"I don't think of it as luck or chance, Miss (l/n). The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said, 'The...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He passes me a small teapot of hot water and on the saucer is a Yorkshire teabag. Jeez, he remembers how I like my tea.
"Your hairs very damp," he scolds.
"I couldn't find the hairdryer," I mutter, embarrassed. Not that I looked.
Aaron's mouth presses into a hard line, but he doesn't say anything.
"Thank you for organizing the clothes."
"It's a pleasure, (y/n). That colour suits you."
I blush and stare down at my fingers.
"You know, you really should learn to take a compliment." His tone is castigating.
"I should give you some money for these clothes."
He glares at me as if I have offended him on some level. I hurry on.
"You've already given me the books, which, of course, I can't accept. But these clothes, please let me pay you back." I smile tentatively at him.
"(y/n), trust me, I can afford it."
"That's not the point. Why should you buy these for me?"
"Because I can," his eyes flash with a wicked gleam.
"Just because you can doesn't mean that you should," I reply quietly as he arches an eyebrow at me, his eyes twinkling, and suddenly I feel that we're talking about something else, but I don't know what it is. Which reminds me...
"Why did you send me the books, Aaron?" My voice is soft. He puts down his cutlery and regards me intently, his brown eyes burning with some unfathomable emotion. Holy crap – my mouth dries.
"Well, when you were nearly run over by the cyclist – and I was holding you and you were looking up at me – all kiss me, kiss me, Aaron," he pauses and shrugs slightly, "I felt I owed you an apology and a warning." He runs his hand through his hair. "(y/n), I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of man, I don't do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear from me." He closes his eyes as if in defeat. "There's something about you, though, and I'm finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you've figured that out already."
My appetite vanishes. He can't stay away!
"Then don't," I whisper.
He gasps, his eyes wide.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"Enlighten me, then."
We sit gazing at each other, neither of us touching our food.
"You're not celibate then?" I breathe.
Amusement lights up his brown eyes.
"No, (y/n), I'm not celibate." He pauses for this information to sink in, and I flush scarlet. The mouth-to-brain filter is broken again. I can't believe I've just said that out loud.
