The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(55)

I kiss his chest beneath me.

It was.

I smile sleepily in his arms, cradled in his warmth, and the key sounds in the door.

Oh crap, it’s Basil.

“Fuck,” Christopher whispers. “What’s he doing home so early?”

I sit up and grab both of our pajamas from the floor and get back under the covers just as the door opens.

“Hey,” Basil says casually as he walks in. He doesn’t even look down at us.

“Hi,” we both reply. My heart is still racing.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today.” He begins to chat away, and we lie and listen, but with every word he says, I can feel Christopher pull away, although I’m not sure if it’s Basil or me that he’s trying to escape.

“I’m having a shower,” Basil eventually says.

The minute the door closes, Christopher dives out of bed and pulls his boxer shorts on. “Get dressed,” he whispers as he throws my pajamas at me. “Quick. He can’t know.”

I frown. Huh?

Why can’t he know?

“I’m going to take a quick shower.” He rushes out of the room, and I stare at the back of the door, dumbfounded.

We’ve been dancing around this for months. Why can’t Basil know? I would have thought that this was something worth screaming out to the world.

Maybe not.

I get dressed and go to the bathroom, and with every minute that passes, a sense of dread creeps in. Does he regret it? He’s not acting like I thought he would.

This could be one big disaster.

I come back to the room to find Christopher back in my bed. He gives me a soft smile and flicks back the covers.

Relief fills me.

Okay, everything is fine. I’m imagining things that aren’t there.

I crawl in, and he wraps his arm around me, and I put my head onto his chest. He kisses my temple as he holds me close. “Good night, my sexy Grumps.”

I trail my fingers through the scattering of his dark chest hair. It feels so good to finally be able to touch him like this. “Good night.”

He puts his mouth to my ear and whispers, “You give great head.”

I smile into the darkness. Crisis averted. The closeness between us is back.

Basil comes back into the room and begins to talk. He goes on and on and on and tells us every little detail of his day, like he does every night.

We lie in silence and listen. “Has anyone ever told you that you have verbal diarrhea?” Christopher asks him.

I poke Christopher in the ribs.

“No, why? What’s that?” Basil replies without a clue.

I poke Christopher again. “Don’t,” I whisper.

“Just a bug that’s going around,” Christopher lies.

“I hope I don’t catch it,” Basil replies. “It doesn’t sound good at all.”

“I guarantee that if you keep your mouth shut, you won’t,” Christopher mutters dryly.

“Good idea,” Basil replies as he climbs into bed.

I giggle. “Good night, Baz.”



“Grumps,” a voice whispers.

I drag my eyes open to see Christopher fully dressed and leaning over my bed. “What’s wrong?” I frown.

“I have to go.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

My eyes fly open. “What?”

“I have to sign some paperwork with my brothers.”

What the hell?

I sit up and rub my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“There’s paperwork concerning my parents’ estate, and I need to sign along with my brothers on the same day.”

I blink.

He didn’t mention this at all yesterday.

“When will you be back?” I frown.

“A few days.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“No,” he replies, way too fast. He kisses me quickly on the lips. “You have fun here. Go to Portugal with the others.”

I think for a second. “Actually, I’ll stay here and work for the week. Maria is off sick, and they offered me her shifts.” I glance over, and his full backpack is packed by the door. “Just leave your backpack here with me.”

“It’s fine.”

My eyes search his. He’s not coming back.

“I’m fine,” he snaps.

But I didn’t ask him anything . . . he’s not fine. He’s freaking out.

“Okay?” He smiles. “We good?” He nods as if trying to convince himself. “Okay? Everything’s all right.” He’s tripping over his words and stands in a rush.

I get out of bed and watch him. He’s fussing around and looking everywhere but at me.

“Christopher.”

He keeps putting things in his bag and fiddling with the zipper.

“Christopher,” I say, sterner. “Look at me.”

His eyes rise to mine.

“It’s okay.”

“Yep, it’s sweet.” He nods as if convincing himself. “I know. Totally sweet.”

Sweet is not a word I’ve heard him use. He’s never lied to me before.

“Bye.” He kisses me quickly and picks up his backpack and without looking back rushes out the door.