Read Online A Model Romance (True Love Book 3) by Betsy Anne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Betsy Anne
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look up, and I see him walking toward us. I recognize his body, but I never got a chance to really see his face. He was wearing sunglasses the first time we met, and I don’t remember the second encounter at all. Wow, is he gorgeous. He looks like he should be in one of those firemen pin-up calendars. Broad shoulders, dark wavy hair and a chiseled face. He could model in a second. He gets closer and I have a flash of recognition when I see his eyes. They’re a beautiful bright green, and I sense that I remember this from talking to him on the train. Something just feels familiar and comforting about them.
He smiles when he sees Melanie, and then he looks over at me and his face seems to light up when we connect. He has deep dimples, and I remember those, too. He must have made quite an impression on me for these memories to be coming back from my blackout. God, my blackout: I feel my cheeks flush with shame thinking about how I must have looked that morning. That was the last time he saw me.
“’Ello, Melanie,” he says with his chopped accent, “it’s so nice to see you. How’s the wee one?”
Dear God, I’m melting in my seat. I see what Melanie was talking about with his accent. It’s definitely there, but he’s trying to hide it. If there’s anything in the world more appealing that a hot man with a Scottish accent, it doesn’t come to mind right now.
“She’s just fine, Wickham, thank you for asking. Don’t you worry, we know just where she is!” Mel laughs at our painful history of losing her child and him finding her not once, but twice.
“She’s a beauty, she is. I can see that good looks run in the family,” he says, staring into my eyes. I feel sweat begin to bead up on my neck and chest. The crappiest part of being a redhead: emotions show on your skin pretty quickly. My face has to be redder than it was before. It’s burning, so I try to cool it off by jutting out my bottom lip and giving a quick blow. It musses my bangs, but I don’t care. I must look like I’m sitting in a sauna.
“You remember my sister, Rebecca, don’t you?” Mel asks with a bit of a giggle. Neither time that we met would I consider myself at my best.
“Of course. ‘Ello Rebecca.” He clears his throat like he’s attempting to erase the words. “I mean, Becca. You introduced yourself to me on the train with that name, then you said you hated it. Asked me to call you Becca.”
He offers his hand for me to shake. I place mine in his, and it’s warm and rough. Just the way a man’s hands should feel.
“It’s nice to meet you, Wickham. Well, I mean, for real this time.” I sound like a bumbling idiot. I feel so many emotions right now, not the least of which is pure lust. I’m embarrassed, and ashamed as well. “I’m sorry if I was a little out of it when we met on the train. I had been out with friends the night before. That’s not something I do on a regular basis.”
Mel chimes in.
“Yeah, she’s only an amateur alcoholic. We came here today to say thank you for all you’ve done for us. You were kind not to rat out my sister that she had lost Lou that day. I guess I can’t say much on that subject myself, but we felt like we owed you a family apology and a thank you. I am a much more responsible parent than it would appear. My husband, Brian, also sends his thanks and he has invited you to come to the Bears next home game if you’re free.”
I never heard Brian say any such thing. I know what she’s doing, and I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I’ll hug and kiss her when we leave.
“I’m generally off on Sundays, and I’d love to do that. I’m a big fan of the Bears and your husband. Do you go to the games?” he asks, looking at me again.
“I do. Usually I go to help with the kids so Melanie can focus on watching the game, but I do love football.”
He continues to stare at me, and his eyes pierce into my soul. He looks thoughtful as he takes in my face. It almost feels out
He smiles when he sees Melanie, and then he looks over at me and his face seems to light up when we connect. He has deep dimples, and I remember those, too. He must have made quite an impression on me for these memories to be coming back from my blackout. God, my blackout: I feel my cheeks flush with shame thinking about how I must have looked that morning. That was the last time he saw me.
“’Ello, Melanie,” he says with his chopped accent, “it’s so nice to see you. How’s the wee one?”
Dear God, I’m melting in my seat. I see what Melanie was talking about with his accent. It’s definitely there, but he’s trying to hide it. If there’s anything in the world more appealing that a hot man with a Scottish accent, it doesn’t come to mind right now.
“She’s just fine, Wickham, thank you for asking. Don’t you worry, we know just where she is!” Mel laughs at our painful history of losing her child and him finding her not once, but twice.
“She’s a beauty, she is. I can see that good looks run in the family,” he says, staring into my eyes. I feel sweat begin to bead up on my neck and chest. The crappiest part of being a redhead: emotions show on your skin pretty quickly. My face has to be redder than it was before. It’s burning, so I try to cool it off by jutting out my bottom lip and giving a quick blow. It musses my bangs, but I don’t care. I must look like I’m sitting in a sauna.
“You remember my sister, Rebecca, don’t you?” Mel asks with a bit of a giggle. Neither time that we met would I consider myself at my best.
“Of course. ‘Ello Rebecca.” He clears his throat like he’s attempting to erase the words. “I mean, Becca. You introduced yourself to me on the train with that name, then you said you hated it. Asked me to call you Becca.”
He offers his hand for me to shake. I place mine in his, and it’s warm and rough. Just the way a man’s hands should feel.
“It’s nice to meet you, Wickham. Well, I mean, for real this time.” I sound like a bumbling idiot. I feel so many emotions right now, not the least of which is pure lust. I’m embarrassed, and ashamed as well. “I’m sorry if I was a little out of it when we met on the train. I had been out with friends the night before. That’s not something I do on a regular basis.”
Mel chimes in.
“Yeah, she’s only an amateur alcoholic. We came here today to say thank you for all you’ve done for us. You were kind not to rat out my sister that she had lost Lou that day. I guess I can’t say much on that subject myself, but we felt like we owed you a family apology and a thank you. I am a much more responsible parent than it would appear. My husband, Brian, also sends his thanks and he has invited you to come to the Bears next home game if you’re free.”
I never heard Brian say any such thing. I know what she’s doing, and I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I’ll hug and kiss her when we leave.
“I’m generally off on Sundays, and I’d love to do that. I’m a big fan of the Bears and your husband. Do you go to the games?” he asks, looking at me again.
“I do. Usually I go to help with the kids so Melanie can focus on watching the game, but I do love football.”
He continues to stare at me, and his eyes pierce into my soul. He looks thoughtful as he takes in my face. It almost feels out
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