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As Shep told me, Mia’s past isn’t the same as mine. She’s been conditioned to seek out information as a means of self-defense.
I’ll need to accept that if I give it a go with her.
And if I can’t make peace with that side of her, then this won’t work.
Just like she needs to accept my job and family obligations. Something Jenna never could.
After Mia gets out of the shower, she throws on a knee-length gray skirt and wispy blouse in the same emerald green that makes my balls ache. She joins me at the table, her expression sparkling while she surveys the meager breakfast spread.
“This is so sweet of you, Cal. Thank you.”
Shrugging, I play off her thanks. I don’t do this kind of shit for appreciation. I do it because it’s how I was raised. To always take care of the ones you love.
Well, shit. Don’t read into that.
I’m not in love with Mia.
“I thought you’d join me in the shower. I left the door open for you,” she says between sips of coffee, her hungry eyes devouring me.
“I considered it. But if I did, we wouldn’t make it to work, and sadly, we’re going to be busy today.”
She winks at me. “I owe you some relief today. Hopefully we have some downtime,” she pauses and lowers her voice, “so I can go down.”
Sexy minx.
“At work?” I pretend to be shocked, chin wagging low and eyes wide as saucers. “How dare you be so brazen, you harlot. Some might say that’s a bit naughty.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can think of a way to punish me for my transgressions.”
The animal inside me claws to be let loose.
“Woman, I’m about ten seconds from skipping the food and eating you for breakfast instead.”
“Right on the table? In front of the eggs?” She mock gasps.
I lean in close, buying some time to think of a snappy comeback. But her damn phone beeps from the other room, ending our flirty banter.
Damn.
She rolls her eyes, takes a big swig of coffee to finish it, and then rushes off to get her phone.
As I bring the dishes into the kitchen to clean them, she calls me from the bedroom. “Cal!”
My spine stiffens at the concern I hear in her voice. “Yeah?”
When I reach the doorway, she’s standing over the open bedside table drawer and rifling through it frantically.
Is she searching for the butt plug? I didn’t take it.
“Did you take my tablet?” Dropping to her knees, she lifts the comforter and looks under the bed, then crawls on her knees to peek behind the nightstand.
“No. Your Redleg tablet?”
“No, my personal one.”
“Where did you last see it?” I join her in her search, moving to the other side of the bed to scan the floor and dresser, but she’s rather tidy; nothing stands out to me.
“It was in the drawer. Did you see it when you got my plug out last night?”
