Liam

I didn’t chase women.

Never felt the need to, never thought it was fun to go in circles, trying to understand what they really wanted. Because I’ve been with those kinds of women, and it was a pain in the ass.

Something about Bree intrigued me. She wasn’t playing any games, and yet I got the distinct feeling that she was holding back around me. She looked genuinely confused that I’d approached her, and I had no idea why.

She was sweet, she was sexy, and the hell of it was, she was completely unaware of it.

She played with a charm on her bracelet as she looked out the window, oddly silent. “Nice bracelet,” I said conversationally. I’d seen her twist it around her wrist, a subconscious habit I don’t think she was really aware of.

“Thanks.” She looked down at it. There was softness in her gaze. “It was a present from my mom.”

There was pain in her words. It was subtle, and she made an effort to conceal it with a smile, but it was there. I almost immediately regretted the question. “Sorry. Bad memory?”

She shrugged, but I had a feeling it mattered to her. “No—good memories. Just an old one.”

“Sometimes, it’s the good ones that hurt a damn lot.”

A thoughtful look crossed her face, and she exhaled a breath. “You’re right. But I’ll be fine.”

It sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself, but for now, I let it go.

The screen of her phone glowed. She picked it up immediately. “Now you text,” she muttered under her breath, but I heard her.

Her body tensed when I glanced at her. She cleared her throat and shifted to look at me with those dark, expressive eyes. “Liam—you can’t take me home. Please, lets go somewhere else first.”

Hell. How can anyone refuse her when she looked at me like that?

But there was desperation in her voice, and it stirred my curiosity.

“Why not?” I asked her.

“Umm.” Her eyes darted towards the window.

I waited.

She gave in, sighing. “My sister’s there.”

What the hell did it matter? I already knew Rona.

“Rona… It’s just us who look out for each other now. If she sees you, she’s going to blast you with questions.”

Ah.

“Baby, now I feel like a dirty secret.”

She looked horrified. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean that at all.”

“Just teasing, Bree.” I chuckled. What was it about her? “So. Where do you want to go?”

* * *

“You wanna ride that?” I eyed the rainbow-colored Ferris wheel that stretched high up.

I couldn’t remember the last time I rode on it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I gave it more than a passing thought. Most of the time it melted into the background.

She nodded firmly. “I go here a lot when I need to think.”

The carriage squeaked as I stepped in.

“This is… safe?”

“Yep,” she replied quickly.

My head nearly bumped the top of the carriage as I sat down. This thing looked like it was about to fall off, and she looked no less thrilled to ride it. She sat opposite me, her excitement infectious.

Scared of being stuck in an elevator, but ride a Ferris wheel and she’s fucking jumping in excitement.

“Give it a year,” I said. “You’ll end up forgetting it exists.”

She curled her hand on the rail and looked out, a crease settling between her brows. “I don’t want to forget.”

The Ferris wheel started moving.

She looked exhausted. Her eyes were closed as she breathed in.

“Tired?” I asked. Suddenly, I didn’t like the idea of her working so much.

She smiled weakly. “A little, I guess. But I’m fine.”

There was that word again.

She’d said it with smooth, practiced ease. I looked out the window too. Fortuity was peppered with small speckles of light from up here. Strange that I never realized it before. Never remembered what it even looked like from up here.

“Hmm.”

Her eyes snapped open and she looked at me in surprise. Had no one ever stopped to challenge the sincerity of her practiced response? She looked down at her hands, smoothing the edges of her dress. “What?”

“You’ve been in the bakery since what, seven?” I asked.

“Six thirty.” She paused, before her eyes narrowed. “I don’t work too much,” she quickly added, almost defensively.

I gave her a look.

She blew out a breath, giving in. “All right. Yes, probably. Sometimes.”

I cracked a grin. “Only sometimes?”

She did a half-shrug. “Maybe more. But I love it. I’m dead on my feet. I have cuts on my fingers—and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

I understood that. I respected the hell out of it. Her professionalism, her passion, and right now, her honesty.

I don’t know what it was about her, but I wanted more.

And as the Ferris wheel lowered us, I caught the way the light hit her, revealing the inside of her wrist. I leaned closer, and took her hand. Then I flipped her hand around.

She realized my intent, but it was too late.

“You burned yourself this morning.”

She tried to pull her hand away, but I didn’t let her. I wanted to know.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

“It happens. It’s just part of my work. And it’s not that bad, I already put some ice on it.”

I took a deep breath, trying to gather patience. The skin of her palm was smooth and warm, and I didn’t let go of her hand, trying to calm myself. I looked out the window again as we reached the peak once more. The sight eased my irrational desire to protect her. Somehow, the stars looked like they burned brighter.

“I didn’t know Fortuity looked like this,” I admitted.

“It’s spectacular, isn’t it?” she said, her voice nearly vibrating with energy, even though she looked like a feather could make her fall over.

“Thank you,” I told her, kissing the skin below the burn, where it was soft.

I felt her shiver, and I smiled. I realized then that I wanted to take my time with her. She was someone to be savored, like fine wine and the darkest chocolate. I was enjoying my time with a woman I wasn’t sleeping with—yet—and I wanted to learn more about her.

This was turning out to be too important to fuck up by trying to rush things and scaring her away.