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Blake parked his car next to Lindsay’s house. By now, many more houses in the street had Christmas decorations and lights and they were a welcoming sight.
Before he could even get out of the car, she’d already jumped out, battle ready, as he could see in the porch light he’d switched on before he’d left earlier that day. For the last half an hour, she’d been quiet, chewing her lower lip, a clear indication she was thinking and probably worrying. And he hated that. Hated that she didn’t share with him what was bothering her.
But it was better than listening to her telling him that what he was feeling wasn’t real. Damn it, he shouldn’t have told her he missed her—it didn’t matter what language he’d used. And he had no right to flirt with her, damn it again.
He knew all too well how feelings could develop in tense situations. That was why what he felt when Lindsay was around, scared the living daylights out of him—he’d never felt like this before.
Still scolding himself, he took her suitcase out of the trunk of the car. And even before he’d closed it again, she’d taken her suitcase and was walking up the stairs. Cussing underneath his breath, he walked into the street to scan the area. This woman would be the death of him yet.
He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to throttle her, or kiss her senseless. And because the latter sounded way too enticing, his best course of action would be to go to bed as soon as he’d checked the doors and windows. But he was hungry and she also hadn’t eaten yet. Food had been the last thing on his mind when he’d left for Bozeman. There was bread and cheese, though...
The bright lights of a car approached. His hand went for his gun under his jacket, and he quickly moved back to the house, closer to Lindsay, who was still in front of the door. But when the car turned into the driveway, he saw it was Lilly, Lindsay’s assistant at the shop. She jumped out with a casserole in her hand.
“Food!” Lilly called out as she walked closer. “Charlie phoned and asked me to pick up something from the deli—this is their delicious chicken pie.”
“Sounds perfect.” Lindsay smiled as she walked towards Lilly. “Thanks for all you’ve done today. If you hadn’t been in the shop, it could’ve been so much worse. I’m so grateful you phoned the Fire and Rescue squad.”
“And Blake—he was there within minutes.” Lilly smiled. “I just wish I could have done more. I’m so sorry about your studio, Linds.” Lilly gave Lindsay a hug. “But Eleanor has already organized for everyone—even though she’s still in Seattle—to come and help with the clean-up. Apparently, they’ll be returning with Charlie and Logan tomorrow.” She turned to Blake. “Do you think the fire department and the police have finished with their investigation?”
“I think so, but they’re still waiting on a final report. We should know more by tomorrow,” he said.
Lindsay hugged her assistant again. “That is so sweet, Lilly, but I’m not sure whether we can do any cleaning up right away. Charlie was going to contact the insurance people—I suppose they’ll need to send someone to assess the damage, as well. The good news is that Charlie thinks we can use the insurance money to make the studio bigger, so it’s not all bad news. The cleaning up should wait until I know more.” She looked at Blake before she continued. “But I do want to open the shop tomorrow.”
Blake gnashed his teeth. “I told you, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The smell of smoke has been bad. Lilly, tell her.”
“I’ve kept the windows open for most of the day, and I had a few diffusers going, Lindsay—that helped,” Lilly said.
Exasperated, Blake looked at Lindsay. “And you do remember there’s a madman out there, intent on hurting you?”
Lindsay’s chin lifted ever so slightly. Blake swallowed his sigh. Of course, she wouldn’t agree with anything he had to say. “There are people around on Saturdays. Lilly will be there, as well.”
Lilly winked at Blake before she turned back to Lindsay. “Well, there will be people to help you tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”
“Thanks, Lilly, but seriously...” Lindsay began, but Lilly stopped her with another hug.
“By this time, you should know this is how we do things in Alisson, Montana,” Lilly teased.
“Thank you.” Lindsay sniffled and looked for a tissue in her pockets. “But don’t you want to come in? There should be wine...”
“Another time. I have a date!”
They waited on the porch and waved as she drove off. With a soft sniff, Lindsay turned away, her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He wanted to pick her up, tell her everything would be okay, but better than most, he knew it wouldn’t be true.
“I’ve bought wine...” he began, and she turned around to face him, her chin already in the air. “And before you say anything,” he quickly said before she could interrupt, “I’ve finished the rest of your wine.”
“But there were quite a few bottles left,” she exclaimed.
“Well,” he said, brushing past her to get to the kitchen, “you were gone for four days.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
He glanced at her. “You really have to ask me that?”
“Yes, I don’t see what the one thing...”
He turned and faced her. “I slept in your bed. You weren’t here and I’ve...”
He didn’t have to finish the sentence. A soft gasp indicated she knew what he was going to say.
“Don’t ask questions you know the answers to. I’ll heat the pie, you get the plates,” he muttered, not looking at her again. He shouldn’t touch her. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
“What about a salad?” she asked.
“Sounds fine.” He knew he sounded short and rude, but rather that than doing what all his instincts were urging him to do: pick her up, take her upstairs, and make love to her for the rest of the night.
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Lindsay made a salad. The simple task took longer than usual; her hands weren’t very steady. He’d missed her—was that what he was he was going to say?
Oh, my goodness. How was she supposed to make a salad and not cut herself after seeing the light in those chocolate brown eyes? Strange currents in the kitchen were making her flustered and excited and nervous—all at the same time. But by some miracle, by the time the microwave oven pinged, indicating the pie was hot, the salad was ready, too.
Blake poured them each a glass of wine before he sat down opposite her.
“Tell me about your plans for selling your oils online.”
She was taking a sip of wine and looked at him over the rim of the glass. “You’re not really interested in oils and creams, are you?”
He looked up. “It’s something to talk about.”
“Why don’t you rather tell me about yourself? You’ve mentioned you grew up in the system. What did you do after school? Did you go to college? And what was your previous job? The one you still seem to be involved in. You know just about everything about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”
Lifting his glass, he took a sip of his wine. “Not much to tell. Boring story. I was in the system until Miss Betty O’Hara saved my sorry ass. When she died, I joined the army. Studied through them, and well, that’s about it.”
He’d used about a minute to sum up his life’s story, but because she knew him by now, she could sense the world of hurt behind his words. Her heart was breaking for the little boy who hadn’t had a home.
“Don’t look at me like that; my life is better than most,” he said. “Tell me about your parents. Charlie mentioned at some point they’d died in an accident?”
She nodded and briefly told him about the accident in which her parents had been killed and Charlie had been injured. “And it was during that time I met Mark.”
He nodded. “You were vulnerable—he took advantage of that.”
“By the time I realized his behavior was abusive, he’d stripped me of my self-confidence. I was at a point where I was agreeing with him how stupid I was—a word he often used. He didn’t like my friends or my sister, so at the time, I hadn’t seen them for over a year.”
“But you managed to walk away,” Blake said, reaching out over the table to pick up her hand. “That was a very brave thing to do.”
She shook her head, looking at their entwined fingers. “I didn’t feel very brave. But Charlie was great.”
“So are you. You’re anything but stupid. Stubborn, ornery, difficult, yes, but not stupid.” He grinned and dropped her hand. He got up. “Why don’t you go up to bed? I’ll clean up here and make sure everything is locked.”
“Ornery? Stubborn, and what was it? Oh, yes, difficult? No wonder you’re still single, if those are the lines you use.”
He turned his back on her. “Lindsay...please go to bed.”
“I’ll help,” she said, and got up.
“It’s better if you don’t.”
She ignored him and picked up her plate. But before she could move, he’d stepped closer and was right in front of her. His eyes were slits, his teeth clenched together. “Please leave.” He tried to take the plate from her but she wouldn’t let go.
“Seriously, Blake, I can help clean the kitchen...” But that was as far as she got.
He swooped down and captured her lips with his before her next breath. This time, fireworks went off behind her eyelids, hot lava exploded inside her, and she let go of the plate so that she could touch him.
But he’d already lifted his head and had the plate in his hand. “Thank you,” he said and put the plate down on the table. “Now, please, beautiful, go up to your room before I pick you up, take you to my bed, and make love to you until neither of us can think straight.”
The words conjured up such a vivid picture of their entwined bodies, a gasp slipped out before she could stop it.
His eyes darkened and he inhaled shakily. “Like you’ve said, this is not a normal situation—and that’s why I think it’s best if you go to bed and let me finish here.”
She turned around and walked out of the kitchen.
Beautiful. He’d called her beautiful. The way he’d said it, the look in his eyes... Whaaa! She grabbed her bag and raced up the stairs. No meditation or diffuser were going to help her sleep tonight.