“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Avery said once they stopped walking.
“Peaceful. I managed to take a walk before everything started today. Wade has quite the spread.”
“Texas has grown on me a little,” Avery admitted. “But I wouldn’t want to live here.”
“City girl?”
“I like where I live. But I don’t think I’ll be there forever.”
She felt Liam’s breath against her ear.
“Where else would you go?”
“Somewhere, anywhere. What about you? Ever wanted to live somewhere different?”
“I haven’t really thought about it. My family is close by, my business is in LA.”
She held his arms, which wrapped around her shoulders, keeping the cool evening air away from her bare skin. “I guess that’s the difference between a close family and what I have.”
“Is it really that bad?”
Avery thought about the measures she’d gone through, marrying Bernie for a short, contracted time for a massive payoff to get out from under her parents’ financial thumbs. “It’s not good.”
“My sister and I are eleven months apart. For a long time people thought we were twins. You’ll love her, and Cassandra . . . that kid has my number.”
“How often do you see them?”
Liam laughed. “They live with me.”
Avery leaned back to look at him. “Really?”
“Michelle’s ex left without financial support. She was out of choices. Not that she needed to ask. I offered.”
“What about your parents? Couldn’t she move in with them?”
Liam’s smile faded. “My mother has Alzheimer’s.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay. Right after Cassandra was born, she was diagnosed. It’s been a slow, steady decline. My dad kept up with her care for a while, but last year we had to hire help during the day so he could work. He encouraged my sister to move in with him, but the stress of a five-year-old is too much day in and day out.”
“I can’t imagine.”
He tilted his head. “My parents love us unconditionally and with every ounce of their being. I can’t imagine that you’ve lived a life without that anchor.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. It no longer rules me. Do I wish it was different? Yes. But it isn’t. Now I take my parents in small doses and leave when it’s unbearable.”
Liam turned her around and rested his hands around her waist. “They’re missing out. You’re a special lady.”
“You hardly know me.”
“That’s changing rapidly. Besides, if I wasn’t figuring that out on my own, your friends have all told me.”
“They’re biased.”
He brushed his hand along her chin and watched his fingers as he traced them down her neck and shoulder. The touch was more intimate than if they were naked and skin to skin.
Avery shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
His eyes smiled, and he leaned closer and touched his lips to hers.
Avery closed her eyes and melted. Like every time he kissed her, there wasn’t a rush or any urgency. Only the movement of his mouth on hers, the slow request for her to open and let him inside. Her body quivered and her mind went blank.
What was it about this man that was so different from any other? Was it the fact that he wasn’t rushing? Or maybe it was the way he slowly ran his hands over her back, as if he were memorizing her. Maybe the difference was how much she knew about him. Since before Bernie, she hadn’t bothered to know more than a first name and a short sexual history. Family history and desires for the future only shortened the time she spent with the previous men in her life.
This one was different.
Liam was different.
Following his leisurely pace, Avery stroked his back and squeezed his shoulders when he nipped at her bottom lip. He heated every cell that begged for his attention.
His fingers squeezed her hips but didn’t move lower. As the bases went, he hadn’t rounded second, and she wanted a home run in the worst way.
Avery pressed closer and knew without any doubt Liam had all the working parts fired up and ready.
Unlike the man holding her, she let her hands drop lower on his hips until his firm ass filled her palms.
Liam stalled, his mouth open over hers, eyes closed. “Careful, Princess.”
The huskiness of his voice empowered her. “Why?”
He gripped her hips and brought her as close as two standing bodies, fully clothed, could get. “My control is painfully close to snapping.”
“Have you considered that I might want that?”
Liam opened his smoky eyes. “I didn’t force my hand at you bringing me here for this.”
She lifted her hand from his butt to his hip. “I know that, Liam.”
There was something he wasn’t saying; she could see it in his gaze.
Noise from the reception cut in through the night. “Now isn’t the time,” he told her.
She wanted to argue but knew he was right. Avery swallowed and shifted her weight.
His grip stopped her. “Never think, for one second, that I don’t want you. That I haven’t dreamt of peeling each layer of your clothing off your skin and kissing every bare spot until you can’t take the torture any longer.”
Her chest lifted with every short breath she took.
He pressed his lips to hers, eyes wide open.
“You’re not like any man I’ve ever met,” she whispered when he released her lips.
Liam smiled as if she’d just given him a gift. “Good.”
Monday was met with a gallon of coffee and a hard-on.
“You mean to tell me you were at Wade Thomas’s ranch the whole weekend?” Michelle stared at him across the table at six in the morning.
“I was.”
“Holy cow. Who is this woman you’re dating?”
Are we dating?
“Avery Grant.” He wondered if that was her maiden name or her ex’s.
“Do you have a picture of her?”
Liam fired up his phone and pulled up a text from Shannon. She’d added him to a group text where she’d sent a dozen pictures taken over the weekend.
He pulled up a shot from during the rehearsal dinner and twisted his phone toward his sister.
Michelle squealed. “Oh my God! That is Wade Thomas.”
Sipping his coffee, he said, “Avery is the blonde standing next to me.”
His sister expanded the picture on the phone and glanced at him. “She’s gorgeous.”
“I noticed that.”
“Her skin is flawless. What is she, twenty-fourish?”
Liam thought about that for a second, did a little math based on the timeline of her past. “I think she’s in her early thirties.”
“Kids?”
“No.”
“Ever married?”
“Once.”
Michelle zoomed out and flipped through the pictures on the thread. “That’s good.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. A woman previously married isn’t rushing to put a ring back on and makes a better decision the second time around.”
Liam opened his mouth to comment and Michelle cut him off.
“But thirty . . . her clock is ticking.”
Liam thought about Avery’s lifestyle. “I don’t think so.”
Michelle looked at him like he was missing a few brain cells.
He avoided the argument and stood to refill his coffee. He had a long weekend’s worth of pushed aside work to get to.
“Who is this?”
He glanced at his phone. “Shannon.”
“She looks like a movie star. Is she?”
“Ex-wife of Paul Wentworth.”
Michelle did a double take. “The governor?”
“Yup.”
“What an idiot.”
Yeah, that’s what Liam thought.
Michelle grinned and hiked a brow. “Looks like someone wants to say good morning to you.”
Liam snatched his phone from his sister and opened his messages.
It was Avery.
I hope you slept well.
He considered lying.
Tossed and turned all night. You?
He sipped his coffee and waited for her reply.
Like a baby.
He shook his head.
Liar.
Good thing I like you, Holt.
The use of his last name made him laugh.
Michelle cleared her throat.
“What?” he asked.
She crossed the kitchen and kissed his cheek. “She’s a lucky woman.”
No . . . he was the lucky one.
Chapter Seventeen
Sheldon walked alongside Avery as she described his childhood home in the way Liam had described it. Once all the walls were stripped of art and knickknacks collected over a lifetime, the lack of upkeep became strikingly clear.
“Any real estate agent worth their salt will tell you to paint all the walls and replace old and worn carpet at the bare minimum. But in the case of this house, I would seriously consider a heavy renovation. The kitchen and bathrooms will cost the most but make the biggest impact when finding a turnkey buyer who will pay top dollar.” Liam’s exact words.
“What did your contractor estimate?”
She told him Liam’s numbers and added that he should expect to spend 20 percent more. Better to come in under budget than over.
Sheldon whistled.
“Consider this. While you might not have had a lot of love for the paintings on the walls, they were done by artists that catch a decent paycheck. The floral pieces in your mother’s sitting room were painted at the turn of the century. The receipt of purchase was found in her files.”
“How much?”
“She spent half a million dollars each, forty years ago. One can only imagine what they will go for now. There is your renovation budget, which will give you a much bigger return on the house.” She paused while standing at the French doors leading to the backyard. “Of course, that means you’ll have to hold on to this place a little longer.”