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)
My cheeks flushed. I was now fully awake again. “Oh my god.”
His gaze smoldered even as he reached for the cutlery. “I know your favorite dishes are cacio e pepe if it’s Italian, kung pao chicken if it’s Chinese, pad Thai noodles if it’s Thai, a haggis supper if it’s from the chippy, and butter chicken—Indian. You love fish but can’t stomach most shellfish. A mojito is your favorite cocktail. Champagne is your favorite overall, but you’re not a big drinker and you’d prefer to nurse a glass of bubbly because you think most alcohol tastes like, and I quote, ‘Swill.’ Whatever that means. I know you love traveling for fashion month, but I can tell you’re uncomfortable around industry people because when you talk about it, there’s always this wee telltale wrinkle between your nose and that light in your eyes when you talk about the actual clothes winks out. I know—”
I reached up to cover his mouth with my palm, my pulse pounding in my ears. His eyebrows rose in question.
“If you say much more, I’m going to melt into a puddle at your feet.” I felt his smile against my palm. “And then die of guilt.”
Baird frowned, pulling my hand from his mouth. “Why?”
“Because … because while you are the one person who has ever given a shit enough to notice all those things about me … I didn’t even notice you felt that way.” Tears brightened my eyes. “I was such a blind idiot. Literally and metaphorically.”
Baird grinned, bending his head to press a soft kiss to my mouth. He pulled back to search my eyes. “No guilt, My. We were in different places. Now we’re in the same place, and that’s all I care about.” He leaned back and lifted the plate to me. “Now, eat something before you fall asleep. Go sit. I’ll make tea and grab some water.”
He was taking care of me.
In fact, Baird McMillan had been taking care of me for far longer than I realized.
I promised myself as I settled on the couch that I was going to start taking care of him right back.
So as tired as I was, I said, “Uh-uh” when Baird reached for the TV remote. “We’re going to talk. About what you said the night you told me you had feelings for me. About football. How you feel about it now.”
He swallowed his bite of stir-fried noodles. “Sneak attack, eh?”
“Well?”
“We can talk about that later. It’s been a long day, My.”
“We’ll talk about it later if that’s really what you want, but I’d like to talk about it now. I want to make sure that my fiancé isn’t dreading going to training every day.”
His expression softened. “I had a bit of a … what do you call it? Epiphany? Aye, an epiphany today.” He then went on to explain how I’d helped him feel grateful for what he had in life. How so few young men who dreamed of playing professional football ever made it into the league. How he was grateful for the eight years he’d played. “That’s how I’m going to keep looking at it. And if I start to think that my fears really are winning and I’m not enjoying the game anymore, I’ll walk away and be grateful for how long it lasted. I just … I still need time to figure out if I’m ready to walk away or if I want to fight for it. There’s no magic answer. Just … time.”
Pride flooded my chest, so I told him I was proud of him.
He gave me a boyish grin. “Aye?”
“Aye.” I smiled, lowering my eyes so he couldn’t see my overwhelming emotions. “You know, behind that gregarious ‘life of the party’ demeanor, you’re more mature than men ten years older than you. Maybe even more mature than me.” I shrugged self-deprecatingly.
“Och, I wouldn’t go that far, beautiful.”
I looked up to meet his tender but wicked smile.
“After all, it’s a bit of a kink for me that I’ve bagged myself an older woman.”
I promptly plucked a mushroom out of my lettuce wrap and threw it at him. “Don’t ever call me an older woman again.”
He shook the piece of mushroom out of his hair, shoulders shaking with laughter. His voice trembled with it as he taunted, “You do realize when you’re forty, I’ll only be thirty-six.”
“I hate you.”
Baird laughed harder. “It’s a four-year age gap, gorgeous. Not ten. No big deal.”
A sudden thought flashed in my mind, making my smile slide right off my face.
“What? What just happened?”
“Nothing,” I squeaked out. It was way too soon to bring it up.
“It’s definitely something.” Baird put his plate down on my coffee table and turned his body into mine. “Talk to me. Because I can’t have you getting in your head—not when I finally know how fucking good it is between us.”