Her Name Is Trouble: A small-town contemporary romance (The Daimsbury Chronicles Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

thanks to her mother’s coaching, but put her in flats and she’d trip over a cordless phone. With her paltry money, though, second-hand sneakers from Oxfam had proved all she could’ve afforded during her last trip to London.
    Missy stiffened her spine and forced another smile. She placed the basket on the coffee table and wrung her now-empty hands. “These are for you. To, um, say sorry for the other day.”
    He smiled, and all her marbles scattered. Still so much the sight she had seen that magical evening with him...
    “You didn’t have to—”
    “Reckon I did!”
    He chuckled. “Okay. Then thank you. Why don’t you sit down?”
    She glanced at the high-backed sofa and dropped her weight into it. Habit forced her to scoot to the very edge so she could cross her feet at the ankles—never at the knees, as it had been drilled into her, unless she wanted a network of varicose veins on her legs.
    The silence preyed on her nerves, and like it always inevitably happened, to her mother’s great chagrin, her mouth opened of its own accord to spew words.
    “I hope the cookies came out good. I mean, I tasted them, of course, but I don’t know if you’ll like them, reckon, there could be too much sugar. You don’t eat sugar, do you?” She smiled hard to stop herself from blubbering.
    He glanced at the basket. “I’m sure they’re good.”
    The reserved tone struck her. She’d always known him to have a sunny personality, so why the chill now? Then it hit her and she almost slapped her forehead.
    “Oh, they’re gluten-free.”
    His head jerked up. “Pardon me?”
    “I...I know you can’t eat gluten, so I made those myself. Used sorghum flour and xanthan gum that I found in the restaurant’s pantry. So, um, they’re safe. For you, I mean.”
    He stared at her for so long, she wondered if she had a wart on her nose. “What?”
    Luke huffed and shook his head. “You went to all that trouble?”
    She shrugged, uncomfortable at the awe in his voice. “Well, you can’t eat regular cookies, so if I wanted to bring you cookies, I had to make sure you could eat them, know what I mean?”
    He laughed then, the sound deep, rich, and soothing. Like decadent chocolate fudge licked off a spoon. Better yet, licked off his hair-free pecs and the dips and ridges of his eight-pack abs—
    Get a grip on yourself! A hot blush flamed through her and singed her cheeks.
    Luke picked up a thin mint and bit into it. She almost combusted on the spot when he darted his tongue out to catch the crumbs that had stuck to his upper lip. The moan of pleasure that rumbled from his throat shattered what sense remained in her; she sat there gawping at him like a prissy, convent-raised schoolgirl catching her first glimpse of a man doing a strip tease in front of her.
    “These are delicious, Missy.”
    Lord, he could say her name all day long on repeat and she’d die and go to Heaven.
    Except that it’s not your name...
    The realisation threw a bucket of ice-cold water onto her heated thoughts and she sobered on the spot.
    “Missy,” he said. “I still don’t know your full name.”
    She licked her dry lips and pulled in a deep breath. “It’s Taylor. Missy Taylor.”
    He paused with a cookie halfway to his mouth. “Taylor?”
    “A very common name in the south. Why?” Attack would be the best defence.
    He seemed to ponder her answer. “And you’re from Texas?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “So what brought you here?”
    She trilled a soft laugh. “You don’t beat around the bush.”
    He lifted his shoulders. “See no reason for it, really.”
    “Long story short, I hooked up with a boy, came to Europe to backpack with him—” she didn’t add that the backpacking took place in world-famous clubs, “—and we parted ways in London. One day, I lost all my belongings, and London being such an expensive city, I hitchhiked my way out and ended up here, where Ben and Jari took me on as a charity case.”
    He frowned. “That’s not