Page 80 of Where We Bloom

“Oh, this is no problem. I thought this call might be coming. I’m sorry if I made Billie uncomfortable in any way.”

“It’s not your fault. I’ll give her your number so she can call you and inform you of her preferences.”

“I look forward to that. Thanks, Mr. Gallagher.”

I end that call, then check the time and make one more.

“Anderson,” my architect barks in my ear.

“I want you to build me a library. Today.”

He laughs. “Of course, you do. I can’t do it today.”

I grind my molars together. “When?”

“First, I need information. How big? Are we remodeling existing rooms or adding on to the house? Is this for you?”

I close my eyes. I don’t want to explain any more. I just want it tohappen.

“I’ll get more information and call you back. I want this project to move fast, Anderson.”

“When the helldon’tyou want it to move fast?” He snorts. “Get me more info, and I’ll see what I can do.”

I should pass this along to an assistant, but I want anything I plan for my angel to come from me. Strangely, for me anyway, this isn’t about control. I’ve learned to delegate well over the years and have built skilled and trustworthy teams across several countries.But for Billie? For the woman who has become my everything? Only I can design what I want her to luxuriate in. Only I canensure every chair is as comfortable to read in as the ones in her shop. And only I can guarantee that when she walks intoherlibrary, she feels … cherished. Adored.

Loved.

After two more hours of work, I meet Miller at the car, where he’s waiting with the back door open.

This man knows my schedule better than I do.

Ten minutes later, we pull up to my sister, Skyla, and her boyfriend’s farmhouse.

Beckett Blackwell owns this ranch and the dairy farm on it and does well with the business. He also built eight small cabins in the woods with an incredible view of the mountains to use as vacation rentals, and although they rent well enough, Beckett has discovered that dealing with guests is his least favorite thing in all the world.

So he’s taken them off the rental market, and we’re working to offer them to families with sick children who want to come here on holiday.

I’m providing the charity and the money, and Beckett’s providing the cabins—for a fee of course—and we’re going to build a lodge for more guest suites, a kitchen, and a common area.

“You’re the only bloke I know who would come out to a ranch in a suit,” Skyla says as she steps out onto the porch and grins at me.

“I’ve been working,” I inform her and pull her in for a hug. “No time to change. Where’s your man, then?”

“He’s coming over from the barn,” she replies as her dog, Riley, steps outside with her.

I scratch his head between his ears, and he leans intome, reminding me of my bumble bee and how much she loves to be touched.

I like to be touched.

When she said those words to me in the shower, I felt … shame. Because everything slipped into place at that moment.

She loves sex, but she blooms when she’s snuggled.

She leans into my hand when I cup her cheek.

She can only sleep well when I have my arms wrapped around her.

It made me feel so much shame that I hadn’t picked up on it sooner, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she’s treasured, if she’ll let me.

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