Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Niko

"Thank you for telling me about the book," I say to Chloe as I collapse onto the couch after tucking Ayana in. I would bet my bonus money that Peyton threw it in the trash in a moment of anger. "A new copy should arrive tomorrow." Thank you, Prime.

"You know the two of you are adorable enough to make even the deadest heart swoon, right?" she responds from her spot in the recliner where a book rests on the pillow in her lap.

Since I am not sure what she means, I ask, "What are you reading?"

She holds the book up for me, and I read the title aloud, " Did I Say That Out Loud? What kind of book is this?" The cover has a broken fork with a deranged face drawn on it. I cannot imagine any situation that would compel me to read such a strange book.

Chloe rests it back on the pillow and tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear. She is wearing another of her tops that ties behind her neck, although this one is more modest than some of her others. And she has paired it with a denim skirt that shows off her legs. Thankfully, the pillow shields much of her from my view. "It's the kind of book that reassures me I'm not crazy." She tilts her head and adds, "At least I'm not the only one."

"Why would you think you are crazy?"

She grins and shakes her head. "I'm not. At least I hope not." She chuckles at the look on my face. "It's just a book about getting older. You know, all the joys."

"Ah." I nod. "Yes. I will be lucky if I make it through next season without requiring a hip replacement." As if I need a reminder, my hip cracks when I shift positions to retrieve my phone from my shorts pocket. My body is exhausted from these practices with Mac and Cappy. I push myself to outperform them even though they are a decade younger than I am and their bodies have not begun to betray them yet. I refuse to show weakness when the team is counting on me to whip them into shape in these short months before I retire.

"Wow. And I thought I was feeling old. I could hear that crack from over here, Grandpa."

I frown at her, which only makes her laugh. Once again, the sound fills me with a lightness I do not often enjoy. Goosebumps sprout on my arms and I wonder for a second if Chloe somehow caused them.

"Is it cold in here?" I ask. Perhaps I am the crazy one. Should it concern me that I have been asking myself that question regularly since Chloe came to stay? Probably.

But Chloe's expression catches my attention. She looks . . . guilty.

"Oh. Um. I may have turned the air conditioning up a tad."

I get to my feet and pad over to the thermostat on the wall. "Sixty-six degrees?!" I turn back to see Chloe throw the book and pillow aside.

"I get hot sometimes, okay?" She crosses her arms over her chest in defiance, and it props her magnificent breasts up. I try to avert my eyes but fail.

"Is the Short People clan from Alaska?"

"We've been known to visit," she instantly bites back, and something about her obstinate attitude and the seriousness in her tone makes me grin.

Her eyes narrow, which only widens my grin until she finally lets out an exasperated sigh, breaking eye contact and muttering something under her breath about god being so unfair.

It makes little sense to me, so I do not comment, instead returning to the couch and grabbing a throw blanket on my way.

"Oh my god, just turn the air back down, will you?"

"No. I am fine with a blanket." I begin thumbing out a response to an email from Joe, my agent. He is working on an endorsement deal for me.

" Nikolai ," Chloe says. There is that exasperation again. "I promise I'll live."

"And so will I. Please, read your book, Chloe. I am going to send some emails." I pull the blanket up to cover my torso until I am quite cozy.

"It's your house, not to mention your electricity bill."

I don't look up from my phone. "And while you are staying here, it is your house too."

If I am not mistaken, she growls in response and then she is striding across the room toward the thermostat. I am too quick for her, jumping to my feet and intercepting her with an arm around her waist. When I open my mouth to speak, I realize our faces are closer than I intended—only inches apart. My voice drops to almost a whisper as I feel her soft breath against my cheek and witness the fire in her eyes. "Why do you insist on arguing with me? Can I not do something nice? Something as simple as wearing a blanket so you can be comfortable?"

Her defiant expression drops at my question and her lips part as her eyes widen—as if she has been struck with a realization. Every bit of fight has fled.

"I..." she starts to speak, and my eyes drop to her plump lips. Fuck. Would one kiss really be all that horrible? "I'm not"—her breathing picks up, and my cock responds in his usual manner—"used to people putting me first."

As her words register in my distracted brain, my arm drops from around her and my spine straightens, creating some distance between us. I fear for a second that Chloe might collapse, but she quickly secures her stance.

"Chloe," I begin, my voice coming out hoarse for some reason. But she cuts me off.

"No. That's not...I didn't mean..." She shakes her head and forces a smile. "That came out wrong. It's totally fine."

My molars grind together as I watch her try to dismiss her own feelings. But I heard the vulnerability in her voice and saw the surprise on her face. As if it never occurred to her that she deserves even casual kindness. But she is so confident and self-assured. Is she not?

Maybe I have not been paying attention. All this time, I assumed Chloe was indestructible, able to easily handle any obstacle that came her way—cheerfully face any adversity and vanquish it with her positivity. It never occurred to me that her fortitude may have grown from necessity rather than choice. It is clear there is much more to this woman than I imagined, and my frustration at knowing I do not have the right to explore those depths sets my molars grinding harder.

"It is not fine, Chloe." The words feel like gravel in my mouth, and my tone clearly shows it, if her wide eyes are any indication. "You, of all people, deserve to be put first." As I say the words, I realize more than ever that I have taken advantage of her kindness, something I am apparently not the first one to do. I am the king of all assholes.

She tries to wave me off, but I do not allow it. I take both of her hands in mine and stare into her stunning blue eyes, eyes that could make a man fall to his knees. "You are so kind and generous and...selfless. I am sorry I have taken advantage of your thoughtful nature."

Her head shake is vehement. "No, Nikolai. I'm so happy to help. I love spending time with Ayana. Truly."

I believe her—because it is who she is. But that does not mean she does not deserve more. Better. Chloe Cooper deserves the best of everything. And I may not be the man who can give her everything, but I can certainly give her more than I have been.

She shrugs, breaking our eye contact. "And, hey, you're giving me a free place to stay while those contractors take their sweet-ass time with my duplex."

"Chloe." We both know her father would be more than happy to have her.

But before I can say anything else, she brushes by me with a smile that feels only slightly less forced. "I'm gonna go take a shower and head to bed. You should turn the air back down. The shower will get me plenty cool." She practically sprints from the room and down the hall to her bathroom. The door closes with a thud, and I am left standing alone—and cold—in the living room.

I exhale loudly and scrub a hand through my hair. It is time Chloe Cooper learned what it is like to be appreciated—no, revered —for who she is. My stomach churns at the mental image of that Tanner guy kissing her on my porch. He walked her to the door, which says good things about him, and he obviously likes Chloe, which means he is not a moron. And she likes him too. There is no way she would kiss a man she did not like. Or would she? Now I am uncertain of so many things.

Jaw locked tight, I go to the hall closet and pull out two thick blankets. I take one to Ayana's room, stepping quietly across the plush carpet to cover her with it. She is fast asleep, her mouth slightly ajar and her long hair in a mess around her face and pillow. The sight has some of the tension draining from my body. "Sleep well, my little bunny," I whisper before withdrawing from the room.

I stalk to my own room and toss the other blanket on the bed with more force than necessary. Mind still racing with thoughts of Chloe, I strip off my shirt—almost tearing it in the process—and tug on some flannel pajama pants I normally reserve for winter. Then I stalk right back out to the living room to change the thermostat to sixty-four. No! Sixty-three. Whatever she wants.

But before I can, a blood-curdling scream rips through the air from the other hall and has my stomach dropping to the floor. I run on leaden feet to the guest bathroom and fling the door open without a single thought. My mind is solely focused on the terror in that scream and the horrifying notion of anything harming Chloe.

The ensuing scream has an entirely different tone as a completely bare-naked Chloe spins around to face me, shock stamped on her face as her hands futilely attempt to hide all those glorious curves.

Well, that did not go as expected.