He smiles bashfully. I know him so well. “Always.”
I love this. How natural it feels to be in each other’s presence. There’s no awkwardness. The last few days of hurt just blur away. They’re no longer prominent to me. Except for this moment.
Using my free hand, I run it over his jaw. “I really like your beard, Liam.”
As I predicted, it’s soft and well-maintained.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve been using the beard oil you found for me all those months ago.”
Another thing I adore about Liam? He’s a skincare enthusiast like me and anything I suggest, he always tries out.
I stifle a laugh, picturing this big man sitting in front of his laptop, adding products to his Sephora cart because I asked him to.
“Do you still use the moisturizer I recommended?”
Liam drives with one hand, never letting go of mine. I find that so hot. “I use it every day, babe.”
Damn, what is it about a grown-ass man who takes care of himself—and I’m talking hygiene, dressing nice, smelling divine—that just does it for me?
“How was work?” he asks.
“Exhausting, but good. I made friends with two new fellow models, who I’ll probably run into during our next gig.” I twirl the ends of my hair. “How was your day?”
“I finished building a birdhouse for our next door neighbour Mrs. Clifford. She’s gotten a few visits from cardinals and blue jays in her backyard and she wants to be prepared for next summer.” Liam grins, shaking his head. “She asked me to paint it pastel pink and add little red flowers.”
My heart melts picturing Liam with a tiny paintbrush in his hands, adding little red flowers to a birdhouse in utmost concentration. “That’s so cute. Does Mrs. Clifford still bake you madeleines every Sunday?”
“Yup.” He chuckles. “I’m basically her surrogate grandson.”
I chuckle too and then serenity floats in our space as we enjoy the beginning of a long evening.
I keep stealing glances at Liam.
Liam keeps stealing glances at me.
Where our words lack, our eyes speak in loud volumes.
I’m so happy you’re here, I say.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, he tells me.
We enter the driveway of McDonald’s and my taste buds sigh in happiness. I can practically smell the greasy fries and taste the softness of the ice cream on my tongue.
I get ready to ask Liam a question, but it dies the second I catch him staring.
There’s something dark and sensual in that gaze as it sweeps over me from head to toe. “I really like your dress, Bel.”
Translation: I want to rip itoff your body tonight.
And if he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to turn feral and demand he take me into his back seat so we can do just that.
I cross my legs and he groans.
With a wink, I say flirtatiously, “I know.”
After grabbing our food, Liam drives us to his spot.
It’s absolutely perfect. The air is fresh, the sun is dipping low, and the water is glimmering like a cluster of crystals. The park is relatively empty except for a few locals who are feeding the ducks and an old couple taking a stroll.
