards. I'm down to one. He bites his lip, drumming his fingers along the edge of the table.
He's stalling.
Which means he's got crappy cards. Which means he has to pick up.
Which means… "I win!" I place my last card down and raise my hands triumphantly, imitating his winning gesture from earlier.
"Congratulations," he says good-naturedly. "Thirteen-twelve. You're the champion. Well done."
"Why, thank you." I stretch my arms out overhead and without thinking, ask, "Do I win a prize?"
The air in the room changes immediately.
Shit. That must've been the beer talking. I glance over at the empty bottles lined up in a row atop the kitchen island.
There'd been a soft, playful undercurrent whirring all day. A boss and his employee having some unexpected time off together. It'd been innocent. Light.
But my question came out suggestively. Hoarsely.
Kyler looks at me, his lips curving up into a sexy smirk. "You definitely deserve a prize. What did you have in mind,Mr. Huntington?"
My name doesn't sound formal on his lips. It sounds flirty and silky and…I really like it. Maybe he's a little tipsy, too?
He leans back, carefully studying my face as I let his question roll around in my head. In a way, I've already won. I got to share a bed with him last night. I never thought I'd get the chance to do that. I had his warm, lean body bundled against me, the scent of his hair in my nostrils, and the rise and fall of his chest echoing mine all night long.
But I can't exactly ask for another night of that as my prize, so I take a chance and say, "Your drawings. Can I see some of your drawings?"
His hazel eyes narrow. "That'swhat you want as your prize?"
"It is."
"Okay."
With a shrug, he gets up and wanders over to his suitcase, returning with the leather-bound red sketchbook I've seen him drawing in numerous times.
"Here you go." He hands it to me. "I need to use the bathroom."
"Thanks." I take the pad. "Do you want me to wait until you get back to start looking?"
I have an artsy friend who can be very temperamental about showing me her work. It's always best to check.
"Nah. It's fine." Kyler's already walking away.
I flick the book open and take in the first few sketches. They're black-and-white and hyper realistic. Each drawing, whether it be of an object, animal, or landscape is rendered in such breathtaking detail, it could easily be mistaken for a photograph.
I keep admiring his work, blown away by his raw talent. Then I turn the page and choke on my breath.
At the exact same time, I hear an almighty "Nooooo!" from the bathroom.
5
Kyler
It hits me midstream what I've done, instantly snapping me out of my tipsy haze.
The stupid, calamitous, potentially life-ruining blunder I've made. A lapse in judgment I blame on drinking too much beer and having too much fun with Miles.
My armor is down, my brain's on vacation. It's the only explanation for my grievous error.
