Three Simple Rules (Blindfold Club 1)

“I think so. He . . .” I wasn’t sure what kind of conversation I could have with Blake now. We used to feel comfortable talking about anything, and now it was painfully awkward. “I like him.”

“Okay, well, that’s good.”

Calling him hadn’t been a great idea. I struggled to find something else to say. “Where are you staying since you and Amy called it quits?”

It was deathly quiet. Had the call dropped out? I looked at the screen on my cellphone, and it said we were still connected. “Blake?”

“She took me back.”

Oh, did she? I shouldn’t have cared. I had a boyfriend I’d just spent the weekend having all kinds of sex with. Blake was my friend. Shouldn’t I want him to be happy? Despite all that, it got under my skin.

“Oh.” That was literally the only thing I could say.

It made me wonder what exactly she’d been told. If I’d found out the man I loved was running around telling another woman he loved her, I certainly wouldn’t be taking him back. Maybe Amy was more forgiving and understanding than I was.

“I told her about New Year’s Eve, and how I panicked outside that place and tried to stop you—”

My face heated with anger. “You told her what I did?”

“No, not really. I told her that you were doi

ng something risky for money. She assumed it was like a medical thing.”

“Great.” The way Blake had described it, it also could have sounded like I’d taken up selling drugs.

“I told her how confused I was, and she said to leave and don’t come back until I’d figured it out.”

“So, you got sloppy drunk, came over, got rejected, and went back to her.”

“No. I got sloppy drunk, came over, got rejected, and sobered up. Then I made my choice. I asked her to marry me.”

Once again, I shouldn’t have had the reaction I did, but shit, I’d been in love with him. My heart raced in my chest. “And she said?”

“No. Ask her again later, like she was a Magic 8 Ball, or something.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah. I love her, Evie.”

“Good.” My voice was tight. “I’ve always liked her.”

“Can you do me a favor and apologize to Logan for me? I can’t remember if I took a swing at him, or if I just wanted to. I was a fucking mess that night.”

Eventually the tension eased when we talked about other things, and he dropped the second bombshell on me; he’d called Payton and apologized for what he’d said outside the club. She’d failed to mention that to me when we’d gone dress shopping. Why?

We hung up and I lost track of time, and before I knew it, it was six. I was supposed to be at Logan’s at six thirty and, what a shock, I was going to be late. I sent him a text, letting him know I was on my way from the back of a cab. I should have taken the bus, but this was faster.

My brain again felt like spaghetti. I’d woken up in Logan’s arms this morning after making love last night, so why the hell was I thinking about Blake? As the cab turned off of Lake Shore Drive, I succumbed to my anxiety about what I’d offered this morning, and that cleared out my brain quick. The thrill and tension returned, wrapping its fingers around me until I was gripped tightly.

I knocked on his door, and it swung open a moment later. He was on the phone, but gave me a smile and stepped back to let me come in.

“Okay,” he said to whomever he was talking to. “Evie just got here so I need to get off.” His eyes were wicked with innuendo. “Yeah, will do.” He said goodbye and hung up, shoving his phone into his back pocket. Hands rested on his hips and he glanced me up and down, curious.

“You changed clothes.” There was playfulness in his words. “Why?”

What does someone wear on an occasion such as this? Whatever it was, I did not own it. I knew because I had searched every inch of my closet. I’d changed into a pair of jeans and my black open-toed pumps with a black tank-top. Over that I had a sheer heather-gray shirt with an asymmetrical neckline that hung off of one shoulder.

“This kind of felt like a date,” I said.