Blended (Redemption #1) by Sasha Brümmer Read Free Book Online Page A

unraveling on the page in front of me before locking my phone and setting it on my lap. “Does it matter?”
    “Not entirely, but I’ve enjoyed the myriad of emotions crossing your face as you read it.”
    He’s been watching me? I don’t know whether to be creeped out or grateful.
    “Is this the part where I call the cops on a stalking, panty-hoarding asshole?”
    He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey. “No, not one bit.”
    We’re interrupted by a librarian, the petite one from earlier, asking if she can get him anything else this evening before she leaves. He shakes his head and thanks her before she walks over to me.
    “I’m sorry, but it’s two a.m. and we’re closing. I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If you are still interested in the membership, then I can grab you an application on your way out.”
    “Thank you, I think I’d like to take a look at the membership details. An application would be great.”
    Two in the morning? Holy crap. That means that I’ve been sitting here for more hours than I care to count. I glance around the space, and we’re the only three left.
    “Isla,” he says and the petite woman glances over at him.
    “Yes?”
    “Bring her another and clear her tab. Once you’re done, feel free to leave. I’ll be staying a while longer.”
    “Of course, Brass.” I swear that she rolls her eyes before thanking me for coming in and walking back to the bar to fetch me another glass.
    “How . . . ?”
    He grins knowingly at me. “I own the place. You’re welcome to stay and finish your book. I don’t plan on leaving for a few more hours.”
    “Oh. That’s incredibly generous of you, but I’d rather not be in your way.” I go to stand, but he holds up a hand, halting my movements from across the coffee table.
    “Stay.”
    One word.
    One demand.
    I relax against the leather again as Isla brings me a new tumbler. “Thank you.”
    He nods at her dismissively, and she walks away from us and back to the bar where she grabs her sweater and purse before walking out the front door, locking it behind her.
    “You didn’t have to buy my drinks.”
    “Call it an even exchange for pink lace.”
    “I think this one glass of whiskey is more than twice the price of those panties.”
    He shrugs and lifts his right leg, placing his ankle on top of his left knee. “Tell me something about yourself.”
    “About myself? Uhm, my name’s Hadley but . . . I’m not one to give out personal details to a stranger.”
    “Well, Hadley, it’s a pleasure to finally call you something aside from ‘platinum blonde.’ You’ve had my balls in a knot since the elevator ride, so I wouldn’t exactly call myself a stranger.”
    “I’m sure I have.” I’m not subtle when it comes to sex or flirting or hell, telling someone that I want to be ravaged.
    “Cocky. I like it. I’m Waylon Brass, but seeing as I’m rather familiar with your most intimate parts—their scent, at least—you can call me Wade.”
    “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Wade.”
    “As it is you, Hadley. What are you drinking?”
    “It’s a Macallan 10-Year.”
    “Finish that off and I’ll grab you something with a bit more history behind it,” he says as he gets up and moves around the coffee table to stand in front of me. “Come.”
    I stand and place my hand in his offered one before he leads me to the darkened bar area where I watch him pour me a glass of Glenfarclas John Grant 60-Year-Old. His body moves underneath his suit as though every movement is thought out in advance—he’s very sure of himself in a physical way. If he wants to fuck me right here on the bar top, I won’t stop him for a second.
    “What are you doing in Chicago? I thought you worked at Stafford’s?”
    I take a sip before answering him. “Well, you sort of got me kicked out,” I joke, but his face turns serious.
    “I’ll call Lawson and have that changed by tomorrow morning. I won’t be the reason for your