“I’d advise you to not call her that,” Blake said to him, voice low and flat. Eyes still on Gage, Blake held his hand out to me. “Come here, baby.” When I crossed to him and placed my hand in his, Blake pulled me close.
Gage’s brows hiked up. “Sorry. Didn’t know you two were together.”
“Now you do.” Curling an arm around my shoulders, Blake guided me down the hall, through the kitchen, and out of the open patio doors—ignoring the curious looks that Bastien, Emma, and Adam wore.
On the deck, Emma’s PIs—Chase and Bran—were sprawled on rattan chairs. I’d met them earlier, and they seemed nice enough. They tipped their chins at us as Blake led me over to the wooden swing that was cozily positioned under an arch that was adorned with flowers at the rear of the yard.
The moment we sat, Blake draped his arm over the back of the swing and asked, “Who is Gage to you?” His voice was hard and strained.
“An ex.”
A muscle in Blake’s cheek ticked. “Thought as much. From how long ago?”
I puffed out a breath and crossed one leg over the other. “About six months ago.”
“He’s the one who cheated on you,” Blake realized.
I nodded. “With a redhead. And now I’m wondering if the redhead was in fact Tara.” In a sense, she’d taken the man in my life, and now I’d taken the one in hers. Funny old world, wasn’t it?
“How do you know it was a redhead?”
“Reed told me he saw Gage snuggled up with one at a bar where Gage’s band plays.” Reed had also poured his beer over the cheating bastard’s head, which I thought was awesome.
“Tara’s always had a thing for musicians. It’s obvious they’ve known each other for a while.”
“It’s also pretty obvious that she knows he’s my ex. Probably whined about me to Gage, who then told her about our past.”
Blake’s face hardened. “She’s done this to piss me off. When I told her and Bastien that you now know everything, she flipped. She feels that I had no right to share the whole story without checking with them first. Even though I told her that Montgomery approached you, Tara didn’t feel that you needed to know anything. Bastien, however, agreed that it’s best that you’re fully aware of who and what Montgomery is.”
“Maybe you should have consulted with them first.”
He frowned. “Tara already knew I’d tell you when I was ready—I told her that.”
“She clearly didn’t believe you.”
“Clearly not.”
I put a hand on his thigh. “I know you want nothing more than to throw him out and give her a verbal lashing—I truly do like the idea—but she’s done this for a reaction. Don’t give her what she wants.”
Blake thrust his hand into my hair. “I don’t like that he gave you your tattoos. Like he’s left his brand on your skin.”
“He only did the feather quill. A woman did the cuffs and garters.”
“That makes me feel a little better. But I hate knowing he’s tasted you. Touched you. Been in you. I want to kill him just for knowing what you look like when you come.”
“He didn’t make me scream. You’re the only person who has ever done that. And I sure as hell never gave up any control to him. But I never held back with you.”
Blake spoke against my mouth, “I wouldn’t have let you.”
I smiled. “No, you wouldn’t have.” Hearing my cell beep, I pulled it out of my purse. “It’s a text from Sarah.”
This bitch has some fucking nerve. Want me to stab her with my fork?
I can make it look like an accident xx
Smiling at that, I typed a quick reply:
No. We’re going to do something much worse. We’re going to treat
her like this shit isn’t registering on our radar xx
“You think that will bother Tara more?” Blake asked, having read my text.
I nodded. “Like I said, she’s done this for a reaction. She thinks it makes her very clever, and she’s counting on it hurting you and making me uncomfortable. She might even be hoping it causes some friction between you and me. I have no intention of giving her anything she wants. You?”
“No.” He kissed me. “But it will be hard not to punch the prick she’s brought with her.”
“Food’s ready!” Emma bellowed.
Re-entering the house, we headed straight to the dining area. It had a real country feel to it, and I loved the long, thick barn table.
Tara patted the empty chair beside her, which also happened to be the only vacant one on her side of the table. “Blake, I’ve saved you your usual seat.”
Like he’d honestly leave me to sit with her. I gave her a look of gentle reprimand, like a teacher would do to a misbehaving six-year-old. “Tara, it’s Adam’s birthday. Save your games for another time, yeah?” I sat beside Sarah, which placed me at the other end of the table from Tara.
Blake took the chair on my left and draped a possessive arm over the back of mine. He kissed my neck and said quietly, “You smell so good. It always makes me … hungry.”
Knowing he didn’t mean hungry for food, I smiled. “For now, you’ll have to make do with all this food Emma has laid out.”
Among other things, there was sweet potato casserole, herb-crusted chicken, mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots. It smelled amazing.
As we dug into our meal, Sarah leaned in and whispered, “You guys going to the basement tonight?”
“Depends how long this goes on for,” I whispered back. “I went last night.”
“And?”
“A movie theater.”
She grinned. “We went Thursday night.”
“And?”
“A spa. I was a rather slutty masseuse who took advantage of a willing client. And we made good use of the hot tub.”
I chuckled, all too able to imagine Sarah playing that part.
Bastien leaned toward us. “What are you two whispering about?”
“A spa, a masseuse, and a hot tub,” said Sarah.
Eyes glimmering with heat, he flashed her a sensual smile. “That so?”
Feeling a warm, strong hand gently squeeze my thigh, I turned to Blake with a raised brow. “Yes, dear?”
His mouth twitched. “I think you have an admirer.” He gestured at the little boy sitting directly opposite me.
It was only then that I noticed he was staring at me curiously. “You okay, Kyle?”
He nodded. “Why are your eyes different colors?”
Although he’d seen them before, he was apparently still surprised by them. Smiling, I opened my mouth to answer, but someone beat me to it.
“You get that trait from your father, don’t you?” asked Tara with a polite interest that was completely false. “Maxwell Buchanan, I mean. Not Michael Bale.”
Sarah growled quietly, and Bastien put his hand over hers.
“Why were his eyes that way, though?” asked Kyle, brow furrowed.
Deciding to just ignore Tara, I shrugged at him. “I don’t know. Weird, huh?”
Kyle’s lips twisted. “I want mine to be different colors.”
“Like one red, and one black?” I suggested.
His eyes sparkled. “Ooh, yeah! It would freak people out.”
“Oh, like the contact lenses you wore as a teen, Kensey?” Again, Tara was all politeness, but there was a mocking note in her voice.