No Damaged Goods - Page 15

“Correct,” he says grimly. I barely get to step aside before he’s stalking inside, his big bulk taking up so much space in my little cottage living room. “Andrea?”

She winces but sets her mug down and shuffles over, her head down.

Only for Blake to throw his arms around her shoulders, dragging her in close, enveloping her in this massive, sheltering hug that actually takes me by surprise. His expression softens as he buries his face in her hair and cups the back of her head.

“Goddammit, girl,” he whispers roughly. “I didn’t even know you weren’t home. Thought you were freezing me out. Then Haley called in the fire and I knew.”

Andrea makes a soft, hurting sound, clinging to Blake, knotting her hands in his shirt. “M’sorry, Dad. Sorry. I know it was stupid, we could’ve…we could’ve set the whole woods on fire—”

“The Inn too,” he growls, his eyes drilling into her. “You don’t want to hurt Ms. Wilma or Warren and Hay that way, do you? This town’s had enough fire damage the past year.”

“No, no, of course not.” Miserably, Andrea buries her face in his chest. “I just wanna go home, Dad.”

“I know.” He squeezes her tighter for a moment, then pulls back, gently nudging her. “Go wait in the Jeep. I’ll be out in a second.”

She holds on to him for a few more seconds, then pulls back and slogs away, the living portrait of tired dejection as she clomps out into the snow.

It’s my guess she’ll be out cold before they even get home.

Blake lingers, awkward in his thick flannel wool-lined coat, jeans, and boots. Apparently, changing out of his fire gear and into everyday stuff takes zero points away from the sexy department.

I try to quit gawking.

“How did you know you’d find her here?” I’m not even sure what to say, so I try a smile.

He gives me a flat look, then reaches into his back pocket and retrieves something.

My crocheted cap, several spots of it blackened and singed.

“You had this on earlier,” he says. “And it’s pretty distinctly ugly. But if you want it back…”

“Nah, I don’t really think it’s any good anymore.” I wince, glancing away. “Sorry. I didn’t know she was your little girl, or I’d have tried to call, or something. I saw them out in the woods, went to check out the fire, and they bolted. One kid was being reckless. A few twigs caught fire, but Andrea put it out. Now I know where she gets her fire safety tips from.”

If I’m not mistaken, there’s actually a touch of pride flickering in his eyes. Pride in his daughter. It warms me to see it.

And it does jack squat to dispel this ridiculous crush.

He rakes a hand through his thick hair, making it spike wildly around his sharply patrician features. “Yeah, well, thanks for looking out for her.”

“Oh, it’s no big!”

He starts turning away.

My lip digs against my teeth. Hey, I might as well shoot my shot while he’s here, right?

Better than desperately trying to chase him down later.

“Hey,” I say quickly, starting forward. “Listen, um…I was wondering about the stories Justin was talking about. The stuff about you and your friends and all the stuff that happened here? Heroes of Heart’s Edge?”

It’s the wrong thing to ask.

I know it’s the wrong thing to ask, when I remember far too late that Justin said the whole thing makes Blake touchy.

I’m tired, I’m confused, I’m not thinking straight, and I’m regretting opening my mouth.

Sigh.

I expect him to slam down on me, to go gruff and cold and incisive the way he’d been earlier tonight.

I’m just a stranger, after all. A very nosy one.

But the man actually smiles.

It’s so sad, though. And I can’t help but wonder what made him that way as he says, “You’re plenty welcome to ask other folks those stories. Warren. Doc. Even Leo. They’re the heroes, and they do the talkin’. I don’t need to be nobody’s hero, Peace.”

Then he’s turning away again, and this time, I don’t have the heart to stop him.

Especially when his voice floats over his shoulder, and the music in it comes out like a haunting dirge, making me ache to tease out what’s at the heart of it.

“Not interested in heroing anyone these days but my little girl.”

4

Bought for a Song (Blake)

I survived the school week.

Barely.

I’m pretty sure the only reason Andrea hasn’t murdered me in my sleep is because she’s out of the house for twelve hours a day. Still, that little moment we had at Peace’s cabin the other day went flat real fast when I told her she was grounded.

Look, she did good putting that fire out quick.

But like hell that tea or whatever Peace gave her was gonna mask the smell on her breath. Her breath stank like rocket fuel.

Tags: Nicole Snow Romance
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