Read Online Sydney (Book One) (That Wedding Girl 1) by Maggie Way - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maggie Way
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that would get you interested. Care to hear more?”
I do. I need to know why he’s back. He can’t just show up out of the blue, discussing business with me without divulging what his situation is.
“Fine. But only if you tell me why you’re back,” I challenge quickly.
He raises an eyebrow, his face illegible. “I don’t think so. Obviously, you’re not interested enough.”
“I’ll put in a good word to Hansley.”
“What do you mean?”
I’m having fun with this. “ Well , I could either say you took me here when I was at my most vulnerable and looked after me. Or I could say you took me here when I was at my most vulnerable and messed with me.” I can see a trace of panic across his face.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He knows how protective Hansley is of me, especially when it comes to guys like him.
“Obviously you don’t remember me much.”
Without warning he walks up to me, towering over me to put his dishes in the sink, leaning down slightly. That vanilla scent is there again, the same one from the sheets. The top of his singlet falls down and I get a glimpse of his toned chest with a generous smattering of hair on it. I can see that long scar on his sternum, which he got when he and Hansley were playing with a metal sheet when he was sixteen.
My face goes warm at his close proximity. Instantly, an odd shiver runs through me. Strange, it must be static . I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. I’ve known him my whole life but this feels completely new, this dynamic brewing between us and I can tell he feels the same way. He’s so close, his face just inches from mine.
He’s gazing at me, concentrating hard on my expression and I hear his breathing hitch. Why is he having this effect on me? I don’t understand it. “What do you want to know?” he asks. That low rumble does something to my insides.
“Everything.” His nostrils flare loudly and he stares at me, dark eyes blazing. I almost forgot that in the light, his eyes have these gold flecks that make them almost hazel, it’s nice.
“You play hard ball. Deal.” He reaches out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
I offer my hand and he practically envelops mine with his like a baseball glove. Rough, warm and smooth all at once. His thumb strokes my knuckles, up and down, and I inhale swiftly at the sensation of his skin on mine. What’s wrong with me, he’s just shaking my hand.
“You have beautiful hands,” he stares at me, intently, a soft expression on his face.
Before I get a chance to react he quickly releases his warm grasp and paces back a few steps. “We’re going to need more coffee. Sit down on the couch,” he dictates, turning around to head towards the fridge to grab the milk.
What was that? He was his usual self one minute, and abrupt the next. I make my way to sit in the middle of the spacious leather couch, curious to know what’s going to happen next.
As he boils the kettle, he throws on a flannel green plaid shirt, which further enhances his muscular build. It’s hypnotising; how he moves - it’s fluid, effortless, and rugged all at the same time. He’s like this hot lumberjack – minus the beard, which is totally not what I usually find attractive at all. I like guys in pressed shirts, tailored trousers, and loafers.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve been checking him out all morning, despite my efforts not to. I think I get a concession for my situation, right? Tristan catches me staring at him and I quickly look down at my nails. Dammit. He comes back with two large mugs of coffee and sits close to me on the couch and I breathe quietly. Get yourself together, it’s just Tristan .
Placing my mug on the table, he holds onto his.
“Before I go into the details, can I ask how you got into wedding planning? You were never the girly type growing up, more of a nerd actually.” He lifts his feet on the couch and turns to face towards me.
“Oh my gosh, that was in high school! I’ve
I do. I need to know why he’s back. He can’t just show up out of the blue, discussing business with me without divulging what his situation is.
“Fine. But only if you tell me why you’re back,” I challenge quickly.
He raises an eyebrow, his face illegible. “I don’t think so. Obviously, you’re not interested enough.”
“I’ll put in a good word to Hansley.”
“What do you mean?”
I’m having fun with this. “ Well , I could either say you took me here when I was at my most vulnerable and looked after me. Or I could say you took me here when I was at my most vulnerable and messed with me.” I can see a trace of panic across his face.
“You wouldn’t dare.” He knows how protective Hansley is of me, especially when it comes to guys like him.
“Obviously you don’t remember me much.”
Without warning he walks up to me, towering over me to put his dishes in the sink, leaning down slightly. That vanilla scent is there again, the same one from the sheets. The top of his singlet falls down and I get a glimpse of his toned chest with a generous smattering of hair on it. I can see that long scar on his sternum, which he got when he and Hansley were playing with a metal sheet when he was sixteen.
My face goes warm at his close proximity. Instantly, an odd shiver runs through me. Strange, it must be static . I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. I’ve known him my whole life but this feels completely new, this dynamic brewing between us and I can tell he feels the same way. He’s so close, his face just inches from mine.
He’s gazing at me, concentrating hard on my expression and I hear his breathing hitch. Why is he having this effect on me? I don’t understand it. “What do you want to know?” he asks. That low rumble does something to my insides.
“Everything.” His nostrils flare loudly and he stares at me, dark eyes blazing. I almost forgot that in the light, his eyes have these gold flecks that make them almost hazel, it’s nice.
“You play hard ball. Deal.” He reaches out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
I offer my hand and he practically envelops mine with his like a baseball glove. Rough, warm and smooth all at once. His thumb strokes my knuckles, up and down, and I inhale swiftly at the sensation of his skin on mine. What’s wrong with me, he’s just shaking my hand.
“You have beautiful hands,” he stares at me, intently, a soft expression on his face.
Before I get a chance to react he quickly releases his warm grasp and paces back a few steps. “We’re going to need more coffee. Sit down on the couch,” he dictates, turning around to head towards the fridge to grab the milk.
What was that? He was his usual self one minute, and abrupt the next. I make my way to sit in the middle of the spacious leather couch, curious to know what’s going to happen next.
As he boils the kettle, he throws on a flannel green plaid shirt, which further enhances his muscular build. It’s hypnotising; how he moves - it’s fluid, effortless, and rugged all at the same time. He’s like this hot lumberjack – minus the beard, which is totally not what I usually find attractive at all. I like guys in pressed shirts, tailored trousers, and loafers.
Okay, I’ll admit it. I’ve been checking him out all morning, despite my efforts not to. I think I get a concession for my situation, right? Tristan catches me staring at him and I quickly look down at my nails. Dammit. He comes back with two large mugs of coffee and sits close to me on the couch and I breathe quietly. Get yourself together, it’s just Tristan .
Placing my mug on the table, he holds onto his.
“Before I go into the details, can I ask how you got into wedding planning? You were never the girly type growing up, more of a nerd actually.” He lifts his feet on the couch and turns to face towards me.
“Oh my gosh, that was in high school! I’ve
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