Page 27 of Tempting Miles
“Thanks, Peter. I appreciate it.”
I end the call and let my head fall back against the chair, staring at the ceiling.
“Do you havea minute?”
Miles’ voice startles me, and I nearly jump out of my seat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, flashing me a gorgeous smile that does absolutely nothing to help my fried nerves. The red and blue flannel he had on this morning is gone, leaving him in a white undershirt that clings a little too well to his abs.
My gaze roams his body—completely against my will—from his stomach to his forearms. When I catch sight of veins running along them, I press my lips together, forcing my attention back where it belongs.
“Is it a bad time?” he asks. “I’d say I can come back later, but this is something that needs immediate attention.”
That pulls me out of my lust-induced thoughts. Fast.
“What happened?” I ask, straightening in my chair and pulling myself back into work mode, even if my brain is still playing catch-up.
Miles’s expression shifts, concern flickering across his features. “Are you okay? I can handle this by myself. I just thought you’d want to be looped in.”
Of course he did.
He might be a cocky, smooth talker, but damn, he takes his work seriously—and I can’t fault him for that.
“No, I’m fine,” I say, waving him in. “Come on. Tell me what’s going on.”
He takes the chair across from me and leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. A whiff of his cologne mixed with something distinctly him hits me.
No, scratch that. Slaps me, like a shot on goal.
I feel my clit throbbing.
Focus, Penny.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there’s a snowstorm coming our way. The first one of the season.”
My back presses into the chair, like I just got a punch to the gut. “What? Already?” I glance at my screen. “But it’s only November. The fall festival was just a few days ago.”
“It’s rare, but it happens up here in the mountains,” he says, calm and matter-of-fact.
Before I can respond, he continues. “The company delivering our supplies just called. They couldn’t fulfill this week’s order since their trucks don’t have the proper tires.”
Suddenly, the exhaustion I noticed when he walked in makes sense. I’ve seen him work ten, twelve hours a day for months now, and he always has a smile on his face. For something to rattle him like this—it matters.
“Are there any local construction companies we can get the supplies from until after the storm passes? I don’t want to delay work if we can avoid it.”
His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes darting to the side as something clearly clicks into place.
“You gave me an idea. Thank you, sugar,” he says before pushing out of his chair and disappearing just as quickly as he came in.
I blink, staring at the empty doorway for a second.
Did he just call mesugar?
The last time he used that word, I had my back pressed against a palm tree, his body pressed hard against mine, his voice low and rough in my ear. Heat creeps up my neck at the memory, and I shake my head, refusing to go down that road again.
Before my mind can spiral, I grab my phone and call Gio.
“Hey, you. Are you looking for a place to weather the storm?” he says instead of hello.
