Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Baird was a good-natured lothario. He’d never intentionally hurt a woman. I think he’d chew off his own arm first. But this was a man who could flirt with a lamppost. He’d never be satisfied with the same woman for the rest of his life. He was heartbreak waiting to happen for anyone who fell in love with him, so he’d never be a romantic possibility for me.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy looking at him.
This morning he’d not only surprised me with the tabloid story but with his haircut.
I’d loved his long hair. Yet he was sexier than ever with it shorter. It was wet right now and hanging across his temples in waves. He had to brush it out of his eyes, his big, tattooed hand impatiently swiping at it.
My dad had tattoos. Nearly all my uncles had tattoos, including Uncle Cole. Baird could give Cole—one of the best tattoo artists in the country—a run for his money. Baird had a full sleeve of artwork all the way to the fingers on his right hand. This past year, the tattoo collection had grown. Now he had tattoos across his chest and up onto his neck. They were Celtic tribal in style, and Cole had expertly shaded the designs so the ink wasn’t overly prominent.
If you’d asked me whether I’d be attracted to a guy with a neck tattoo, I would have said no.
And I would have been wrong.
Last year, I’d told Will I was finally ready to get a tattoo, and he’d talked me out of it. He said tattoos were trashy and I’d regret it. Looking back, Will could really be a bit of a dick.
“You’re still mad at me.” Baird’s broad shoulders slumped.
I realized I was scowling at the memory of my ex-fiancé and smoothed my features.
My chest squeezed at Baird’s forlorn expression. The man was six foot five, built of pure muscle, and he could squash most people between his giant paws. Yet he made me feel protective of him.
“Nope.” I stepped back, gesturing for him to come in.
Baird had only been at my place once before. Thankfully, I’d tidied up last night and there were no underwear drying on my radiators.
His expression lightened with relief as he strode in, giving me a flash of that cocky grin. Baird didn’t talk much about his dad because he’d taken off when he was a baby, hence why he’d taken his mother’s surname instead. But he did tell me his dad was Scottish Italian, and I gathered that’s where he’d inherited the olive skin that made his teeth gleam white.
The smell of bergamot and lemons accompanied him, and I felt another flush of inappropriate attraction. Especially when my gaze devoured his broad back and tapered waist as he strolled down my hallway.
He was like a Marvel superhero brought to life.
“Tea? Coffee? Water?” I asked, trailing him, pulling a wee bit self-consciously at my crumpled cropped pajama tee.
“Chamomile.” Baird followed me into the compact kitchen. He seemed to fill the entire space as I made us both tea.
“What brings you here?” I asked, even though I suspected I knew. He made it difficult to stay annoyed with him.
“To apologize.”
I glanced over my shoulder, and his gaze jerked up from my lower back to my face. It was not unusual to catch Baird staring at my arse or legs or chest. We were friends, but he was a man who loved women, and I did have all the female bits he adored, so I didn’t take it personally. “You don’t need to.”
“I do.” He took the mug I offered. “Maia, you’re my friend, and I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
I gently tapped my mug against his. “Well, cheers to that. Come sit.”
Once we’d settled in my living room, him making my sofa look tiny and me in my armchair facing him, I asked, “What’s going on with you?”
Baird pushed his hair off his face before taking a sip of the tea. I waited. He gave me a small, sexy grin at my serious, determined expression. “I’m fine, babe.”
Babe.
The one and only time he’d met Will, he called me babe so many times I thought Will’s head would explode. When Will went to the loo, I’d had to ask Baird not to do it in front of my partner. He’d grinned like an idiot who’d won a pissing contest. I’d playfully tried to shove him into the bar counter. Tried being the operative word. It was like trying to shove a hundred-year-old oak tree. That only made Baird laugh harder. But he’d stopped calling me babe in front of Will.
“I don’t believe you. If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But just be honest.”
“I am fine.” He leaned forward. “I’ve got a lot on my plate. The season, the castle reno … and I just need to decompress a bit. I might have gone about it the wrong way.”