I slipped out of the guest bathroom the second Mom’s footsteps faded down the stairs, moving as quickly as my sore body would allow.
I kept my thighs pressed tight together, trying to walk normally, but it was useless. I half-waddled, half-limped down the short hallway to my own room, heart still racing from the close call.
I crossed to the window, cracked it open a few inches, letting the cool morning breeze wash over my flushed face. The fresh air felt good against my heated skin.
Then I saw it.
Down in the driveway, the sleek black Lambo roared to life—engine growling low and aggressive, the kind of sound that always made my stomach flip when he drove it.
Nathan was behind the wheel, already in a fresh button-down and dark jeans, hair still messy from my fingers. He didn’t look up
