Page 66 of Where We Bloom

When I look over at Connor, he’s watching me with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. He’s in navy slacks and a light blue button-down. His sleeves are rolled almost to his elbows, and his top two buttons are undone. His dark hair is tousled, likely from pushing his hands through it throughout the day.

He’s so fucking handsome. So tall and broad and muscular. He could give Henry Cavill a run for his money, and that’s saying a lot.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be bossy about holiday decor. It’s just really the perfect spot for a tree.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” His lips pull up at the sides, the way they do when I amuse him. I’ve learned that full smiles from this man are rare, earned, and spectacular. He pulls one hand out of his pocket and holds it out for me. Without hesitation, I cross to him and slide my palm against his, loving the way his warm hand engulfs my own. “Do you want a tour then, angel?”

“Sure, I’ll take a tour.”

He kisses my forehead—forehead kisses arenotoverrated. If anything, they’re underrated and should be doled out more often—and then leads me through the house. The kitchen is any chef’s dream. I’mnota chef, but if I were, I’d want to cook in there all day. Again, I can picture myself in there with my mom and Birdie and my girls baking holiday cookies, but I press my lips together, keeping that thought to myself.

“This is my home office,” he says, pointing at an open doorway as we walk down the hall, and I peek in to see a massive desk with both a laptop and a desktop computer, two possibly thirty-four-inch monitors, a wall of books, and more windows with a view of the mountains. “There are three guest bedrooms and bathrooms on this floor.”

With that, he leads me to the stairs and shows me more guest rooms, a fully equipped home gym—Iknewhe worked out—and another office that looks like it’s never used, given the empty desktop.On the opposite side of the catwalk is the primary suite, and it takes up the entire second level of this side of the house.

“I remember glimpses of this room,” I murmur as I walk through and drag my hand over the cream comforter. The windows are framed with pretty beige drapes. A closet the size of my entire house makes me salivate. How did I miss that last time? Even drugged, I should have noticed my dream closet.

Attached is another lounging space with a deep-cushioned sofa, a television, and more bookshelves.

“You’re a bookworm,” I say, turning to Connor in surprise.

“I like to read,” he replies, pushing his glasses up his nose, and it makes me grin.

“We have something in common.”

“We have plenty in common, bumble.”

My eyes skim over the titles. It seems my Irishman enjoys thrillers and fantasy, which shouldn’t surprise me, but if I’m being honest, it really does.

“You read Nalini Singh?”

“I do. Have you?”

“Have I? Oh my God, she’s fucking brilliant.”

“Come on, let’s complete this tour, and we can talk books later.”

I press my lips together—holy shit, reader Connor just totally upped the sexy factor here—and follow him to the bathroom, which is more beautiful than I remember. The shower is big enough for a party of six, with glass walls and a beautiful mosaic that mirrors themountains outside. The double vanity is marble, and there’s a soaking tub that’s … full.

“Did you leave the water in the tub when you left today?” I ask him. “With bubbles?”

“I’ve never used this tub,” he says with a half smile, pulling me against him, my back to his front. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck, making my nipples pucker and my core tighten.

“Then how?”

“I have staff here,” he murmurs. “And I messaged ahead. I want you to get in this tub and soak for a bit. Do you want wine?”

“No, thank you. No alcohol ever again. At least, not for a good while.”

He sighs against me and peppers two more kisses on my skin. “I’ll get you something else, then. Get comfortable, angel.”

After pulling away, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, and I stare at the tub. He had someone fill it, just for me? How many people work here? Why doesone personneedstaff?

“Billionaires,” I mutter as I carefully take off my Dior dress and hang it on the hook behind the door. I remove my matching pink bra and panties, then find a hair tie in my handbag, which I’m glad I hadn’t set down anywhere else in the house. After securing my hair up, I slip into the steaming water and sigh as it envelops me.

Oh holy hell. This is luxurious.

Maybe I need to invest in a hot tub. Maybe a good soak each night would help me sleep better.

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