Outlier (Daydreamer, #3)

by Susie Tate

The first time I saw Mike Mayweather was at Buckingham Manor, and he was carrying a hedgehog in his bare hands.

But it was still a waste because the woman’s personality was, well, non-existent. Her nickname was dead-on accurate; she was the absolute definition of an ice princess. Not my style at all. Unfortunately, for whatever fucked-up reason, she had gotten it into her head that I was her style. Even that day when I’d stormed into Felix’s office to bollock them all for what they’d done to my sister, even then, distracted as I was by my anger, I’d noticed her staring at me. Christ, the woman could stare. It was seriously creepy if you asked me.

“I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole. You’re beautiful, and yes, maybe my body did react when I saw you half-naked, but just because I had a physiological response to you doesn’t mean I would be tempted to ever touch you. I like my women warm, cute, kind, able to express actual emotion and equipped with a personality. You… you’re like a beautiful vase—great to look at but empty inside.

I didn’t look back, but I should have. I should have bloody well looked back.

His eyes, his beautiful eyes, were so full of disgust. He was disgusted… by me.

Which was worse: a stuck-up, upper-class, cold, rich woman who “wanted a bit of rough,” as he put it, and felt nothing, or a weird, hedgehog-obsessed, neuro-diverse one who felt everything and fell in love with a man who hates her?

The truth was that I was ashamed of how much my family hated me.

“I should have been kinder when I turned you down.” Vicky just shrugged, which pissed me off even more. “It’s not your fault,” she told me in a neutral tone. “A lot of people are mean to me. I’m told I can be extremely irritating.”

White hot anger shot through me at her words. “Who the fuck is mean to you?” I said with that growl back in my voice now. She frowned up at my left ear as if confused by my words. “Mr. Mayweather⁠—” “Mike,” I corrected her. “Er… Mike.” Hearing my name on her lips was something I didn’t realise I needed until that very moment, but it shot through me like a knife. “I can be an exceptionally annoying person. I don’t read people well, and I very often insult people. Thus, people are inevitably… well, mean. It’s not a⁠—” She broke off as I took another step towards her, saying in a low voice, “Baby, I asked who was mean to you.”

breath for her answer. “I… yes, but…” she paused for a moment. “It has to be a tight hug.” I smiled as I closed the distance between us. “Got it. Tight hug.”

“So Vicky’s had a raw deal overall, and I’m simply not prepared to let it continue. I want that girl to have what she wants. I want her to have everything she wants. And as I’m sure you’re aware, Michael Mayweather, she wants you.”

“You’ve got a deal,” I said. I didn’t realise at the time, but I would come to regret those words more than anything else I’d ever said in my whole life.

“Kissing you makes me feel like I’m…” I needed to find the words to describe the feeling. I wanted to be accurate. “Like I’m burning from the inside out. Like I’m finally breathing after years of feeling suffocated. Like I’m in pain but a good pain. Kissing you silences the noise in my head and that’s never happened before, not to me.”

And after that description you gave me, I’m using all of my self-control not to pick you up off that counter, carry you up to my bed, and make you mine in every other way there is.” I smiled at him. “Oh, that sounds great. Let’s do that.” He groaned. “Baby, please.

“Different very good. Being in this house feels like being hugged all the time. It feels calming.”

“You could have anyone you wanted,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “You realise that, right?”