Page 8 of Paxton

“You'll never have to repay me,” he says. “This will be fun. Like in Rome. We practically destroyed that room with the shells we collected from the beach. I'm sure they're still getting sand out of the carpet.”

I laugh at the memory, warmth spreading through me. “One of my favorite summers,” I admit. “And with the way our parents just left us there to do whatever we wanted, you’re right, itwaskind of like living together.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Now we're older and can have more fun.”

I can't stop the smile from shaping my lips as I look up at him. “Well, I'm glad you're excited about this,” I say. “We'll see if you still feel that way after you spend an entire week with me with no breaks.”

“Can't wait,” he says. “How long do you need before we head to your place?”

“An hour?” I ask instead of state the time. I’d like to take a long hot shower before I get my day officially started.

“Sounds good,” he says before moving past me and down the hallway, likely toward his in-home gym. It doesn't matter that it's off-season, Paxton won't let his workout routine slip.

And it takes all of the strength I possess to get ready for work instead of following him around like a lost puppy, grateful to have been rescued.

CHAPTER 3

PAXTON

I’m meetingMonroe at her apartment in an hour, so I take the solo time to get the house cleaned up. I usually keep a pretty tidy place, but I can't resist the urge to recheck everything in the guest bedroom that’s now officially Monroe’s. I want everything to be comfortable for her.

The rest of the house is easy enough to straighten up, but I make a point to head to one of my drop station zones in the entryway, and open the small drawer of the table that rests against the wall.

I easily spot the slightly dusty velvet jewelry box and grab it. I shut the drawer, and pop the lid on the box, looking at the ring I've had since I was sixteen years old. My grandmother gave it to me before she passed, saying it was meant for my future wife. I run my finger over the solitaire diamond set amongst a dozen sapphires, the band itself made of white gold.

I can't help but picture it on Monroe’s hand because she’s the only woman I’ve ever imagined spending the rest of my life with.

I know better than anyone that Monroe doesn't want to get married, and besides that, we've never even hinted at a relationship beyond our deep friendship. I know her reasoning for never getting into serious relationships, and she’s well withinher rights to fear everything that comes with commitment and trust. Her mother’s profession had done that naturally—she’s seen too many people ripped apart by divorce.

I close the box, taking the ring into my room and depositing it in the top drawer of my dresser, moving it to make room in my drop station for Monroe’s keys.

A few hours later, we've made our last trip from Monroe’s apartment to my house. It took several to get all of her stuff, not to mention the side stops to donate the furniture she no longer wanted or needed.

I shuffle the last box inside now, Monroe holding the door open for me, the two of us looking like quite a pair, exhausted yet satisfied with the progress. Tomorrow the cleaners will tackle her apartment and then after that, she'll be free.

She'll officially be living with me until she finds her next suitable place to live.

Luckily, we hadn't run into Liam, but I saw his car in the parking lot. Maybe he’s being smart and listening to my earlier warnings, or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit. Either way, it was a bonus.

“I ordered dinner,” Monroe says after I put another box in her room, this one labeledmassage lotionsthat belongs to her work supply.

“Thanks,” I say. “I'm starving. Do I have time to take a quick shower?”

“Oh, I was going to take one,” she says. “But you can totally go first.”

I laugh. “It's okay, we can take one at the same time.”

Monroe's eyes flare wide, and she visibly swallows, her mouth opening and shutting a few times.

A bolt of heat sears straight down my spine at the way she's looking at me…like she’s seriously contemplating the two of us showering together.

“I havetwoshowers,” I hurry to say, my voice rough.

A heaved breath rushes from her lungs, and she laughs the way she does whenever she finds something awkward or uncomfortable.

Jesus, did she really think I was suggesting she hop in the shower with me?

Wait…she didn't saynoimmediately.

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