Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
I wondered if Callan was as generous as Colin had been in bed, though. According to Hailey, he hadn’t put much effort in, but Georgia said he was a phenomenal lover. Phenomenal. Hot tingles awoke between my legs. I’d had great sex … but phenomenal?
I peeked at Callan again. At his mouth. He’d been a fantastic kisser. What would his stubble feel like scratching against my inner thighs?
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Callan suddenly asked.
My cheeks heated and I was thankful I was not a blusher. “Just enjoying the nice evening,” I lied.
Baird lived in the quaint Dean Village in a nineteenth-century building social hall that had been converted into the sickest flat ever. When I’d first heard that Baird lived here, it didn’t quite make sense. Callan and his modern penthouse made sense.
Baird in his nineteenth-century flat shouldn’t have but somehow did.
Everything became clear when I saw the flat. If you could call it a flat.
The main space was cathedral-like, with the highest ceilings I think I’d ever seen in a home. The period features, such as the windows, had been retained, as had the gigantic-tiled fireplace on the west end of the room. Honestly, you could tell it was a converted social hall because of the many rows of windows on either side. That did have the advantage of filling the space with so much light, though.
Baird had tried to make the space as cozy as possible. There were dramatically long curtains at every window, a twelve-seater dining table down one side near the fireplace, and a large corner sofa with chairs situated around a coffee table and pointing at a large television screen beyond the dining table.
On the east end of the room was where the real drama happened. A stylish kitchen with a six-seater marble island propped up a mezzanine bedroom that literally sat on a mounted base above the kitchen. A glass balustrade was the only thing between the bedroom and the hall.
No privacy, but it was bloody cool.
I’d later discover from Baird’s sister that behind the kitchen was a generous and beautiful modern bathroom, and a doorway on either side of the kitchen led up winding, narrow staircases to two more bedrooms.
It was a lot of space for one bloke, but I could certainly see why he’d fallen in love with it.
It was also the perfect party pad.
There were a lot of guests over, most of whom looked like his teammates and their partners, but there was still plenty of space to walk around.
Baird swallowed me up in a big bear hug upon our arrival. Then he excitedly introduced me to his big sister Ainsley, who eyed me carefully as she glanced between Baird and Callan. John came over to say hello and Ainsley made a crack about us looking like brother and sister, and everyone laughed at how uncomfortable this seemed to make Callan, who vehemently disagreed.
After a while, I found myself sitting on a stool at the island chatting with Ainsley about her business. She shared that Baird had renovated the space into a flat, and she’d helped with the interior design. It was her idea to create the mezzanine bedroom. She said this place is the one that put her on the map as an interior designer. We were both self-made and had a lot in common, and she was the prime example of someone who knew how to make social media work for her.
“So, you and Callan, huh?” She leaned against the island, sipping a beer out of a cold bottle. I was drinking the nonalcoholic beer the footballers were drinking because I couldn’t afford a hangover. Ainsley glanced over my shoulder and her sudden, deep frown made me turn around to follow her gaze.
Callan sat on the arm of Baird’s sofa, facing toward us. He was taking a pull of NA beer, his knees splayed, and a young woman stood between said knees. She had long, wavy red-gold hair and her hand rested on his shoulder as they chatted.
Flirted.
Not chatted.
Flirted.
He wore a teasing smirk that he hadn’t shot my way since high school. Whatever he said made the redhead throw her hair back in laughter, and Callan’s gaze darted down her body in interest.
Weirdly stung by witnessing the encounter, I smothered the sensation and turned back to Ainsley with an insouciant shrug.
Ainsley raised an eyebrow. “That shit doesn’t bother you?”
Though I tried to form a blasé smile, I could feel it wobble a bit as I explained, “We’re only pretending to date.”
“Why?”
“Because …” A voice startled me, and I turned to my right as Baird slid into the space beside me and a guy sitting on the stool with his back to us. Baird slung an arm over my shoulders. “Some big shot CEO Beth wants as a client tried to set her up with her son, Beth lied and told her she was dating Callan to get out of it, and the CEO called her on the lie. So, Callan’s pretending to date Beth in exchange for a meeting with her dad about the castle we want to buy from him.”