Page 6 of Awaken My Heart

“Here I am, in the flesh.” Her head tilts as she gazes up at me. “Just who has been talking about me?”

“My granddaughter. Taylor.”

And fuck if that doesn’t make me feel like a damned old man.

chapter

five

Emma

It’s like my mind conjured him up out of thin air.

One minute I was on the stage, having a dance break while simultaneously fantasizing about the grumpy silver fox from the bar, the next minute he was standing in front of me. That wasn’t even the first time I’ve had dirty thoughts about him since our first encounter. I’m embarrassed to say he’s already been the cause of a battery change in my favorite toy.

It’s inexplicable to me, this draw I feel to him. He’s not even nice.

But there he is, looking just as finger-licking good as he did the other night. His massive thighs are encased in his worn jeans. He’s got work boots on, and I don’t even want to begin to understand why I think those are sexy. But the pièce de resistance is how he’s got his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing corded forearms smattered with brown hair. It makes me wonder if his chest is furred.

Wait.

His words permeate my lust-fueled brain. Did he just say granddaughter?

This is Taylor’s grandfather?

“You’re Taylor’s grandfather?” I ask, repeating my thoughts out loud.

He crosses his beefy arms over his thick chest. “I am.”

I frown.

“We’re supposed to meet about the set design,” he says. “I just wanted you to know I’ll have it all under control. I can look up design ideas online and get you whatever you need.”

Whatever I need. The deep rumble of his voice is like a caress to my wanton skin. My nipples pebble in my bra.

The tone and sound of his voice might be arousing, but his words are downright annoying. I release a tight laugh. “Mr. Whitmore, is it?”

“Yes. Whitmore. Bram.” He shrugs. “Taylor calls me Pops.”

“That’s not how this works. I’m the director, this is my show and I like to do things my way. You are welcome to volunteer your time and skills to help with the set, but I’ve built them on my own before.” I lick my lips. “I’m pretty hands on with my productions.”

His eyes flare and his jaw tenses. “I can work from drawn designs too if you feel like you need to be in control of the design.”

I shake my head. “No, I mean I’ll work with you.”

“Absolutely not,” he says.

My brows raise. “Wow. Are you some kind of sexist, Mr. Whitmore? Is that the problem? Afraid to let a woman get near your tools?”

He snorts. “No, I’m not a fucking sexist.” He rakes his fingers through that silver-threaded hair. “I just meant that I’m not bringing all my equipment up here. I have a workshop at home. Doesn’t make sense for me to haul it up here where kids could get their fingers sliced off.”

My uterus tightens uselessly. Yes, his concern for the children is beyond attractive. And objectively speaking my body is recognizing he would be a great option to build a family with. But I’m not looking for that. And couldn’t have it if I were. Not to mention, this man loathes me for whatever mysterious reason.

So anthropology and biology can just take a number.

Also, I might be physically attracted to this giant of a man, but so far his personality is lacking for my tastes.

“I can come to you. That’s no problem,” I chirp, pasting on my biggest smile.