Groomed For Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Flora Ferrari (best books for 8th graders .TXT) 📖

“I’m sorry, Parker,” I tell him before I go back to bed without him. “Sorry for overreacting, I mean.”

He smiles and tells me not to worry, reminding me I’ve had more than enough trauma for one day, that he doesn’t hold it against me and he’s glad I’m staying.

“Moose would be lost without you around too, by the way,” he adds before I walk like a zombie back to bed, and curling up to Moose beside me falling asleep instantly.

The sound of my phone ringing wakes me at the same time the smell of food cooking reaches my nostrils.

The door’s ajar and once I wake up Moose by fishing for my phone which is somehow by the bed now, he lets himself out once he knows he’s done his job of watching over me.

It’s Chet calling, and although not a great time, I pick up.

He is my brother after all and he’s not in the habit of just calling to say hi.

Something must be up.

Turns out he just caught a news story about some city folk claiming they saw an off-duty cop disarm a mugger as he walked his dog from a dog salon with a girl who looks just like me.

Plot twist? He didn’t arrest the mugger, but gave him fifty bucks and told him to go buy a meal.

“Sound like something you’d be mixed up in sis?” he asks me point-blank.

For the first time in his life though, he actually sounds concerned, which worries me more than anything.

“Oh fine,” I tell him. “Yeah there was some trouble, but I’m okay, Chet,” I tell him.

Out of a job and nowhere to live officially, but I’m fine.

“Where are you?” he groans. “I’ll come get you or wire you money for a bus ticket home. I told you it wouldn’t work out in the city. Just come on home, Naomi. Now,” he adds, his voice grinding a little, like it always does when he starts bossing me around.

Also, the main reason I’d never go home and the only reason I left in the first place is Chet and his attitude.

“I’m not coming home, Chet.” I remind him and for once in my life feel good about standing my ground with him, sick of feeling like I owe him something or even anything.

I get another wave of cooking, and my stomach growls loudly.

“Uh, is everything okay with you?” I ask out of politeness. “Because I have to go,” I tell him honestly.

“I’m fine, Naomi. I just wish you’d grow up and come back home. Where you belong,” he says again, sounding like a man who needs to go get a life instead of controlling mine.

“I’ll call you in a day or two, Chet,” I lie. “Just really gotta run now, but I’m fine. No need to worry.”

Before he can say anything else, I hang up and feel instant relief before I power down my phone for good measure.

I can’t believe I let him tell me what to do for so many years, mostly because I just never knew any better. Never even had the chance to make my own way in the world.

He’s my brother, sure. But he’s not my keeper.

There’s a soft knock on the door and I can see Parker’s huge frame waiting patiently like he’s a guest in his own damned house.

“You can come in,” I remind him. “It’s your house.”

I don’t mean to sound curt, but my brother kind of has that effect on everyone he talks to, me most of all.

Parker makes an embarrassed face as he pokes it around the door. “Just wondered if you felt like eating?” he says meekly.

I have to smile, almost laugh really. He looks so sheepish like he’s really intruding.

“I’m starving,” I confess, but let him know I need the bathroom too.

“To freshen up, I mean,” I add. Trying to sound sophisticated, not gross like I feel.

“There’s a bathroom by the back door,” he says with a grin. A grin I find a little suspicious as he returns innocently to the kitchen.

Moose is on a mat in the kitchen I can tell is just for him, keeping an eye on things and no doubt waiting for his share of whatever delicious things I can smell cooking.

But once I find the bathroom tucked away by the back door, a different smell hits me.

Then I see all the candles and rose petals once I open the door.

The huge antique tub is steaming in the center of a black and white tiled, old-school bathroom. Real brass taps and pipes gleam through the candlelit steam, infused with a scent that only reminds me of Parker.

Woodsy, a little sweet but more spice and freshness than anything.

“It’s just beautiful,” I hear myself exclaiming, eventually turning to see Parker with his eyes fixed on me, scanning me again from head to toe.

“It sure is,” he sighs to himself before asking which I want first, bath or dinner?

I hadn’t realized I’d slept late enough for either and I really can’t decide on the spot.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says finally, tearing himself away from me to give me some privacy.

“There’s plenty of everything, and it’ll stay hot for a while, so take your time,” he calls over his shoulder, and then I hear him asking Moose if he wants something.

Moose barks loudly and I can hear Parker getting his partner’s dinner ready too as I decide a soak in the tub is probably just what the doctor ordered.

I haven’t had a real bath in months.

I mean, there’s the single shower head in my apartment, but I barely even fit under that.

This tub though, the whole bathroom. It’s like something out of a magazine.

Despite all the steam, it’s the perfect temperature for me, liking things a little hotter than most.

In no time, I’ve stripped down to nothing and easing myself into a magical world of deep hot water, bubbles, and that oh so delicious