He handed me the glass without asking if I wanted it.
I took it. The robe was still damp against my skin. I hadn’t bothered to find my clothes. Part of me wanted him to keep looking.
“You been doing this long?” he asked. “House-sitting.”
“A year. It’s easy money when people leave.”
“And when they don’t.”
I looked up. He was leaning against the counter, arms folded, watching me over the rim of his own glass.
“They left,” I said. “You said they sent you.”
“They did.” He set the glass down. “Doesn’t mean I expected the sitter to be half-naked in the pool touching herself for a boy who texts like that.”
Heat crawled up my neck.
“He’s not a boy.”
Caleb’s mouth almost smiled.
“He’s Miles.”
The way he said the name again made something twist low in my stomach. Not jealousy. Something
