My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 Harlow James (scary books to read txt) 📖

punished. And I think you just clarified that this conversation needs to be over.” I step away from him as my body hums with nerves—both of the frustrated and aroused variety.

He stands there, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath that passes through his lips, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. And part of me wishes I could tell what he’s thinking—but then the other part of me probably knows.

Why is this happening? This lust bouncing between us, this hot and cold that seems to be the norm since we got married and had to learn to compromise, so we both got what we wanted out of this. Hayes has never been a man I’ve given a thought to in a romantic way, and I definitely wouldn’t classify what’s going on between us right now as romantic.

But it sure is sexually charged, and that is a problem in itself.

“I think you’re right,” he finally says, clearing his throat, but still standing in the same spot.

“Not to sound entirely self-centered, but that little—whatever that was—that doesn’t change your decision about giving me the design of Midnight Cowboy, does it?”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes as he reaches up and drags one of his hands through his hair. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Good.”

“But I don’t know if I should be working with a designer that can’t put the caps back on her pens.”

I place my hands on my hips. “Well, I’m not sure I can work for a boss that doesn’t know how to close a cupboard,” I fire back.

And then he chuckles, shaking his head once more as he heads for the staircase. “We’re going to kill each other before this six months is up, aren’t we Beaverly?”

“If you keep calling me Beaverly, we will,” I call after him.

“I can feel the love, Beaverly.” He turns his head over his shoulder and winks at me before disappearing up the stairs.

“Bite me, Hayes!”

“Just tell me where, sweetheart!”

Chapter 8

Hayes

It’s been two weeks since Waverly ambushed me with her own design of Midnight Cowboy, but I don’t regret hiring her for a second. The woman may infuriate me multiple times a day, and her hair is fucking everywhere (I don’t understand that), but she definitely put Abigail’s design to shame, and for that, I can’t deny that the decision to give her a shot was the right one. And now I can help her achieve her goals in her career without outright finding a job for her.

I never really gave a thought about what Waverly wanted for her future while we were growing up. She was more of a nuisance that I tried to avoid so I could spend time with Wes. But now that I know her better and I feel an overwhelming responsibility toward her given our situation, my desire to see her succeed is stronger than I anticipated.

That night when I came home and saw her at my table, pencil behind her ear and pen in her mouth—well, the sight wrapped around my heart somehow and squeezed the ever-loving shit out of it. It also created visions of her mouth wrapped around my cock, but that’s practically normal at this point.

It was along the same lines of the feelings that hit me when she traveled with me to Vegas just a few days before that. Suddenly and completely unexpectedly, Waverly has burrowed a hole in my world, and is leaving her imprint on it and everything she touches.

I’ve been alone my entire adult life, never investing time and energy into a relationship because I never felt the desire to. The last thing I ever anticipated was getting married, let alone to my best friend’s little sister, and yet somehow, having her around now has made me realize how alone I’ve been, even though she’s the last person I thought would bring me out of my solitude. But I still don’t know that I’m capable of being that man—the one who puts someone before themselves, the one that allows himself to be vulnerable because the right person allows him to, the one who thinks about his woman’s happiness so much that is becomes more important than his own.

When I came home that night, my brain and heart accepted that I like having her to come home to. It’s why I couldn’t stop staring at her, adding even more confusion on to how she made me feel after we traveled to Vegas.

It was like I was looking at a mirage, waiting for it to disappear and my mind to snap back to reality—the reality being that my house was empty and quiet again. But she’s still here, and believe me, after just a little over a month of living together now, I’m completely aware that she’s in my house.

First of all, the hair—as I said, it’s fucking everywhere. I found a strand on the banister the other day and almost peed my pants when I touched it. My completely justifiable fear of spiders is being tested every time I come in contact with her bright blonde strands.

Second, the pens—what kind of animal leaves the caps off of their pens when they’re not writing with them? She claims it’s so she can write the second she picks them up, but then I caught her sticking a pen in her mouth the other day like I found her that day at my table. But she put the wrong end in this time. The way her face scrunched up had me laughing, but she just flipped it around, stuck the cap in between her teeth, and got right back to work. I nearly vomited.

Third, the woman smells phenomenal. I snuck into her bathroom the other day, looking to see if I could locate her perfume, but I came up empty-handed. It was only after I scoured her shower that I located the smell that has been a beacon to me the second I walk into my house—her