Page 40 of My Ex's Best Friend

She shakes her head. “I know I said that I don’t need help, but the bathroom is so fricking confusing. I don’t know how to work the hot water and that’s why I was coming in to talk to you. Of course, I had no idea you would be half-naked, although that’s perfectly—”

I put an arm over her shoulder instinctively.

She freezes, her eyes widening.

“Kie, Relax,” I say.

Her mouth drops open, but she doesn’t say anything.

I quickly take the arm off her and say, “I believe you’re not a pervert.”

She makes a face. “That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I say. “Just wait. I’ll come by and help you.”

“Thanks.” She leaves as fast as she came in.

I chuckle as I watch her walk away.

The thought of her exploring the house, her delight at every discovery makes me shiver.

What will she think of this place? Will she catch the little details I’ve put in?

I walk up to her suite.

Kiera is waiting for me on her bed. She points at herself. “And now I’m all wet.”

I try not to blatantly stare at her, but it’s difficult when her top is practically sticking to her.

“I’ll get it all fixed up.” I head into the bathroom. I tinker with the shower nozzle and the taps, and once I’m satisfied, I walk out. “That should be all good.”

“Thanks for your help.”

I leave her to it and head downstairs where I become engrossed in my iPad, scrolling through emails and savoring a leisurely breakfast.

Kiera re-enters the room after her shower. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the rich blend of pastries and fruits wafts through the air.

Glancing up from my device, I catch sight of Kiera, and I find myself catching my breath.

She's clad in a simple yet stylish ensemble – a loose-fitting blouse paired with comfortable black slacks. The colors are subtle, reflecting a blend of sophistication and casual ease. Her hair, now dried and loosely cascading, adds a touch of effortless charm. She looks stunning.

She approaches the breakfast table with a tentative smile, and I can't help but admire how effortlessly she carries herself. The sun light streaming in casts a soft glow on her, accentuating the way her blonde hair falls gracefully around her shoulders.

“Can we please start over?” she says.

“Good morning,” I say.

She looks relieved as she takes a chair. “Good morning. I hope you had an uneventful shower?”

I scratch my nose. “Yeah, pretty much.” Of course, I cannot tell her the obscene thoughts I had about her. I have no doubt that she would quit on the spot.

“So,” she begins. “What’s the agenda for today?”

I take a sip of coffee, considering the day ahead. "I was thinking of heading into the new office, getting things set up. We've got the meeting with the museum executives tomorrow, and I want everything in place."

“Sounds good.”

“You can stay back and start prepping for the meeting."

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