Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104037 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“And that’s me?” Still staring at him, I ask, “For eternity?”
“If you believe in that kind of thing, then I do too.”
Dragging my other hand from his shoulder and down lower, I’m gentle when I place it over the new tattoo and smile when I feel his heart beating with the same conviction as his tone. Suddenly, the what-ifs infiltrate my thoughts . . .
What if he’s right?
What if we’re meant for more?
What if we’re supposed to be together?
What if we’re soulmates?
His hold on my hand makes me think I might never get it back. That it’s my left supports the thought. “We have a few hours to sleep,” he says. “I get on a plane in less than seven, though. I need to pack and clear out of my hotel room. Add in traffic, and that doesn’t leave much time to get to the airport, but I want you with me, Poppy. I want you there as my fiancée. We can get married in Nashville or anywhere on the tour—even Paris. Just the two of us.”
He exhales as if freed from the burden he was carrying and gives me the smile that got us here in the first place. Sincere and full of charisma. “I won’t pressure you,” he adds. “Just think about it, okay?”
The word fiancée floats around in my head, keeping me from formulating a reasonable answer. “Think about marrying you? Laird, it’s so fast—”
“I know,” he says without shame. “But I know what I feel. If you feel the same, meet me before I get on that plane. Tell me you’ll consider my proposal.”
He’s been nothing but confidence and sexual prowess, going after what he wants without apology. I should expect nothing less when it comes to getting married, but he nods, allowing a rare shyness to come over his expression. The corners of his eyes soften, and his smile barely shapes his mouth. He’s attractive no matter what, especially on stage, but I might prefer the man before me—the quieter one who wears his heart on his sleeve only for me.
“We’ll get those pancakes you’ve been talking about since we left the tattoo shop,” he says.
“Gingerbread?”
“Yeah. Magnolia Café.” His breath deepens as sleep tries to control him, but he wraps his arm around me, holding me tight. “Meet me there at seven o’clock.”
It would be irresponsible for me to even consider marrying him on a whim.
A tattoo is one thing.
Marriage is quite another.
We haven’t even exchanged I love yous, though I could say it in all honesty.
“Be right back,” he whispers and places a kiss on my shoulder. Slipping out of bed, he disappears into the bathroom, leaving me enough space in thought to wrap my head around what’s happening.
Pros: My heart feels too big for my chest, and I’ve never felt safer than when held by him. I’ve not regretted one decision I’ve made since we met—not eating too much barbecue and getting drunk on beers, not having sex with him on the first date, not even the tattoo.
Cons: We barely know each other.
A responsible person could probably list a thousand more, but nothing else comes to mind at the moment. I care about him. I know that for a fact. Enough to marry him? If we were in Vegas, I would have already walked down the aisle.
Through the dark, I watch him when he returns but stops at the nightstand. He scribbles something on a piece of paper and then rips it from the pad. Crossing the room, he slips it into my bag.
I don’t ask him about it, thinking we’ve said all we need to tonight. We have tomorrow to fill with more questions and details.
When he returns to bed, he silently wraps himself around me as I feign sleep. I memorize everything about him—his breath against my shoulder and the feel of his hard to my soft. I don’t want to miss anything when faced with such a monumental decision.
I’ll either win his heart or break it altogether.
I can’t be rash. I need to be careful and think this through, but my heart wars with my head, leaving me more confused than ever. I close my eyes, hoping sleep gives the answers I need and a clearer head because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But I know where to find him when I do.
2
Laird Faris
“More coffee?”
I cover the mug with my hand and look up, spying the server’s nametag—Emmie. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” The pity in her eyes is easily seen in the sunshine flooding the diner. I really believed Poppy would show up.
I feel stupid for leaving a note telling her I love you. L.
Humiliated for putting myself out there in the first place.
What was I thinking? I wasn’t.
She’s drop-dead gorgeous, witty, could hold her own against my bad reputation, and unpredictable. So fucking unpredictable that I read her all wrong.