The Best Next Thing ((Un)Professionally Yours 1)

“Don’t forget these.” His eyes dropped to her hand and his cheeks actually flushed.

“Christ,” he muttered, and yanked the underwear from her hand. “I’m so sorry. Truly. They’re clean, I put them out to wear after my shower.”

“You do know that I do your laundry, right?” He seemed so charmingly flustered that she couldn’t resist teasing him. He shot her an appalled look, his face a study in consternation and mortification.

“Fuck…I…goodnight.”

“Goodnight…sir.” Oh, she was feeling so damned brave. She already knew that this blushing, near naked man, with the puppy clutched to his chest didn’t scare her. And now she was testing the limits of her courage by teasing him. She couldn’t remember the last time she had teased a man. Or just enjoyed being around one.

“Watch it, Mrs. Cole. Or I may ask you to teach me how to make pancakes tomorrow.”

“I can do that.” The impulsive words were out before she could stop them. But when she considered them, she recognized that she was happy enough with the offer. She was even looking forward to it.

“You can?”

“Sure. But not tomorrow.”

“Oh yes, because of the cleaning service, right?”

The cleaning service would be in for their fortnightly visit tomorrow. And they would probably stay all day. Charity had already informed Miles that his breakfast would have to be a hit and run affair in the morning.

“I thought, if it’s a nice day, I’d take Stormy to the beach,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”

“I have to oversee the cleaning staff.” She didn’t really have to, because they were employed by an independent company, and would have their usual on-site supervisor accompanying them. Charity always felt superfluous when they were here. They were so fast, efficient, and reliable.

In fact, she usually took the day off when they were scheduled to come.

“Let me know if you change your mind. Stormy and I would both enjoy your company.”

He left before she could reply.

Bacon, one egg—sunny side up—mushrooms, and toast. Aside from the hot breakfast awaiting him at his usual spot in the kitchen the following morning, there was no sign of Charity.

Miles tried not to be disappointed by her absence and sat to have his solitary breakfast. He didn’t know why he had expected to see her this morning. Perhaps because last night had felt like a breakthrough in their odd relationship. A tacit acknowledgment that perhaps they were ready to explore the limits of what they could say and do to each other.

But—if not for his plan to go to the beach—this day would probably have followed the usual pattern. Breakfast alone, spend time with Stormy, chat with Amos, try to engage Charity in conversation. And fail. Walk and lunch alone. Watch Charity clean the kitchen, offer to help. Get rejected.

End of part one.

Listen to one of his recently purchased audiobooks, try to convince Charity to watch some television with him. Fail again. Play with Stormy, swim, contact his siblings and mother, have dinner. Alone. Bedtime.

End of part two.

Rinse and repeat.

He had come here for the isolation and had resigned himself to the tedium that was bound to accompany that isolation. At least Stormy offered a welcome respite to that tedium. He shouldn’t want more. But he did. And he had since the moment he had set eyes on Charity stripped of her armor that first night.

But that wasn’t her problem, it was his. And he should respect her desire for solitude and let her do her job without interference. God knew, he was trying, but every so often—like last night—he felt like she enjoyed his company, that she was as intrigued by him as he was by her.

And the confusing signals were driving him fucking crazy.

At least today, thanks to the rare crisp and clear day with which the weather gods had gifted them, he was looking forward to something a little different. Stormy’s first visit to the beach.

He would drive himself, not something he often did, but he had been keen on trying out his Land Rover on some of the challenging off-road terrain. He sighed, put Charity firmly out of his mind, and finished his breakfast.

It’s just a day at the beach. You deserve a day off. Be brave…

Be brave.