“A tour?”
“Of your cottage, baby.” The way he keeps calling me baby sounds so intimate. Like we’ve been together for years instead of having had our second conversation half an hour ago. It’s possessive, and when he says that word, I shiver every time. Like he thinks I’m the most important person in his world. I’m worried that might be the case. I’d also be concerned if it weren’t because I’m a hot mess right now.
“There’s not much to see. There’s this living room, the kitchen, and two bedrooms. One is my office.”
“Where you create all the magic.”
“Yes. And don’t ask me for more information. That’s all you get. That’s all anyone gets. I’m very private when it comes to my writing. I don’t share my pen name. I don’t even share my subgenres. I write romance. That’s all you’ll ever get from me.” It seems important to lay this out now. It wouldn’t matter if I married this man and spent my life with him. He doesn’t need to know my pen name or any other aspect of my work. That’s half the reason I never let anyone get close to me. Hard line.
Brody strolls around my small cottage, ignoring my pronouncement. He doesn’t let go of my hand. “Did you decorate all this yourself?”
“No. It was furnished. I fell in love with it the moment I stepped inside, though. I’ve only added a few things of my own.”
He nods slowly, continuing to peruse. “But it’s you, right?”
I shrug. “I guess. It’s like living in a fairyland. Surrounded by all this dainty stuff. It takes me back in time. Or maybe it looks like an old woman lives here. I don’t know. I like it. The second I saw it, I was sold on the place.”
He pauses and lifts my hand, rubbing my knuckles against his soft, short-trimmed beard. “Have dinner with me.”
I search his face. This thing between us. I can fight it, but I will lose. It’s inevitable. “Okay.”
He smiles, and it lights up the room. Fuck, he’s sexy. “That was easier than I expected.”
I roll my eyes. “You didn’t exactly pose it as a question. Would you have let me say no?”
He shakes his head, laughing. I love that sound. I want to press myself against him and feel it vibrate throughout my body. Damn, he’s sexy. Every inch of him. I could stare at him for hours.
He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “Have breakfast with me, too.”
I chuckle. “Now you’re pushing it.”
“Am I?”
No. He’s not. But I will hold my ground on that issue. “I’m not sleeping with you, Brody.”
“Oh, you’ll sleep with me, little pixie, but we’re not going to have sex, if that’s what you mean.”
I narrow my gaze, confused.
He continues to kiss my knuckles. “Let’s start with dinner, sleeping, and breakfast. While we’re doing those things, you can tell me everything I need to know about you so I’ll be able to order your favorite flowers and candy for the rest of our lives.”
My breath hitches. Sure, on some level, I comprehend this is happening, but saying it out loud is madness. He can’t really be contemplating a relationship with me. We just met.
He steps closer, slides a hand up my back, and holds me against him. My every inhale draws in the intoxicating scent of him. It’s exactly how I write it, and it’s the reason I don’t date. Because things like this don’t happen in real life, and I’m not willing to settle for less.
I’m way too engrossed in the world of romance to step out of my office at the end of the day and lead an ordinary life. It would be a constant disappointment.
But this… What the hell is happening here? This is not normal.
“There are a couple of restaurants in town,” he murmurs.
I shake my head. “We’re not going on a date in Wilde.”
“Why not? It’s a great idea. Word will spread like wildfire. Within an hour, every eligible man in a twenty-mile radius will know you’re taken.”
“You can’t just claim me, Brody,” I argue futilely.
“Of course I can. I already did.”
