Crazy for Loving You A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy - Pippa Grant Page 0,84
so hard I can’t see my life without West in it.
And she thinks I don’t know what she’s thinking.
But I do.
And I need a paper bag.
Because for once, she might actually be psychic.
Psychic.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, and I lunge for my phone.
It’s all suddenly crystal clear.
I just need a few hours to prove it.
Thirty-One
West
The storm’s rolling in hard and heavy tonight, and I’m mentally going through the condo renovation I’m helping a buddy with. Pretty sure I remembered to seal all the windows, but I’ll need to go check it out in the morning after the storm passes.
I’ve barricaded myself and Remy in the Pepto Bismol room—the one Daisy called the Strawberry Daiquiri suite—and I’m debating texting her to ask if the community has bad weather sirens—and which room is safest in a tornado—when there’s a knock at the door.
I watch, and the lock unlocks, the door cracks open, and I catch sight of a blue eye and dangling purple hair. “Come quick. My grandmother’s in the shower and my mother’s having a video call with a gallery up in Atlanta.”
Fuck. Her grandmother is stuck here.
I need to prepare some contingency plans. “Go where?”
“My wing. Security’s better there.”
“Tornado shelter?”
“I have four. My staff will keep us separate from Mom and the Graminator if anything worse develops, but the weather reports say the storm’s weakening fast.”
I’m not actually surprised Daisy checked the weather.
But I am worried about how much I want to go with her. Without Remy. And there’s not much about my sleep shorts that’ll hide how I’m feeling.
But I grab the sleeping baby and a book and follow her down the hallway, watching her hips swing in those pink velour pants and that strip of skin low on her back flash beneath her short black T-shirt. Our window to sneak out of here is short.
And I have to get my cock under control.
“Sorry about my mom,” she whispers. “You were awesome. And I told my grandmother you know what her Achilles’ heel is, so she should leave you alone lest you turn her to a pile of dust and ash. Also, I found something. You should probably see it.”
Remy half-coos in his sleep.
Daisy picks up the pace, and soon we’re rounding the top of the D and coming to a stop at the wall at the end of the corridor.
Logically, I know her bedroom is on the other side of that wall.
Practically, we’re at a dead end.
She flashes a grin back at me. “Want to see something cool?”
Without waiting for an answer, she leans into the corner.
There’s a subtle click, and a secret door opens.
“Okay, yeah, that’s cool.” I follow her inside, but we’re not in her bedroom. We’re in a massive library.
Rather than the typical billionaire home library with dark shelves and leather-bound books and priceless artwork, though, Daisy’s library has watercolors I don’t recognize and white shelves filled with worn paperbacks. These books have been read. And loved. I angle closer, looking at the titles.
Romance novels.
My sisters are going to love her.
If she’s serious. If she’ll let me stay in Remy’s life.
If this thing I’m feeling is mutual.
I’m attached, and I don’t want to get unattached. And legally speaking, I don’t have to.
I can be a part of Remy’s life. Forever.
“Have you read all of these?” I ask.
“All but those.” She points to the shelves around the white marble fireplace. “I spend a lot of time on airplanes, and sometimes I can’t sleep after business calls around the world in the middle of the night, so I…anyway. It’s my little secret.”
“That you read romance novels?”
“That I read.” She grins and winks, but I don’t believe for a second that she hasn’t been impacted by people’s opinions of her.
I turn away from the shelves and take stock of the rest of the room, because the idea of Daisy as a secret romantic who spends hours in here, reading and dreaming of finding her Prince Charming is too much to handle tonight.
I’ve hoped before.
Hoped, and loved, and lost.
With women who weren’t the fascinating, intricate puzzle that is Daisy Imogen Carter-Kincaid.
The rest of her library is exquisite. Pine wood flooring. Overstuffed chairs the color of the ocean. A fresco ceiling painted with a young girl dancing with unicorns. Daisies worked into the wide plaster trim along the ceiling and around the doorways. Little touches of femininity everywhere, from the heart-shaped sconces on the plaster wall to the delicate pink glass flowers on the white marble fireplace mantle.