39. Mira

39

MIRA

It was easier to believe in this plan back when I was in the dressing room, tipsy on free champagne while Taylor was hyping me up.

"He's going to fall to the ground and worship at your very expensive heels." She tied the straps of the sundress into bows on top of my shoulders and cinched in the corseted waist until I could barely breathe. The entire time, she was grinning over my shoulder like the little hellspawn she is.

I was high on shopping spree hormones and revenge fantasies. It sounded plausible. It could work.

Now, I'm tired from being on my feet all day and nauseous at the thought of walking back into the condo in this dress.

What if Zane actually decided to fire me while I was gone? I'm going to waltz in there wearing the proof that I just blew half of the money I had in my account and then he's going to cut my financial security off at the knees.

This will forever be the dress I was wearing when I threw away the only break the universe has ever felt inclined to toss my way.

"He isn't going to fire you," I whisper, trying to channel some of Taylor's mojo.

I take a deep breath and push through the door.

The smell of sauteing onion and garlic hits me first. Then the sound of Aiden's laughter almost knocks me over.

He's standing at the counter, Zane just behind him, and they're piling a mish-mash of ingredients into a massive tortilla. Zane is holding Aiden by the wrists, controlling his movements like he's a puppet, and Aiden has never thought anything is as funny as this. He's laughing so hard he can barely catch his breath.

"Aiden, what are you doing?!" Zane sounds horrified. "That's way too many onions on my burrito! I don't want that many! Aiden, stoooop!"

Aiden—still controlled by Zane—adds a fistful of onions to Zane's plate and sags back against his dad's chest in a fit of giggles.

Taylor armored me up and sent me in here to be a stone-cold bitch, but good fathers are my Achilles' heel, apparently. Because something in my chest is going soft and gooey at the sight of the Whitaker boys together.

They both look up when the front door clicks closed.

God, they're identical. Same messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Irresistible.

I promised myself I'd march into the condo with my head held high and go straight to my room, but I can't blow past Aiden without a smile, at least. And I am kind of hungry.

I can still be annoyed with Zane, if only because he probably planned this. He thought he'd soften me up by cooking dinner and forming core memories with his adorable son.

That absolute monster.

"Hi." I raise my hand in a wave, shopping bags sliding down my arms.

Zane still looks a little pale, but I'm not worried he's going to hurl at any second. I'd call that an improvement.

He doesn't say anything, but his eyes take a slow trip down my body. I'm having flashbacks to the night of the team party.

You are the single most gorgeous creature I've ever seen.

I'm no expert, but those don't sound like the words of a man who has no interest in me. They sound like the words of a man who thinks I'm the single most gorgeous creature he's ever seen. But again, what do I know?

Not what Zane Whitaker wants, that's for sure. He, as always, remains a mystery.

Aiden, on the other hand, gasps. "You look like a princess!"

No foggy ulterior motives or mysterious feelings there, that's for sure. Just compliments and the sweetest, most earnest little smile I've ever seen.

Men of the world, take notes. A four-year-old is running laps around all of you.

"You're so sweet, A. Thank you." I toss him a wink and he scrambles down from the counter.

"Are you dressing up?" He shoves both hands into my bag before I can stop him. "You need a crown."

Dresses go flying over his shoulders before I can stop him.

"Whoa, cowboy. Hold on." Zane hustles out of the kitchen and scoops Aiden up, tucking him under his arm like a yoga mat. "You should always ask before you go digging through a princess's bags."

So, maybe Zane isn't a total monster. I need someone to send me a man with Aiden's honesty and Zane's manners… and Zane's face and body and dexterity of tongue. Is that so much to ask?

Aiden giggles as Zane pokes his side. Then he wiggles free and runs back into the kitchen to keep making burritos.

"Sorry," Zane mumbles, bending down to pick up the thousands of dollars' worth of fabric now scattered across the floor.

"For what?" I ask before I can stop myself.

He freezes for just a second—barely long enough to notice—before he carries on like I didn't say anything. When he picks up a black minidress with side panel cutouts, he holds it out to me. "This one's a little fancy for the park."

"You're the one who banned sundresses."

Zane frowns. "You bought these because of me?"

"What? No!" I answer so fast that I choke on my spit and cough. "It was a joke. I just needed some new date night outfits."

But, I add silently, If you're feeling any kind of deep longing or regret, that is merely an unintended (read as: completely intentional) consequence.

He snatches the last dress off the floor like he wants to shove it in the garbage disposal. Instead, he hands it to me. Our fingers brush over the satin strap, and I don't know who I'm kidding—I want Zane to see me in these dresses. The entire time I was trying them on, all I could think about was the way he'd react when I wore them.

I didn't go shopping today for future, hypothetical dates.

I went shopping for seduction.

His bright blue eyes hold mine, and I turn into every hopelessly devoted girl from every sappy movie.

If he asked me for forgiveness right now, I'd give it to him.

I'd also give him a whole lot more than forgiveness.

Somewhere in the back of my psyche, Taylor is screaming at me to grow a backbone, but I can't. It's long gone. It melted in the heat pooling inside of me.

"I used all the onions!" Aiden proudly announces from the kitchen.

Zane and I jump apart like a bomb just went off between us and we're the shrapnel.

He drags a hand through his hair and turns towards Aiden and the kitchen. I take the opportunity to all but sprint down the hallway. I need a locked door between us and at least twelve hours to cool down before I see Zane again.

I don't care about him in particular; I'm just horny and way too close to the pheromones that are pumping out of his pores like fog at a music festival.

I need space .

I'm almost to my door when I hear footsteps behind me.

"Mira," Zane calls. "Wait."

Yes . I don't know what the question is, but I already know the answer my weak, mushy heart is going to give.

I blow out a breath and turn to face him. "Yeah?"

I'm prepared for him to apologize for bailing on me last night. Or to explain why he was drinking, at least.

Some desperate part of me is also ready for him to confess that he wants something to happen between us. I was lying earlier. Of course I want you, Mira. I've always wanted you.

"You can have tomorrow off, too," he says instead.

"That's not necessary. Today was repayment enough."

"It's not—" He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I just don't need you to be here tomorrow. Aiden has a psychologist appointment before he starts preschool. The waitlist was massive, but they had a cancellation. I jumped on it."

Ah. Right. It's about Aiden.

It's always going to be about Aiden.

I give him an embarrassing thumbs-up. "Sounds good."

"We'll be gone all day, so you have time to get out of the city if you need to see family or something."

"I don't have any family to see," I say before I can stop myself.

His expression veers towards something alarmingly like sympathy. And this—this right here—is why I didn't answer his questions when he wanted to get to know me. The look on his face right now is why I'd rather he think I poofed onto the planet fully formed rather than know a single scrap of information about my hideously grim past.

"Thanks for the heads up," I say quickly, backing up. "Good luck at the appointment."

Zane is still standing in the hallway when I close and lock my door.