Page 78 of Burn

“Holy shit.” Scarlet steps over a trail of broken vases and tile. “He had to have been high on something.”

No shit. Though I’m not sure because I’m looking at probably four bottles of tequila and what looks to be a once standing tower of Coors Light beer cans. Now it slightly resembles a bounce house of tin cans.

I’m sick to my stomach. Putting my hand against the wall, I attempt to catch my breath and not hyperventilate. Scar may need to call Caleb after all.

As we’re leaving the room, I’m on my phone trying to find a contractor to fix this shit, today, and Scarlet’s babbling about needing his number to check on him. Surely he needs a girl he’s never fucking met aside from handing him a condom to comfort him in his time of destructing mourning, right?

Yeah, right.

Tom finds us on the tenth floor and enters the elevator.

I can tell by the look on his face, the smirking boyish, playful side of him has something to say. While I usually find this version of Tom entertaining, I’m not in the mood for him.

It doesn’t stop him though. He relaxes, leaning casually into the side of the elevator next to me. “Hey Mila, I found a condom wrapper on the floor in the janitor’s closet. Wonder where it came from.”

Still on the phone, I put my hand over it and say the only thing that comes to mind. “Shut up, Tom. You’re living with a homeless man.”

I’m not very good at comebacks.

Tom frowns. “How’s he homeless if he’s living with me? And you’re sleeping on her couch.” He points to Scarlet, who’s looking rather disappointed and staring at the numbers on the wall as we make our way to the second floor.

He has a point, damn it.

Smiling, he adds, “And it has nothing to do with the condom wrapper or the dirty fucking that took place in there.”

I don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone and realize I’m in an elevator and lost service. Slipping my phone away, I put my hand over Tom’s mouth. “Stop. Talking.”

He grins and licks my hand.

I rip it off his face and slide the Tom-spit off by running my hand over my pants. “You haveno ideawhere my hand has been this morning, and you just licked it.”

He does this thing where he gives me a nod, a cocky yet kinda sexy one and then dips his head forward, shoulders shrugging. “And honey, you haveno ideawhere my tongue’s been today.”

He’s absolutely right. I’m sick to my stomach for the second time today.

I manage to get the contractors up to the penthouse suite and cleaning up, but that’s about all I get accomplished. Mostly because every minute of the day my thoughts keep slipping back to last night and Caleb.

There’s a good part of me that thinks maybe I won’t hear from Caleb again. I don’t even have his phone number. He doesn’t have mine.

But he knows where I work so when he shows up around nine the next morning, I’m ecstatic with those same tummy tickles again.

I smile, trying not to appear too eager but it’s probably pretty fucking obvious. “Do you ever work?”

Caleb leans into the counter in the lobby, glances at Heather, then me. “I just got off,” his voice lowers to a whisper, and he motions me forward with one finger. Instinctively, I go, my tits pressed to the granite counter. He looks, naturally, then lifts those smoldering eyes to mine. “Now it’s time to get you off.”

Well, when he puts it like that, who am I to deny him?

Heather clears her throat. “Mila, I need you.”

Stupid bitch. She does not.

Without missing a beat, I turn to her. “Yeah, what do you need?”

She points to the guest in front of her. Darting my stare to Caleb, he remains at the end of the counter, watching me. I’m nervous. It’s hard to focus on work with him here, and I know I need to.

Swallowing slowly, I smile at the guests in front of her. “Good morning.”

By their tight smiles, Heather’s done something to piss them off.

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