Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
There was no chance for me to argue. Pierce placed his scarf behind my neck and worked on getting it snugly fitted and tucked around me to keep my throat, cheeks, and even some of my chest warm. I opened my mouth to remind him I didn’t need him treating me like a child, but the words died on my tongue as the first rich whiff of his cologne danced past my nose. Oh God, it was like being encased in him. I could feel his warmth and smell him. The cologne I’d detected a hundred times took on new, deeper notes because it had bits of Pierce with it.
He leaned close, his lips parted, likely to admonish me to take better care of myself, but I didn’t let him speak. I pushed upward onto the tips of my toes, pressing my lips to his, stealing a kiss before he ran from me. But he didn’t pull away. His lips softened under mine, moving so gently, seeming to welcome the unexpected contact.
But in the next second, he was ripping away from me. I opened my eyes, mentally prepared for an angry glare or frustration, but was met with only a mix of fear and pain in his wide brown eyes.
“You…I…shouldn’t have done that,” Pierce stammered in an agonized whisper.
“No, we should be doing a lot more of that. I’m sure we’d be very good at it.”
The pain cleared from his face and the irritation returned, which worked to remove some of the knots in my stomach. I could deal with him being annoyed, frustrated, or even angry with me, but I couldn’t stand the idea of our kiss causing him pain.
“Sir? Sir?”
The sharp voice of the young valet cut through the tension. Pierce straightened, and we turned to see the valet holding the passenger-side door open for me.
“Thank you,” Pierce murmured as he handed him a folded bill and took his place at the door to help me inside, as if he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching me.
I sat in the car, one hand absently stroking the fine cashmere scarf Pierce had so carefully wrapped around my neck. He was never getting this back. No one had ever shown such care for my person.
Pierce was a walking contradiction in everything he said and did. He was caring, thoughtful, and protective—all the best, most enticing green flags—but his mouth was a goddamn red flag. This was why I needed to keep kissing him. It was imperative that I keep his mouth busy so he couldn’t say ridiculous things like we couldn’t kiss or we couldn’t date in real life. The sooner he learned to go along with my brilliant plan, the happier we would all be.
9
PIERCE SUTTON
“What are we doing here?”
“I need cheese.”
Simon said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but it only confused me more.
“Cheese?” I repeated as I took another look at the red facade of Findlay Market. It wasn’t the first place I thought of when I thought of cheese—not that I thought about cheese all that often.
Findlay Market had been a hub for Cincinnati for well more than a century, serving as a farmers’ market and one of the many city grocers. It had changed over the years, undergone renovations to keep up with the times and expanded. Years before I moved to the city, it had been an open-air market, but it had since been enclosed and divided up to house more individual shops, allowing the occupants to operate comfortably all year long. During the summer months, red tables and chairs filled the open area in front of the market, creating a spot for citizens to meet and enjoy some of the food they purchased from the shops and restaurants.
“Yes, cheese. You’re familiar with it? Fermented milk, right?”
Even he sounded iffy about the process of making cheese, and I chose not to wade in. I’d never made cheese or researched how cheese was made. I just appreciated how it tasted added to other food or simply put on a cracker.
“Shortly after I arrived in Cincinnati, I discovered Findlay Market. During our longer breaks, I would walk to the market, get something good to eat—usually cheese, bread, and a little olive oil—and walk back. It was a chance to get some exercise, see some of the city, enjoy the many murals that covered the sides of the buildings, and—”
“Acquire some cheese,” I finished for him. He wasn’t right in the head, and I was starting to believe that I wasn’t either, because I was trailing behind him as if this all made sense. “Was there some other reason you demanded I join you other than needing help buying cheese?”
Simon had called me from the office and stated that it was imperative that I meet him at two o’clock at Findlay Market. Stupid me hadn’t asked any follow-up questions. I’d instructed Marie to clear my schedule, and I’d bolted out the door after grabbing my coat. If I had paused for even half a second, I would have realized that this couldn’t be an emergency.