nshk khv.

jjg

long as mine linger on him.

“Charlotte,” he says quietly, approaching me.

“Hi,” I stammer awkwardly.

“You look…so beautiful.”

There is something about his tone, the way he trips over his words and adds so in there as if saying I simply look beautiful isn’t enough. It tells me he’s not just dishing out compliments to be polite. He looks almost shaken as his eyes rake over my body.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

Then his gaze casts upward to my house and back to me.

“My mom’s on the night shift and Sophie’s at a sleepover, or else I’d introduce you to my family.”

“You have a nice home,” he replies, and I giggle at him. It’s a thirty-year-old split-level. The grass needs mowing and I can see the smudgy windows from here. Still, it’s nice to hear him call it lovely because it is lovely to me. Although it’s not nearly as fancy as his.

“Actually, I live in the guest house in the back.” I point to the side gate I use to get to the casita next to the pool. It was a big deal when we bought the house, and I’m pretty sure my dad thought he was pretty hot s**t because his house came with a pool house.

“Ready?” He opens the passenger door for me and ushers me inside.

The moment we’re alone in the car, I get a whiff of his cologne, headier than his usual scent.

He seems tense as we drive, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. “Nervous?” I ask.