Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“You too.” As my fingers slid against his, a shiver skated down my spine, awakening tingles around the curve of my breasts. Whoa. His hand closed suddenly around mine like he’d felt the spark.
“Allegra is an unusual name.” He seemed reluctant to release my hand but slowly did.
At his questioning tone, I offered, “My mom is Italian.” I didn’t want to mention that he’d probably heard of Chiara Howard since she was a retired supermodel. When someone didn’t recognize me or know who I was, I liked to keep that information to myself for a while. I wanted people to get to know me for me, not for who my famous parents were.
“Really? But you’re American? Tourist or …” His eyes narrowed, something like disappointment dimming his expression. “You’re not a member of Ardnoch Estate?”
His obvious lack of enthusiasm over the idea made me even more reluctant to tell him who I was. I laughed instead. “Me? An actor? Um … no. I’m an artist. Just visiting.”
A club soda landed a little loudly in front of me and I raised my gaze from it to Arran. He wore a look of admonishment, like he knew what I was doing.
Mind your business, I directed silently.
He shrugged and moved away to serve a newcomer.
“A traveling artist,” Jared presumed, raising an eyebrow. “You sell any of your work?”
“I do. I mostly make art from glass. A few galleries sell my stuff.” That was the truth. But I didn’t mention that in compromising with my family about my future, I was also a student back in the States.
“Impressive.”
“What do you do?”
He smirked, took a slow sip of his beer, and wiped the foam off his lips. My eyes snagged on his mouth, my breath hitching a little at the thought of it pressed to mine. “I’m a farmer.”
“No.” The word shot out of my mouth in disbelief. “There’s no way.”
Jared raised an eyebrow.
“No, I don’t mean that how it came out. I just … you just … well, you don’t look like a farmer.”
“What’s a farmer supposed to look like?”
Wincing, I groaned. “I’m being offensive, aren’t I?”
He snorted, those stunning eyes twinkling. “It takes a lot more than that to offend me.”
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” I blurted out.
His expression warmed again as his gaze danced over my face. “So do you.”
My large dark eyes were my favorite feature, but his were something else. “I’d love to capture the colors.”
“Forever the artist?”
“Maybe.” I leaned toward him. “So … farming? Were you born into it? You had to be. You can’t be more than … twenty-five?” I guessed.
He nodded slowly. “Spot on.”
“Well? Born into it?”
Something sad flickered in his gaze and he looked down into his beer. “Aye, something like that.”
Without thinking, I reached over to place a hand on his arm. It was warm and strong beneath my palm. “I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.”
His attention drifted to my lips. The air charged between us, and I found myself leaning in closer. I couldn’t explain the pull. I didn’t know him. All I knew was that I was physically attracted to him on a level I’d never experienced before.
And I wanted to have sex with him.
There.
That was being honest with myself.
After my last relationship, it took a year of therapy before I finally started dating again, but I’d kept it casual. No relationships. Just hookups. My therapist, Gail, said that was normal and healthy for now, especially for someone my age.
At that moment, I wanted to get naked and casual with Jared. For the good of my mental health. Ha!
When our eyes met, I knew he saw the wicked thoughts in them.
We now both leaned toward each other, and my breathing grew shallow. “You fancy getting out of here?” he asked gruffly.
Straight to the point. I liked it.
I nodded, forgetting the purpose of my being in the Gloaming in the first place.
Reading the heated triumph on his face, we both moved to slide off our stools when my sister’s voice sounded behind me. “Oh, good, you’ve met Jared.”
I whipped around as my feet hit the floor and looked up at my big sister. Aria stood by the bar, her arm around her fiancé North. There was a tightness in her eyes, despite her warm smile as she glanced between us. “It looks like we’re first to arrive. Walker and Sloane are grabbing a booth.” She gestured across the bar where, sure enough, her friends were seated, watching us.
Just then, the pub door opened, and Sarah McCulloch and Theo Cavendish walked in. Theo was a famous screenwriter and club member. Sarah was a local who’d worked at Ardnoch as a housekeeper. She quit last year to pursue a successful career as a crime writer and was now in a relationship with Theo.