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)
Only the bathroom light in the bedroom where we were sleeping remains on. It’s enough light to get my bearings in the house but, more importantly, to see Laird when my eyes adapt to the lower light level. With a knuckle under my chin, he lifts until our gazes latch together. “I meant your head. You had a headache earlier and then a memory.”
“I had a flash. That’s it. I’m not positive what triggered it.”
“Me saying I’ll buy you anything.” Chuckling, he kisses the bridge of my nose. “I would too. Anything you need. Anything you want, baby.”
My tummy tightens in sheer response. Is it the words, the smooth dulcet tones, or the man himself? I’m betting everything that it’s Laird. I pull against him, wrapping my arms around him, and listen to his steady heartbeat. “You know what I need?”
“Sleep?”
I tilt my head up as astonishment gets the best of me. “How did you know?”
“Maybe because it’s the middle of the night, and we were just woken up by the power surging back on?”
“Guess it’s not that wild that you knew the answer.”
“Good guess. Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Think you can fall asleep?”
“I’ll be asleep before my head hits the pillow.” Laird falls asleep faster, but I doze off tucked in his arms right after.
“We have two options.”
Cupping my mug, I let the scent of coffee waft in the air in front of me. It’s so good to have a few things in working order. Mugs. Coffee. Birds chirping. Best of all, the snow is almost gone. It’s pretty much downhill from here. Resting against the opposite counter as him, I ask, “Which are?”
“We stay, buy groceries again, and make the most of the remainder of the week together. Or we don’t bother with that and spend the rest of the week in Malibu.”
“What’s in Malibu?”
“My house.”
“Of course, it is.” I laugh and then take a sip from the mug. “On the beach?”
“No. We’re not The Resistance. Our band’s still fighting their way to the top. But I have a pool and a killer view.”
I love his honesty. I love that he’s not arrogant. He’s just stating facts, like he did last night when he said most women want him. I’m starting to feel guilty for appreciating his appearance so much. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything, Poppy.” He picks up his coffee to drink, but his gaze stays fixed on mine. I can’t say worry crosses his eyes, but he shifts in unease.
“Does it bother you that women look at you like you’re the sum of your physical appearance?”
A crinkle divides his forehead as the left side of his mouth lifts. “That was unexpected. Um…” He looks at the ceiling before back at me. “Does it bother me when women stare or hit on me without knowing anything other than what I look like?” He chuckles. “No. I’m used to it.”
“Just like that. You’re used to it, so it’s fine and dandy.”
“I didn’t say it was fine or dandy, but why would I get worked up over it at this point?”
“What does ‘at this point’ mean?”
He shifts again, straightening his back this time but resting his hands on the counter behind him. He looks ready to dash, though his words contradict it—open to have the conversation. “I’m not going to waste my life worrying about what they think of me. There are only a handful of people whose opinion I value, but only one who makes me care if they think I’m attractive.” He pushes off and cages me in. “You.”
A fire is lit in my chest, warming me through my extremities. Creeping up my chest, I feel my cheeks heat as well. “I feel bad for being so attracted to you.” I cup his face and add, “But know it’s who you are under this incredibly sexy body and face that won my heart.”
His million-dollar smile makes my knees weak and my heart beat faster. Swooping in to catch me, he whispers, “You wouldn’t feel bad if you knew all the things I’ve imagined doing with you, to you, and that sweet body of yours.” Getting a good hold on each cheek of my ass, he squeezes. “Trust me, none of them included that beautiful brain of yours.” His eyes dip to my mouth. “A lot had to do with that mouth, though.”
And then I crash to the ground, nothing but a limp bag of jelly . . . “Really?” I ask, wrapping my arms around him. I stare up, wondering how I got so lucky. Since I met Laird, I’m starting to believe I am one of the lucky ones. “Do tell.”
Taking my hand, he starts leading me toward the hallway. “I’d rather show you.”
“Malibu,” I say, getting out of the truck at Willie’s Mechanic Shop a few miles past Maggie’s Café. We cut through the small downtown, which consists of a bank, a post office, a teeny grocer, one fast food place, and a dollar store, though a diner that looks straight out of the fifties was just on the outskirts of the downtown area.