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My gaze tracked down his long, muscular frame. His Burberry coat was open over one of his usual cardigan sweaters. This one was a soft gray like his eyes. His jeans had stress wears in all the right places and a pair of battered Timberlands peeked out from the frayed cuffs. Again, there was an affluence to him that didn’t quite match his artist moniker.

I thought most artists made their money posthumously—unless they were in the city. Maybe Syracuse wasn’t his home either. Maybe a lot of different things. I didn’t really know Callum MacGregor very well.

Well enough to sleep with him.

Well enough to make a baby.

Maybe.

“Ellie?” He stepped closer.

I’d totally zoned out. “Sorry. I’m a bit distracted. Did you want a haircut?” I immediately reached up to sift my fingers through his hair. And I wished I hadn’t. I was used to touching because hair was my job.

Callum wasn’t just a head of hair.

His cedar and brisk winter air scent set me back on my heels. It dragged me back to the festival and his arms around me.

He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing. “I missed you touching me.”

I dropped my hand. “I’m sure you could find another hairdresser a bit closer to you. If you’re looking for a discount, the MoneyMaster coupon expired last week.”

His smile made me light up inside in a way I’d almost forgotten I could

. He had given me that at Christmas. “I can pay full price. Why does everyone think I’m cheap?”

“Because you spend all your dough on hot cars and fancy threads?”

I decided to touch his tweed coat this time. Why, I did not know. It looked soft, and I just wanted to lay my head on it and rest. Not plan or worry or stress for one freaking moment and let someone else take care of me.

Not that he’d offered. Or that he wanted to. Just something about his open, hopeful expression and the fact that he kept coming back for me, time and time again, made me want to trust he’d give me a safe place to land for just a little while.

My mom had left me, but this virtual stranger wanted to be in my world. I couldn’t figure out how to handle it, so I kept screwing it up.

And now I might be screwing up a life that wasn’t even solely my own if I continued on this path.

“Ellie,” he murmured as my chin wobbled. I gripped one of his buttons to keep from letting the tears I didn’t know I’d stored up flow. “What is it?”

I didn’t look up at his face, just stared at his pearlized button clutched between my fingers. “Can we go somewhere?”

“Sure. Of course.” His voice was so gentle and not the least bit judgmental. “Where would you like to go?”

“Not anywhere with a bed,” I said a touch too loudly, squeezing my eyes shut at the muffled laugh I heard from behind me.

“Who needs one of those? I’ve heard Crescent Cove trees are mighty sturdy.”

I shook my head, laughing despite my nerves. And embarrassment. And about fifty other emotions he stirred up in me so easily. No wonder I wanted to flee every time he got too close.

“No beds,” he said low enough for my ears only. “Let’s go for a ride. In a car,” he added for the benefit of my eavesdropping coworkers.

I couldn’t exactly blame them. Apparently, Callum and I were big news in town. I didn’t know why when it came to that either, but I was beginning to think there were a few things I needed to learn more about.

Swallowing deeply, I looked up at Callum. People too.

“Okay. Let me get my jacket.” I turned toward Paisley to ask if it was all right, but she was already waving me off. “Oh, I have Mrs. Bloom coming in.”

She waved me off. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Are you sure?”


Tags: Taryn Quinn Crescent Cove Romance