Page 9 of The Billionaire's Angel

Cheeks pink with embarrassment, I was ready to flee to the kitchen when Gage said, “Can’tsleep?”

I turned back, shaking my head. “I wake up in the middle of the night a lot and have trouble falling back to sleep.” My curiosity took hold of my tongue, and I asked, “Is that why you’re awake in the middle of the night again? Troublesleeping?”

Gage took a second to answer, a second during which I lectured myself on asking him personal questions. I wasn’t his friend. I worked here. And asking a virtual stranger personal questions wasrude.

I took a step back toward the door, expecting him to dismiss me. He didn’t need to explain why he was up reading in the middle of the night. It was his house. I was anemployee.

When he spoke, Gage’s voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear, the words a vibration in the air I felt more thanheard.

“I haven’t been sleeping much lately…” He trailedoff.

“Trouble falling asleep or staying asleep?” Iasked.

“Both,” he admitted. “I havenightmares.”

My training kicked in, and without thinking I said, “That’s normal, considering what you’ve been through. Did they talk to you before you left the military hospital? Tell you what toexpect?”

Gage’s face shut down, his eyes flicking away and his mouth going hard, that lush lower lip compressing into the top in a thinline.

Shit. None of my business. I took another step back and shook my head inapology.

“I’m sorry, sometimes I forget everyone isn’t a patient. I’ll let you get back to yourbook.”

“Wait,” Gage said, his voice carrying a demand I knew better than toignore.

Men like Gage Winters were used to being obeyed. I’d had enough of obeying men to last me a lifetime, but I worked for his family, and I liked my job. More than that, I realized I wanted to hear what he was going to say next. I fought the urge to give myself another lecture and stopped, turning back to face himagain.

The hard line of his mouth had softened, but those blue eyes were still sharp and on guard. “The tea—does it help?” heasked.

“I don’t really know,” I said. At his raised eyebrow, I explained. “The tea I usually drink when I can’t sleep helps a little. But this is a new one. Amelia ordered it for me off the internet. I have no idea if it’s any good, but I promised her I’d try. Do you want me to make you acup?”

I expected him to refuse. I have no idea why I even offered. I was usually good at watching my words but with Gage my tongue out-ran my brain. Something about him made me speak without thinking. I tried not to remember that speaking without thinking could be dangerous. I was safe here. If Gage ended up being a problem, nothing was stopping me fromleaving.

“I’d love a cup of tea,” Gage said, something warm drifting through his eyes. “Do you need anyhelp?”

“No,” I said, the sound almost a yelp, before fleeing to the familiar comfort of thekitchen.

They say a watched pot never boils but the electric kettle in Winters House didn’t get that memo, because it was happily boiling away long before I was ready to face Gageagain.

I should get an electric kettle for my room, I thought. Then I wouldn’t have to come to the kitchen at night and wouldn’t risk running into Gage in my robe again. I could do that. It would be convenient, but I’d miss my nightly trips through WintersHouse.

There was something about traversing the sleeping house in the dark, alone, the way the moonlight turned the house into a fairytale, that made me feel as if I’d stumbled into my own happy ending. I loved this house. Loved to be alone init.

Though, I wasn’t alone now. I poured steaming water over the tea bags in matching mugs, wincing at the odor as the hot water hit the tea. Yuck. I couldn’t imagine something that smelled this bad could possibly help me sleep. The stench alone would keep meawake.

I’d promised Amelia I’d try the tea, so I dutifully carried the two mugs down the hall to the library, thinking wistfully of a nice mug of honeyed chamomileinstead.

Gage was sitting up on one side of the sofa when I returned, leaving the other side open for me. I wasn’t sure about sharing the sofa with him, but it was wide enough to give me space, and sitting in one of the arm chairs by the fire would have been weird when he’d moved to leave me aseat.

I felt awkward enough with Gage; I didn’t need to make a point by sitting across the room and make it evenworse.

I handed him one of the mugs, warning, “It’shot.”

Holding my breath, I raised my own mug to my lips, blew across the top, and took a hesitant sip. I have no words to describe the taste that hit mytongue.

Acrid and yet organic. Organic the way a rotten stump is organic. This tea was not about fresh fruit and flowers. It tasted like old gym socks and wet leaves from beneath a deadanimal.

Gage took a sip and choked. Wiping my hand across the back of my mouth, I watched as he gritted his teeth and forced himself to swallow. It was a good thing he hadn’t spit it out. I wasn’t sure Mrs. W would be able to get the stench out of the carpet. It would have been a shame to abandon the library because it smelled like thistea.