Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Maybe she just liked flowers.
Then again, she’d been taken aback when he’d bought her earrings, jewelry, not incidentally, she was wearing right now.
She was worth a load. Her mother’s estate was worth more. Her father even more.
But she was a woman who sincerely appreciated the small things if there was meaning to them.
“Have you heard from Kenna?” she asked into his thoughts.
“Yesterday,” he told her. “She’s rearranged her flight to be here mid-week. You’ll be seeing her before ye go.”
“Wonderful.”
She let some time pass before she queried carefully, “Have you heard more from your father?”
“As I’ve told ye, love, he’s been repeatedly attempting contact.”
“I know. You said. But he still is?”
“I’ve texted him that once I told ye about to tell him to back off and wait until I’m ready to speak with him.”
“It’s good to establish healthy boundaries.”
“Aye.”
“But even if you’re not replying, he’s still not recognizing them?”
“No. He keeps trying. I just ignore it. Davi’s doing the same thing.”
“Your mum?”
It was hard for him to think on that one, because it pissed him off so much.
“Aye.”
“He’s still badgering your mum?” she asked, her voice pitched higher.
“Aye,” he repeated.
“Oh, Dair,” she said softly.
“It’s okay, baby,” he replied.
“It isn’t.”
“Well, it is what it is.”
“Yes. It is that.”
They got out of talking about the heavy as he guided them the rest of the way to his terrace flat and he parked in the back.
He wrestled her bags and suitcase up the walk while she rolled her carry-on and hugged her roses to her chest.
He let them into the boot room at the back.
She entered and stopped, taking it in, before he moved them into the kitchen.
She continued gazing around. “God, Dair, this is—”
She ended her words abruptly on a high-pitched squeal.
This was because Sorcha, his Scottish Deerhound, came loping in, and after a cursory sniff and tail wag Dair’s way, she went right to Blake.
Blake edged away as Sorcha followed her.
“What is it?” she asked after she butted up against his kitchen worktop, staring at Sorcha like she was being cornered by a diseased rat.
Dair felt his neck muscles tighten, because he didn’t like this one bit.
It was a huge problem due to the fact it was a dealbreaker.
You liked him, you liked his dog.
You couldn’t love him, unless you loved his dog.
“She’s Sorcha, my dog.”
Blake’s overwrought gaze came to him. “It’s a dog?”
“She is, aye.”
“She’s huge.”
Sorcha was snuffling Blake’s hand.
“She’s a deerhound.”
“Dogs are supposed to fit in bags so you can take them shopping,” she declared.
Bloody hell.
“Are you going to eat me?” she asked Sorcha.
Sorcha panted.
“Even though you’re furry, when it gets cold, are you going to let me put a sweater on you?” Blake asked.
Sorcha’s body vibrated with excitement.
Bloody fucking hell.
Although Sorcha was taking the opportunity herself, Blake offered her hand for his dog to sniff. She did, before she licked it, then Blake gave her head a rubdown.
Dair relaxed.
“With all that beautiful, shaggy gray-white fur, I’m thinking, cashmere. Black, obviously. How about you?” Blake asked his dog.
Sorcha got even more excited.
“You aren’t dressing my dog,” Dair asserted.
Now Blake had put down the bouquet and she was rubbing his girl with both hands. “She and I disagree.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered.
She straightened and demanded, “Show me your house.”
This he did, with Sorcha trotting along with them.
He ordered Blake to leave her carry-on where it was, they wandered around, and he ended the tour up in his attic bedroom with the slanted roof, so he could deposit her bags there. All of them.
His bedroom had a king bed shoved against the short wall. A skylight over it. Hardwood floor. Gray walls. White baseboards. Gray and white thin-striped sheets. Red and white thick-striped euros. And red desk lamps on both nightstands.
“I’m impressed,” Blake told him. “With all of it.”
“I had a designer,” he told her.
“She’s good,” she observed.
“Aye. He is,” he agreed. “Bathroom through there.” He indicated.
She wandered that way.
“Closet next to it,” he shared. “I cleared some drawer and hanging space for ye.”
She stopped peering into the bathroom and looked to him.
Sorcha sat down and leaned against her.
Absently, she scratched his dog’s head.
Oh, aye.
This was going to work.
“We’re domesticating very fast, Dair,” she purred.
“Ye a woman who lives out of suitcase?”
“Absolutely not.”
As he thought.
“So I’m just looking after you.”
She moved his way.
Sorcha moved with her.
She put both her hands on his chest, so he put his to her hips, she leaned into him and said, “You seem to do well with that.”
His voice was rough when he asked, “Do ye want me to feed you or fuck you, darling? Because if you’re hungry, and ye pick fucking, you’re going to have quite a wait.”
Her eyes flashed, but she said, “I’m actually really hungry.”
“Then let’s get some food in ye.”
With that, he, his woman and his dog headed down the stairs.
They were on the couch in his living room.