want to take me to a party?”
“Why not? Don't you date rock stars? I told you, my prospects are good and…”
“Very funny, Bryn.”
I tap my fingers on the table. Why do I want to see this chick so much? I stamp down the Bryn who wants to see Avery because he missed out on sex with her last time and remind myself I like her for more than that. Talking to Avery is like calling an old friend, an immediate reconnection, and I have no clue why.
“I’ll think about it and call you back,” Avery replies. “Thanks for calling.”
When she hangs up, I stare at my phone in disbelief. Shit, she’s funny. Is Avery interested or not?
Chapter Thirteen
AVERY
I don't tell anybody what I'm doing and none of my housemates are home when the taxi pulls up outside the small terraced house. My hands shake as the doorbell rings and I leap off the sofa, brushing my sweaty palms along my blue dress.
The giddy butterfly sensation in my stomach intensifies as I open the door to Bryn.
Bryn Hughes.
My heart does a tiny somersault with the swarming butterflies.
Rock star.
The mountain of a man who I spent a night with and wish I'd stayed conscious for, looks extraordinary on my doorstep. For a moment, I stare at the smiling mouth, remembering the day he kissed me, and my body heats a few degrees.
My daydreams and memories don't measure up to how goddamn hot this guy is. Bryn’s dark grey shirt stretches across the muscles of the broad chest he once squashed me against, the edges of a black and red tattoo visible where his top button is casually undone. Mountain man Bryn, as solid and imposing as my nickname for him, supercharges my hormones with thoughts of the strength of his arms and what he could do with that mouth.
Excuse me while I fall into a not too delicate heap on the floor in front of him.
Bryn shakes his curled fringe from his eyes. “Hey, cariad.”
Bryn’s voice¸ the way he uses the endearment, disintegrates most of the doubt I'm doing the right thing by agreeing to meet him. The remaining doubt is this 'date' could be all about the sex we missed out on. I can deal with the issue when we reach that point. Because it will be when, not if. Why else would this man want to spend time with an ordinary girl?
“Bryn.”
Each place Bryn’s gaze rests on me heats beneath his attention. I'm wearing my one and only semi-smart dress, deep blue and cut princess line to flatter, the chiffon floating to knee length. “Great to see you again.”
“I hope I'm dressed okay?” I ask, highly doubting I will be amongst the designer guests.
“You look good to me.”
I turn away so he can't see his compliment makes me blush. “Thanks. Come in; I need to grab my bag.”
I step to one side and Bryn follows me into the lounge room, which for once is tidy due to the fact I cleaned it and my housemates have been out all day. By tomorrow morning, things will be different.
Bryn shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and glances around at the worn carpet and chipped plaster on the walls. “Nice place.”
“Liar.”
“I wonder if I'd have lived somewhere like this if I'd gone to uni?”
“Probably. Such a shame you got rich and famous instead.”
He doesn't smile or give a comeback; forehead creased as he looks around at the threadbare brown carpet and tatty blue lounge chairs. “Yeah.”
I head to the kitchen and Bryn follows like a lost puppy. He continues to stare, as if he's landed in a third world country. “Your house is cold.”
“Heating's broken.”
“In this weather? Why don't you fix it?”
“We're waiting for the landlord to sort everything out. He's slow.”
“Not good.”
“Nope.” I pick up the blue bag that matches my dress. The dress and bag I’ve worn once in my life then hung onto in case something formal comes up again. I never thought it would be an occasion like this.
“Are you looking forward to tonight?” he asks.
“Yes and no. I'm still surprised you called
“Why not? Don't you date rock stars? I told you, my prospects are good and…”
“Very funny, Bryn.”
I tap my fingers on the table. Why do I want to see this chick so much? I stamp down the Bryn who wants to see Avery because he missed out on sex with her last time and remind myself I like her for more than that. Talking to Avery is like calling an old friend, an immediate reconnection, and I have no clue why.
“I’ll think about it and call you back,” Avery replies. “Thanks for calling.”
When she hangs up, I stare at my phone in disbelief. Shit, she’s funny. Is Avery interested or not?
Chapter Thirteen
AVERY
I don't tell anybody what I'm doing and none of my housemates are home when the taxi pulls up outside the small terraced house. My hands shake as the doorbell rings and I leap off the sofa, brushing my sweaty palms along my blue dress.
The giddy butterfly sensation in my stomach intensifies as I open the door to Bryn.
Bryn Hughes.
My heart does a tiny somersault with the swarming butterflies.
Rock star.
The mountain of a man who I spent a night with and wish I'd stayed conscious for, looks extraordinary on my doorstep. For a moment, I stare at the smiling mouth, remembering the day he kissed me, and my body heats a few degrees.
My daydreams and memories don't measure up to how goddamn hot this guy is. Bryn’s dark grey shirt stretches across the muscles of the broad chest he once squashed me against, the edges of a black and red tattoo visible where his top button is casually undone. Mountain man Bryn, as solid and imposing as my nickname for him, supercharges my hormones with thoughts of the strength of his arms and what he could do with that mouth.
Excuse me while I fall into a not too delicate heap on the floor in front of him.
Bryn shakes his curled fringe from his eyes. “Hey, cariad.”
Bryn’s voice¸ the way he uses the endearment, disintegrates most of the doubt I'm doing the right thing by agreeing to meet him. The remaining doubt is this 'date' could be all about the sex we missed out on. I can deal with the issue when we reach that point. Because it will be when, not if. Why else would this man want to spend time with an ordinary girl?
“Bryn.”
Each place Bryn’s gaze rests on me heats beneath his attention. I'm wearing my one and only semi-smart dress, deep blue and cut princess line to flatter, the chiffon floating to knee length. “Great to see you again.”
“I hope I'm dressed okay?” I ask, highly doubting I will be amongst the designer guests.
“You look good to me.”
I turn away so he can't see his compliment makes me blush. “Thanks. Come in; I need to grab my bag.”
I step to one side and Bryn follows me into the lounge room, which for once is tidy due to the fact I cleaned it and my housemates have been out all day. By tomorrow morning, things will be different.
Bryn shoves his hands in his trouser pockets and glances around at the worn carpet and chipped plaster on the walls. “Nice place.”
“Liar.”
“I wonder if I'd have lived somewhere like this if I'd gone to uni?”
“Probably. Such a shame you got rich and famous instead.”
He doesn't smile or give a comeback; forehead creased as he looks around at the threadbare brown carpet and tatty blue lounge chairs. “Yeah.”
I head to the kitchen and Bryn follows like a lost puppy. He continues to stare, as if he's landed in a third world country. “Your house is cold.”
“Heating's broken.”
“In this weather? Why don't you fix it?”
“We're waiting for the landlord to sort everything out. He's slow.”
“Not good.”
“Nope.” I pick up the blue bag that matches my dress. The dress and bag I’ve worn once in my life then hung onto in case something formal comes up again. I never thought it would be an occasion like this.
“Are you looking forward to tonight?” he asks.
“Yes and no. I'm still surprised you called
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