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Thursday afternoon, Lindsay left a meeting she’d just had with a new oil supplier, a relieved smile on her face. She’d seen quite a number of suppliers over the last two days but this one ticked all the boxes. They had their own organic farmlands and they set the standard for farming and distilling essential oils. The oils they produced were pure, derived naturally through a specific program. She also liked their business ideas—from sustainably sourcing rare botanicals to uplifting local communities, to going above and beyond in complying with local environmental rules.
It was so enriching to be talking about the wonders of essential oils with people who were as excited as she was about the product. And the added bonus? It took her mind away from constantly worrying about what Mark was planning next.
And of course, it kept her from checking her phone for messages from Blake at all hours of the day or night. Since Sunday evening, she hadn’t heard from him again. Not that she’d wanted to...
Okay, so not true. She should at least be honest with herself. She’d wanted to hear from him, wanted to know how he’d slept in her bed. Had he been thinking about her? Did he still miss her? And she wanted to tell him how special she thought the French version of “I miss you” was. She’d picked up her phone so many times to tell him, but every time she’d put it away again. If he’d wanted to talk to her, he’d have texted or phoned.
And she also knew flirting with Blake would only lead to heartache. The last thing she should do at this point in her life was fall for someone who so obviously wasn’t interested in anything permanent.
Checking her watch, she hastened towards the exit of the building. Charlie should be waiting for her outside. Logan was treating them all to another scrumptious lunch—he’d promised this morning. Over the past few days, her sister hadn’t let her out of her sight.
As she stepped out of the building, she saw Logan’s car. Charlie was standing beside the vehicle and the moment she saw her, she waved. But something was wrong. She could see it on her sister’s face.
“What happened?” she asked as she neared the car.
Charlie gave her a quick hug. “Hi, Linds. Come on, get in the car. We’ll talk on the way.”
She’d expected to see Eleanor, Brooke, and Connor in the car, but there was no sign of them.
“What happened?” she asked again, her voice not quite steady. Whatever it was, Mark had something to do with it, she just knew it.
Charlie pulled out of the parking space into the traffic. “Everything is okay, nobody was hurt but...Blake has just phoned me. There was a fire in your shop and...”
Lindsay heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. Fire. In the shop.
“Blake will be waiting for you at the airport in Bozeman. The rest of us will be back tomorrow. I feel so bad to let you go back by yourself, but Eleanor and Brooke took Connor to the zoo, and Logan is in the middle of—”
Lindsay quickly touched Charlie’s arm. She’d disrupted everyone enough over the past few days. “I’ll be fine.” She shut out everything else and cleared her head. Think. First things first. She had to fly back to Bozeman today. “I have to book a plane ticket...”
“Check your phone—Blake said he’d get it and send you the details.”
Lindsay opened her emails and there it was—she was checked in already with an electronic boarding pass. The surge of adrenaline left her, leaving her feeling drained. Of course, she would already have her ticket. This was what Blake was good at. He fixed things. “The fire—when did it happen?”
“Apparently late morning. Lilly had been on lunch, and when she returned, she smelled smoke. The fire started in your studio, and fortunately, because Lilly immediately phoned Alisson’s Fire and Rescue squad and Blake was close by, it didn’t spread. But...I’m sorry, Linds, but it sounds as if your studio is ruined.”
“And just when I’ve finally discovered the right suppliers,” Lindsay said, dumbfounded.
“Let’s be positive.” Charlie briefly touched Lindsay’s hand. “You’ve been talking about expanding your studio for such a long time. Remember we have insurance—for the building and the contents. I’ll contact them and get the ball rolling. You may finally be able to get your dream studio. I know it’s not easy, but try and see this as a blessing in disguise.”
“The fire...it’s Mark,” Lindsay said. “I’m sure of it.”
“It may be. But it could also be faulty electrical wiring. Remember, it’s an old building. Let’s first find out what the Fire and Rescue people have to say.”
They drove to the airport in silence. Lindsay felt like bursting into tears, but she swallowed the lump in her throat. Upsetting Charlie was the last thing she wanted to do.
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Blake was at the airport, talking on his phone to the fire chief when Lindsay’s plane landed. He kept an eye on the plane as he spoke. “So you’re sure it was arson?”
“We have to wait for the investigators to finalize their report before I can make an official statement, but there were indications it was arson. For instance, we found two clear points of origin, one of the things that usually suggests the fire has been set deliberately. But I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks, Chief—I appreciate your call.”
They finished the call just as passengers began to disembark from the plane. Blake put his phone away and walked to arrivals to wait for Lindsay.
He scanned the area while waiting, but he didn’t see anyone resembling Taylor. There was no doubt in his mind Taylor was behind the fire in Lindsay’s studio—a sure way to get Lindsay to return to Alisson. Taylor seemed to be always two steps ahead, and he would’ve checked flights to Bozeman today and would probably know exactly when Lindsay would be arriving.
It was just after five, the sun had set, and by the time they’d be on the road to Alisson, it would be dark. Earlier he’d also spoken to Jim, the chief of police in Livingston who’d helped them on Sunday. Jim had agreed to check cars driving through Livingston, at least until Blake and Lindsay were safely back in Alisson.
Taylor’s actions were escalating, one of the reasons Blake was glad Lindsay was coming home. Taylor was waiting to strike again, he could feel it, and he wanted her close to him when that happened.
Passengers were finally coming through the doors. His heart kicked against his ribs. Any minute now, he’d see her again. And there she was, helping an older woman with her cart. He exhaled slowly. Typical Lindsay. A nurturer. Always giving a helping hand. He remembered the scene in her shop when she took her customer to the mirror, making her feel good about herself.
Another couple rushed forward to help Lindsay and they took the cart from her. They were obviously here to pick up the older woman. As they left, Lindsay looked up and caught his eye. She was clutching her bag, looking beautiful and a little apprehensive.
His feet finally listened to the messages from his brain and he moved forward. For the life of him, at this moment, he couldn’t remember any of the reasons why he hadn’t talked to her or texted her again after Sunday. At the time, he’d thought he was doing the right thing. Now it sounded ridiculous.
She was also moving towards him, and within seconds, he was right in front of her. With a soft curse, he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair, drinking in her presence, her softness, her scent.
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Lindsay clung to Blake. She had no idea what his hug meant, if it meant anything at all, but for the first time since she’d heard about the fire, her shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Thank you for picking me up,” she said softly, and pulled out of his arms. If she stayed there a minute longer, she might never want to leave.
“Of course,” he said and took her suitcase. “Do you need anything from the store before we leave?”
“Maybe milk and bread...”
But he was shaking his head before she’d finished. “I’ve bought the necessary; we should be okay for a few days.”
She was irked because, while she was nearly hyperventilating after the hug, he seemed totally unaffected by it, and to add to her irritation, he’d again done things she could do herself.
Lifting her chin, she grabbed her suitcase from him. “It has wheels. I can easily pull it myself. There was a fire in my shop. That doesn’t mean I’m helpless all of a sudden.” And she took off, dragging her suitcase behind her. Seconds later, she stopped. She had no idea where Blake had parked.
He took her hand. “This way,” he said gravely but his eyes were laughing at her.
As they walked towards the parking area, she sighed, feeling slightly foolish. “I didn’t mean to snap, but you do have a tendency to take over. I’ve been doing things on my own for quite some time now.”
He didn’t say anything, just made way for them through the throng of people walking in all directions.
She looked at him but he ignored her and simply kept walking. “I probably owe you quite a lot of money by now. Please let me know what how much I owe you for the plane ticket and everything you’ve bought for the house,” she said.
But instead of answering her, he laced his fingers with hers and kept on walking. They were getting on an escalator, and she pulled her hand out of his to lift her suitcase with two hands.
Again, without saying a word, he picked up her suitcase and took her hand again.
“Seriously, Blake...” she began hotly, but they were at the top of the escalator, and again ignoring her remark, he lengthened his stride as they began walking again.
They reached his car minutes later.
Miffed, she walked to the passenger side. “I could easily have asked Lilly to pick me up. It’s quite clear you don’t want to be here...”
He was there before her and opened the car door. “And I can open my own damn door,” she muttered as she got in.
Pressing his lips tightly together, he closed the door and walked over to the driver’s side. Within seconds, he was behind the wheel and started the car.
“Okay, you don’t want to talk? Fine by me...”
Cursing under his breath, he turned to her.
“You do know you talk way too damn much, don’t you?”
Indignantly, she inhaled, but before she had time to say anything, his hand snaked around her neck and he pulled her closer. She just had time to see his eyes flash before his lips claimed hers in a searing kiss.
Stars exploded behind her eyes and she grabbed hold of his arms. His mouth was warm, urgent, ravaging hers, while his beard against her skin reminded her of the previous time he’d kissed her.
For a moment she was so stunned, she couldn’t react, but her body had no problem and responded with joy. Before she could properly process what was happening, her blood had heated to boiling point, her breasts felt heavy, and she was very glad she was sitting down. Standing would definitely have been a problem.
Quite content and shamelessly eager, her tongue met his, and he deepened the kiss. Oh. My. Word. Nobody, but nobody had ever kissed her like this before.
He lifted his head, his breath warm on her face, if a little uneven. With an oath, he turned to the front and quickly pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have done that. I’m...I have to protect you and I can’t do that when I...we...kiss.”
Blindly, she stared out of the window—speaking was impossible. Outside, it was dark already and bright lights flashed past her. She touched her lips and closed her eyes. What the man could do to her with just a kiss...
You are missing from me. He’d just kissed her as if he’d really meant the text he’d sent her last Sunday. But then she hadn’t heard from him again, but at the airport he’d first hugged her and then kissed her—what did it mean? Did it mean anything?
Swallowing a groan, she inhaled deeply. This was all very temporary, she shouldn’t forget that.
As she’d seen on Sunday already, Blake was a good driver and he deftly maneuvered the car in the traffic. Turning her head slightly, she looked at his hands on the steering wheel. He had beautiful hands. Big. Long fingers. And oh boy, did he know what to do with those hands.
Heat crawled up her neck and she closed her eyes again. Oh, my goodness. She was nearly hyperventilating merely looking at his hands—seriously, she was twenty-six, not sixteen.
Minutes later, they were on the interstate and the traffic was slightly better. He put the radio on, reached out, took her hand, and kept both their hands on his leg.
“The fire in your shop was probably Taylor’s way of making sure you return to Alisson. He seems to be two steps ahead all the time, and I’m frustrated. Don’t ask me why, but I need to do something, even if it’s only to buy milk and bread. And I know I have no right, but at this moment I simply have to touch you.” And to her utter astonishment, he lifted her hand and pressed his mouth against her fingers.
“Blake...”
He gave a cheeky grin. “On the bright side—I’ve discovered the perfect way to shut you up.” He chuckled.
She inhaled, ready to explode, but then the realization of how totally she’d overreacted over something trivial really dawned on her. Sheepishly, she smiled at him. “I overreacted and I’m sorry about that, but I do want to pay you back, okay?”
“I’m staying at your house for free, so the least I could do is buy food now and again.”
“Having to look after me can’t be what you want to be doing with your time...” she began, but he turned his head and the heat in his eyes promptly dried up her words.
He didn’t say anything, just laced his fingers with hers. Heat spread through her insides. Oh, my goodness.
“Tell me what you know about the fire,” she got out. She was supposed to be upset, freaked out, and angry, but look at her. She was nearly salivating because a man had kissed her.
But oh, what a kiss.
And now they were driving back to her house. Where they’d be alone for the rest of the night. She rolled the window down a bit. Icy-cold air hit her hot face, and she closed the window again.
“Too hot?” Blake asked and fiddled with the console of the car. Cooler air filled the car.
She glanced at him. His eyes were on the road, but the corner of his mouth was turned upwards ever so slightly.
“It’s hot in the car,” she said.
Again, he lifted her hand and kissed her fingers.
“Not helping,” she whispered.
“I know. Fortunately, I’m sitting down,” he said.
Without any conscious decision on her part, her eyes dropped to his lap.
“Yeah, it’s hot in the car.” He grinned. He’d obviously seen her noticing his desire.
She tried to pull her hand from his, but he glanced at her. “Don’t, please? Told you I need to touch you.”
Slowly she exhaled. It was time to talk about this. “It’s... Our reactions are only because of the weird situation we’re in. You know that, don’t you? It’s quite normal for two people thrown together in such a tense situation to...well, maybe, develop feelings for... To develop feelings. But it’s not real; it’s only because of the circumstances. Once Mark is caught, you will disappear, as you tend to do, and life will return to normal.”
He didn’t answer, just gave her another enigmatic look. The next minute, he bent forward and turned the volume up. “Isn’t this the song you danced to the other day? ‘Crazy Beautiful’—is that the title?”
“Yeah, it is. But I wouldn’t have thought you listen to country music.” She grinned.
“I don’t usually, but since I’ve seen you dancing to the tune, I’ve heard it again a few times.”
...Beautiful to me, the singer crooned.
“Beautiful to me,” Blake murmured the words, glancing at her.
She inhaled shakily. What the man could do to her with just a look. Talk. She should talk. The fire. There were still so many unanswered questions. That was what they should be talking about. “Tell me about the fire, please? The shop—any damage there?” she asked.
“No damage in the shop, fortunately. The door to the studio probably needs to be replaced—you’ll have to see. But the smell will be bad for a couple of days.” He then told her about his conversation with the fire chief.
“So, it was definitely arson?” she asked.
“They’re waiting for the official report, but that’s what it looks like, yes.”
“The studio—is it bad?”
“You should prepare yourself for the worst. It’s a mess. What the fire hadn’t destroyed, the water probably did. There may be some jars you could salvage, but I doubt it.”
Lindsay had to swallow a few times to get rid of the lump in her throat. She wanted to stamp her feet and shout out her frustration, but it wasn’t going to help anyone. Nor was crying going to achieve anything. Charlie had mentioned the insurance, the possibility of planning the studio she wanted.
By the time they drove into Alisson, she’d planned a whole new studio in her head.