Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mrs. Parnell batting her ancient eyelashes at Saint. I wanted to growl.
“Well, if it isn’t one of the Wilde boys,” she tittered. “I didn’t know you were in town, sweetheart. What brings you home? I thought you were touring with that famous… what’s her name? Carla? Rosita? Lolita? The pop star you were guarding. You know the one. Barely wears any clothes.” She whispered that last part, most likely so Jesus didn’t hear her. It was a common affliction among Texan busybodies.
I sensed Saint’s body stiffen.
“Gemma, ma’am. I’ve been removed from her service.”
“Oh, what a shame.” Clearly, she didn’t think it was a shame at all.
“Not a shame. I’m working with another valuable asset now. One whose company I much prefer.” His eyes slid toward me, and I could have sworn I saw him take in a sudden breath before he winked.
Winked.
At me.
I gulped. Surely I was mistaken. I cleared my throat and moved to the table where the boxes were sitting so I could begin opening them. After tugging on the edge of one of the stubborn things with no success, I walked around the table to find a pair of scissors. Saint continued chatting with Mrs. Parnell while reaching for the box and ripping it open effortlessly. He swiveled it toward me and continued his conversation.
I stared at him.
Milo jumped up to see what was in the package. Within seconds, Saint’s big hands were all over my cat, stroking and caressing his tortoiseshell coat. Milo preened under his attentions while I stared in a jealous stupor.
“Hey, sweetie,” Saint murmured. “Who are you?”
Before I could say anything, Charlie spoke up in his lovely Irish lilt. “That’s Milo. A rare male calico. Mama’s been having an affair with him for many months now. It’s quite awkward considering your grandfathers’ dog Grump is her baby daddy.” Charlie turned to me with a frown. “Is that the right phrase? Baby daddy?”
I nodded, but before I could open my mouth, Mrs. Parnell cut in. “Oh you. Those puppies were so beautiful. I see at least three of them on my route every day.” She leaned over to scratch Charlie’s border collie on the head. “Well, I must be off. Augie, stay safe and get yourself one of those alarm systems on the old place, okay? Good to see you back, Saint. Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, smiling and waving until she was gone. His forehead crinkled as he turned back to study me. “You okay?”
I looked behind me to see who he was talking to. The only thing there was the Edwardian stand mirror that always showed movement in the store and assisted me regularly in scaring the crap out of myself.
“Who, me?” I asked.
Saint’s expression softened. “Yes, you. When I came in you were three inches from a broken nose. You all right?”
“Oh, uh… yeah. I’m fine.”
He studied me for a moment as if making sure I was telling the truth. His scrutiny made me squirm, so I busied myself unpacking one of the boxes of books onto the counter.
“Charlie,” Saint said. “I need to speak to Mr. Stiel about something private. Do you mind…?”
Charlie looked between Saint and me. “Mr. Stiel? Who the hell is—”
I looked up and caught Charlie’s eye.
“Oh, hmm. Well, okay. I guess.” He watched us over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the shop. “Come on, Mama. Augie, call me.”
I nodded, even though I’d never called the man before in my life. I’d spent the first six months living in the room over the shop until I got up the nerve to move into the farmhouse, but even then, I was usually too nervous to pop around to the pub for a drink by myself. The sum total of my visits with Charlie were when one or the other of us was fetching or returning Mama to the pub from my shop or the handful of times I’d ventured out for a beer at his pub.
When Charlie was gone, I suddenly realized the obvious. I was alone with Saint Wilde. My heart thumped and my stomach flopped around like a dying fish. I looked around frantically for the bottle of cold water I usually kept in the shop. Was it under the counter of the farinier? No. On the bookcase with the provenance files? No. Was it—
“Looking for this?”
I whipped my head around to see Saint holding out my water bottle. “How did you know what I was looking for?” I reached out and took the bottle, being careful not to let my fingers touch his. The daydreams I’d had about touching Saint Wilde had kept me up half the night jacking off. I was afraid if I touched him for real, my dick might get the wrong idea.