The Best Next Thing - Natasha Anders Page 0,78

dog. The question that popped out of her mouth next came from nowhere and shocked the ever-loving hell out of her. “And me?”

But he didn’t miss a beat. He diverted that affectionate look to her, and his lips parted in a soft smile. “You? I haven’t fallen for you…yet.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. What the hell did one say to something like that anyway?

He didn’t seem to expect a response, instead he continued, “But like I told you before, you intrigue the hell out of me, Charity. On so very many levels.”

She chose not to respond to that and waved her fork at his plate. “Eat your food, it’s getting cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The rest of the meal passed without further awkwardness and afterward, Miles attempted to help her clean up.

“Oh my God, what are you doing?” Charity snapped in exasperation when she walked into him a third time. He kept getting underfoot.

“Trying to help,” he muttered, looking sheepish.

“This again,” she muttered beneath her breath. Doing her utmost not to roll her eyes. “Are you getting paid to do this?” Her pointed question made him wince but he didn’t reply. “Well, I am. And I have a system. If you want to help, take your dog for a walk and leave me to do this.”

“It’s pouring,” he pointed out sullenly, and she glanced out the window to confirm. It was a hard drizzle at best, but since the man was recovering from an illness, he probably shouldn’t be out in it.

“Okay, fine. Sit over there and just…stay out of the way.” She pointed toward the banquette, and he slanted her a grin.

“Oh no, not the naughty corner, Mrs. Cole! I promise to be a good boy from now on.”

The words startled a laugh from her. “Okay, I suppose I sounded a little like that workhouse schoolmarm just then.”

“A tad,” he agreed, pouring the dregs of coffee from the machine before doing as he was told and taking a seat at the banquette. He dug his phone out of his jeans pocket and started tapping away.

Charity left him to it and continued with her work. It was surprisingly companionable, having him sit there while she went about her chores, and Charity found herself watching him often while she rinsed dishes for stacking in the dishwasher. His hair was a mess, he had once again neglected to shave, and his expensive polo shirt had a ketchup stain on the chest.

He looked sexily mussed, and she found it so appealing.

“Hey, George.” Her head whipped up at the sound of his voice, and for a second, she was confused, and glanced around the kitchen for George. But she soon realized that Miles was on the phone with the man. “I need a ride into town. Are you available? Yeah? Around three. Thank you, see you then.”

He disconnected the call and went back to texting.

Curious and frustrated when he didn’t seen fit to immediately tell her what the call was about, Charity couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Where are you off to?”

“Hmm?” He looked up absently, and his eyes cleared when he registered the question. “Oh. I thought I’d look into that puppy socialization class Brand spoke of yesterday. The vet has an app that allows you to reserve a slot.”

“Why call George? You’re capable of driving a short distance like that yourself.”

He looked abashed, and when he spoke, the words were almost reluctantly conceded. “I pay George a retainer, but he earns something extra every time he has to drive us somewhere when we’re on vacation. And I figured with a grandchild on the way…”

He shrugged, allowing her to fill in the rest herself.

“Oh.” Her heart turned to mush. How incredibly sweet. “That’s so nice of you.”

The tips of his ears turned pink, and he lifted his shoulders in a small awkward movement.

“It’s a small thing. And George is a good guy.” His voice was gruff, and he refused to meet her eyes.

“You’re the good guy,” she whispered, still astonished that she had she not recognized that fact before now. How had she always assumed that this gentle, considerate, kind man was cold and unlikable?

She was once again struck by the differences between him and Blaine. Her dead husband had lauded his good deeds over the rest of the world. He had frequently managed to casually drop his latest act of charity into random conversation and then feigned humility when people sang his praises.

Oh, it was nothing. I don’t seek acclaim for doing

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