crush. It’s just a saying. Obviously I don’t love my temporary for-hire boyfriend. Or whatever he is.”
Now Miller’s full-on grinning. “Mmm-hmmm.”
Miller is looking far too smug for my liking. I’m about to disabuse him of whatever fantasy he’s cooking up, but we’re interrupted by the jingle of the shop door.
Lunch time is officially over, and it’s time to sell some custom revamped vintage homecoming dresses.
“Make sure you make them feel welcome,” I say to Miller as I toss my leftover container into the trash. “And—”
“Chill, boss,” he says. “I’ve got this.”
And, despite being a little punk and a pain in my ass, it’s true. He’s ridiculously professional, knowing just what to say to the moms to soothe their worries about the dress’s hemline or a slightly-low bust. He’s also the right amount of flattering with the girls, helping to ease their insecurities about color choices and straps and making the bold decision—for a teenager—to buck the trend of buying something brand-new at a high-end store.
“Miller, you’re a dream,” says one of the girls as she twirls in a repurposed James Galanos the color of a creamsicle. “I wasn’t sure about the orange, but you’re right. My skin looks ahhh-mazing in this color.”
As she winks at him and disappears to show her mom, I give Miller a pointed look. “Wait. You’re one of the popular kids.” I’m frowning when I say it because, shocking though it is, I wasn’t. One of the popular kids. In high school. Or junior high even. I did have a nice run in elementary when it was still required to invite all of your classmates to your birthday party.
Miller is completely nonplussed by my revelation. “Duh. You don’t have to play football to be cool. And I don’t go to bed at nine-thirty on the weekends, which helps.”
“I told you it was closer to ten,” I retort, sullenly. “And while we’re on that topic, stop telling Warren all my secrets.”
Miller makes a motion like he’s zipping his lips. “My lips are sealed, boss.”
I stare at him, arms crossed. “That’s a lie.”
“Probably,” Miller readily agrees with a shrug. “How about I go make you another sale and we call it even?”
Well. He’s got me there. “That would be fine,” I agree with all the nonchalance of a person with no real bargaining power.
Chapter Thirteen
After a day of wielding homecoming dresses and teenage girls with Miller, I’m ready to relax.
And by relax, I mean attempt to read a book in my newly acquired—or, I guess, borrowed?—fancy bed at the governor’s mansion.
There’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.
Though it is sort of hard to focus on reading. There are many reasons. One of them being the ghost. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t like me. Or maybe it really, really likes me because there are cold spots wherever I go. Maybe it’s trying to be friends? Maybe it’s hitting on me? It’d be the only person in this house hitting on me, that’s for sure. Or the only spirit, in any case.
The second reason is, obviously, Warren. Because he did not, as I had hoped, use our close proximity to ravish me during the night.
He most definitely did not approach me with an array of sexy ties he’s worn during press conferences and make a kinky suggestion. At least he didn’t in reality. What he does in my imagination is my business.
Except I didn’t pack Victor the vibrator and now my imagination is frustrated. And I couldn’t even go for another jog this morning because I didn’t pack my running shoes. And also because I’m lazy.
The point being, I’m a little wound up and I need to relax. Everything on my e-reader is full of sex. Well, that might be overstating it, but it’s all romance—slow burn, instalove, historical, marriages of convenience, enemies-to-lovers. Every single one of them is about kissing.
That’s not going to help anything.
So I went old-school and grabbed an actual physical book from one of the governor’s many, many bookshelves. I don’t actually know what it’s about since its old leather cover’s been beaten to death, and letters that were once gilded gold have now faded to complete unreadableness. But I’m confident that whatever it is, it won’t be about sex or kissing or even unrequited lust, and will thus keep my mind firmly off of Warren.
But as soon as I’ve settled in under the covers Gary strolls in and leaps onto my bed. Warren made a big deal about animals not being allowed on the