Lords of Summer: A contemporary reverse harem romance (Year of the Harem Book 1) by Kayla Wren

Author:Kayla Wren [Wren, Kayla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Cherry Publishing
Published: 2020-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Get your shit. We’re leaving in ninety seconds.”

I blink up at Nate from the pool house floor. The skirt of my maid uniform is soaked and clingy from kneeling to scrub the tiles, and wisps of hair are standing straight up from my ponytail.

“I—what?” I flatten my escaped hairs with a sweaty forearm. “I’m working, Nate.”

Plus, we’ve barely spoken for the last week. I’m sure he forgot I exist.

Nate’s eyes flick over my bucket and sponge, and the hard-bristle brush I’ve been working on the grout with.

“Yeah, no shit. This is work too. Sixty seconds, Layla Maid, let’s go.”

He strides out the door before I can argue. I could be stubborn, stay here just to piss him off, but honestly anything sounds better than scraping mold from between pool tiles. I lurch to my feet, knees pulsing as the blood flows back, and toss my brush into the bucket.

Field trip it is.

“Did you take a fucking nap?”

I slide into the passenger seat of Nate’s car, only slightly out of breath, and roll my eyes. Every word Nate Becker says is halfway to a snarl and paired with constantly drumming fingertips.

“I had to change, ass hat.”

The cruel slash of his mouth quirks into a grin. It’s kind of funny—the ruder you are to Nate, the happier he gets.

He throws the car into gear and peels out of the driveway fast enough to spin the tires in the gravel. I keep my face blank, casually gripping the door handle like I regularly go for drives with fucking maniacs. He sneaks glances at me, the twitch in the mirrors giving him away.

I turn in my seat and face him straight on, eyebrow raised.

He grins harder.

“You always take your maids on day trips?”

Nate’s father is a global sports star—a race car driver. Nate can easily keep up with the other Birchwood boys’ old money. This car must be some kind of tribute, with its glossy red paint and lowered tires.

I’m not the best judge. I’d take my Toyota any day.

“Maybe I would if they were all as fucking mouthy as you.”

He pushes the gear stick up a notch, his hold on it relaxed, tender. Nate drives with his whole body, leaning back and forth and stroking the steering wheel when he’s thinking. My eyes snag on the thigh next to mine, strong and toned beneath his soft black jeans.

“Put your tongue away, Layla. I’m trying to drive.”

For a moment, I forget that we’re employer and maid. I forget that I’ve spent the last week avoiding him, that I resolved to blend into the wallpaper.

“Get fucked, Becker.” My punch doesn’t budge his muscled arm, though it cracks my knuckles.

Nate tuts, shaking his head, but his eyes glitter as they watch the road.

“If only it were that fucking easy.”

The coast road bleeds into farmland, the mansions turning to barns. We watch the scenery blur past, falling into a comfortable silence as Nate drives. He flicks the radio on, rolling down his window and singing along in a surprisingly rich tenor.

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