Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
“Okay,” she whispered, and I moved around to open the passenger side door for her. My hand briefly cupped her elbow as I helped her in, and she cast me a smile in thanks.
Fuck, I really had missed her. And not just the last two weeks being down in Cork. I’d missed her for months, being around her but maintaining a friendly distance. Not to mention the impulsive decision I’d made to buy that fucking house.
I’d told everyone it was an investment, that I was going to rent it out, but the real reason, well … I wasn’t even sure of the real reason myself. All I knew was Charli had looked at that house like it would complete the part of her she was working so hard to rebuild, and I just couldn’t see it go to someone else. Likely, a vulture fund would’ve snapped it up and started letting it for an eyewatering price. No, I couldn’t have let that happen. That place was meant for Charli. In my mind, it was already hers. I just hadn’t figured out the logistics of actually giving it to her yet.
Merely gifting it had giant tax implications, so that hadn’t been an option. I’d considered offering it to her as a rental, but she’d already found an apartment, and I’d worried she’d get the wrong impression, think I was trying to keep her close or control her somehow.
So, presently, I was the proud owner of two terraced houses even though I only needed one to live in. My own place was almost paid off, so it hadn’t been difficult getting a second mortgage, and I had a healthy amount of savings, not to mention my salary at the hotel was generous. Buying the place hadn’t put me in financial strain, and I could easily sell it off again at a profit, but I didn’t want that.
I wanted Charli to have it.
My gaze went to the soft, dark green material of her dress draped over her shapely thighs. It reached her knees, and the sight of her smooth, tan legs had me thinking of things I definitely shouldn’t have been thinking. Her scarred knee was exposed, the jagged, silvery raised skin a reminder of what she’d survived, and I felt a burst of pride that she wasn’t hiding away anymore.
Charli looked good enough to eat, something I’d dreamed about often during our months apart. I woke some mornings with the phantom taste of her in my mouth, unable to chase away my need.
She’d said she wanted to talk later, and my curiosity to know what she wished to discuss was difficult to tamp down.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the reception venue in the city centre. It was being held in a large function room in a period building above a gourmet food shop. I sometimes shopped there when I needed good, quality cheese or a specific type of mushroom. Honestly, it was a little unconventional, but it felt just right for Maggie and Shay. I couldn’t see them having a big, splashy wedding like the ones we often catered to at the hotel.
No, this was perfect.
“Go inside and straight up the stairs,” I told Charli and Nuala. “I’m going around the corner to park the car.”
“Okay, see you in there,” Nuala said as she climbed out, and then I became aware of Charli’s hand landing softly on my arm. “Thanks for driving us.”
“No worries.” I stared at her hand and resisted the urge to tug her onto my lap and devour her pretty lips.
“Come on, Charli. Rhys is holding up traffic,” Nuala said, and sure enough, there was a queue of cars lined up behind me on the narrow street.
Charli exhaled, shot me a parting look that seemed laden with words she longed to say, then exited the car. By the time I made it back to the reception, I was accosted by Jonathan Oaks and brought to an outdoor balcony area where Shay and Ross were waiting.
“I’ve been saving these for a special occasion,” Jonathan said, patting what appeared to be a flat, square box inside his jacket pocket. “I suppose the day I walk my sister down the aisle is special enough.”
“You did a great job,” Ross told him. “You were very fatherly.”
“I hope that’s not a crack at my age,” Jonathan cast him an amused glower. “I’ll have you know, I’m barely forty.”
“Those greys would beg to differ,” I put in, grinning. I wasn’t Jonathan’s biggest fan, but I could enjoy giving him a mild ribbing.
“Don’t start on me, Doyle, or I’ll ask the lovely American to join me for a dance later. I have to say, she looks positively edible in that dress and those heels,” Jonathan retorted, and it was suddenly my turn to glower though there was no amusement present.