I try to hide my amusement when she smacks her head a second later. “Oh, duh. You probably already have a million dollars and can do whatever the hell you want.”
“Not whatever I want.” If I could do whatever I want, she’d be tied to my headboard right this very minute while I made her toes curl, and she’d grow hoarse from screaming her pleasure.
She holds my gaze, and I wonder if she knows my thoughts went to keeping her here with me.
“Pet peeve?” she asks.
“When people don’t tell the truth. And I don’t just mean big lies, everyone hates those. I hate the little lies people say. To each other. To themselves.”
“Oooh. Deep.”
“Yours?”
“When people don’t put the carts away at the grocery store.”
I almost laugh, before I realize she’s serious.
“You’re not joking.”
She shakes her head. “Why should someone have to go get carts in the rain or blazing sun just because someone’s lazy ass didn’t have the decency to put the damn thing back? It’s just the right thing to do.”
I wonder if Samantha’s entire code of ethics could be summed up in that one line. It was just the right thing to do.
“Night owl or early bird? Oh, wait. You told me you get up at the ass crack of dawn to work out.” She grimaces.
“Guess that gives me your answer, then.”
“Yep.” She yawns. “Not tonight, though. That amaretto kicked my ass.”
“Understood. Okay, so you can stay in the guest room. Let’s get you up to bed.” She looks at me, and I look at her, and I’d smile if there wasn’t something sad, almost wistful, in her eyes.
I show her to the guest room, all business now. I don’t want her to think I’m only going to hit on her like any other douchebag who wants to get laid.
I mean, I’m a douchebag and I want to get laid, but I like to think I have some redeeming qualities.
We peek in on Toni before we settle in for the night. She’s curled up next to Prince, and Prince’s little paw is on her shoulder.
“Oh my goodness,” Samantha whispers, turning into a puddle of goo. “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”
Not true, I think. The most adorable thing I’ve ever seen is standing right here next to me.
But okay, it’s pretty cute.
“Does he do that a lot?’
“Do what?”
“Just put his paw on you or something.”
She shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself, her voice a breath of a whisper. “No. I’ve never seen him do it before.”
We both stare in silence at the little picture before us. “Animals have strong intuition, though. He must’ve known she needed his comfort tonight.”
Regret surges through me. I had business to attend to, yeah, but I didn’t have to pawn the kid off the way I did. I make a vow to myself, right then and there, that I won’t ever let it happen again.
Toni’s my charge, now. And I’ll take this fucking seriously.
I walk with Samantha to her room. “Bathroom’s stocked with toiletries and fresh towels,” I say, gesturing. “Extra pillows and blankets in the closet. If there’s anything you need, let me know.”
“Thank you.”
I turn to leave when she calls my name. “Miguel?”
“Yeah?”
She holds my gaze, then shakes her head, and her cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
This time, I don’t pry. It’s late, we’ve had a long day, and six a.m. comes way too fucking quickly. But I don’t leave when I shut the door behind me. I stand and listen. There’s a soft rustle of fabric, then the sound of running water. I imagine she’s undressing, and for one brief moment, I wonder if I’ve imagined there’s anything between us.
It’s been so long since I’ve even had to question whether or not a woman wanted to be with me. I’ve had women—any woman I wanted—for years.
But this one… she plays hard to get.
One thing she’ll learn about me, though.
I always get what I want.
Chapter 11
Samantha
I strip off my clothes and climb into the bed in nothing but my underwear. I’m somehow vividly aware that I’m sleeping in Miguel Santiago’s house in my undies. Thankfully, it’s one of the good pairs I got from Victoria’s Secret with a coupon freebie.
Not that he’s going to see me in my underwear.
Why not my hormonal, horny inner voice protests.
Because this isn’t going to go anywhere, my pragmatic, older sister inner voice scolds. I roll my eyes at her wisdom and settle into the pillows.
I almost asked him if I could borrow a T-shirt or something. The words were right there on my lips, but I had a feeling that if I planted the idea of me wearing his T-shirt, he might sort of like the idea, and that cannot happen.
Though the truth is, he probably thinks a lot less about me than I think he does. Isn’t that always the way? That kiss in the kitchen? Ha, he was just trying to prove he can manipulate me.