Never Say I Love You by Pennza Amy

Author:Pennza, Amy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribble Pretty Books
Published: 2018-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

12

Ashley woke to the smell of food cooking. She sat up and stretched her arms above her head. Several vertebrae in her back cracked like popcorn in a microwave. The sky outside the window was dark. Panic shot through her. How long had she slept? The clock read seven thirty. There was no sign of Deuce. The bedroom door was closed.

Had Smith seen her sleeping? Ugh. She tossed back the covers and headed for the bathroom. She used the toilet, then studied her reflection in the mirror. Her hair had dried curly like it always did when she couldn’t tame it into submission with a hairdryer and round brush. She finger-combed it over her shoulders. Not bad. If she squinted and angled her head sideways, the style could pass for “beachy waves.” At least her color was less corpse-like. Even better, the dizziness was gone. She felt the back of her head. The knot was smaller but still tender around the edges.

More food smells wafted through the closed bathroom door. Her stomach growled.

She looked at the offending organ in the mirror, then lifted her gaze to her chest.

Her braless chest. The t-shirt Smith had given her was thick, but there was no hiding her curves. Her jeans and tube top still sat on the sink. She touched the tube top. It would give her a little support…

“You showed up with your tits falling out of your top.” Dean’s voice in her head was loud and ugly.

She lifted the tube top. The smell of garlic drifted over her, and she dropped it back onto the counter.

No way. No way could she stand having a reminder of Dean next to her skin.

The muffled clink of pots and pans sounded from somewhere downstairs.

She gazed into the mirror and lifted her chin. Fuck you, Dean Lacy. She’d march down the street topless if it suited her. “Asshole,” she told the mirror, then she hitched her borrowed sweats higher on her hips and left the bathroom.

It wasn’t hard to find the kitchen. Whatever Smith was cooking, it smelled amazing. She followed the scent downstairs, past the sitting room, and down a long hallway that opened into a spacious kitchen with white cabinets and stainless-steel appliances. Smith stood at the stove with his back to her. A large island topped by a thick slab of veined granite separated them. The stove’s hood was one of those fancy wall-mounted units that looked like the awning over a French bakery. There was also a retractable pot filler. In a breakfast nook off to the right, a gleaming black farmhouse table made a sharp contrast to the otherwise all-white kitchen. She’d attended enough Hollywood parties to know the kitchen was top of the line.

As if he’d sensed her presence, Smith turned around, a wooden spoon in his hand. He wore jeans, a tight, gray t-shirt, and a white bistro apron tied around his waist.

Dear Lord. She opened her mouth. Or maybe it fell open.

He set the spoon down and rounded the island, concern stamped all over his face.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.