“Sure.”
“Want to change first?”
“Nah, I’m comfortable like this. Let’s go.”
We walk side by side in the corridor.
“What are you doing?” Blake asks.
In my haste to keep my distance from him, I didn’t realize I look a bit ridiculous, not to mention obvious because I’m nearly brushing the wall with my shoulder.
Swallowing, I keep my tone even. “Keeping my distance from you. I’m thinking three feet should be enough.”
Blake steps right in front of me, forcing me to stop in my tracks.
“Babe, fair warning. Three hundred feet wouldn’t be enough.”
My cheeks heat, and I try to focus on some part of Blake that won’t turn my knees to mush. I try the eyes, but they’re too molten and intense.
Lips—too full.
Shoulders and chest—won’t even go there. Eventually, I focus on my own hands, which are tugging at the hem of my shirt, even though it’s impolite not to look at people when you talk to them.
Clearly whoever made up that rule has never been in the shoes of a woman trying to resist a very hot and determined man. Especially not one hungering for his touch and affection.
“Don’t call me that. I’m not your babe.”
“Yet.”
Some men would sound over-the-top saying that, but Blake pulls it off and then some. And here’s the thing. If I dropped the matter and walked past him, he’d drop it too, at least for now. I do the exact opposite.
“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
I know that if I push hard enough, if I challenge him hard enough, he’ll break and burn, making me burn with him. I shouldn’t want that, but I can’t help wondering: if one kiss held so much heat, what would he do if I surrendered to him?
Blake’s eyes snap fire. “I had one taste of you, and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. It wasn’t enough for you either. Don’t pretend it was.” He leans in to me, bringing his lips to my ear. “You’re betting on my self-restraint. You might lose.”
I rise on my toes, bringing my mouth to his ear. “Here’s where you’re wrong. I’m betting on your lack of it. Even though I shouldn’t.”
His sharp intake of breath sends an arrow of heat right to my center. Sometime during
this conversation, I’ve moved from gripping the hem of my shirt to fisting the hem of his. You’re really winning this, Clara. Crap, I’m supposed to put a bucket of ice water on that fire lighting him up from within, not gasoline. I quickly drop my hands, sighing.
Blake steps back, looking at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time. I can’t believe I managed to actually catch him off guard. I only succeeded at the small price of giving myself away. Oh well, I can’t even bring myself to be sorry. You know you’re headed down a dangerous path when you can’t even tell your own priorities. With a chuckle, he gestures for me to walk in front of him, which I do, keeping a safe distance.
***
“This used to be a barn,” Blake says as we step farther away from the main building and toward a much smaller one. I didn’t seen it when I first arrived. “Now they’ve remodeled it completely and it’s an extra wing. I think they added an extra story. I believe it was smaller.” He squints, sizing up the house. “I can’t believe I don’t remember. I used to come here every day. I was collecting eggs in the morning. Started doing it when I was about seven.”
“Really? That young?”
“The older ones had their chores, and I was competitive. Wanted my chores too.” He laughs. “That basket was almost as big as me. First time I did it, I broke half the eggs and cried. Daniel didn’t let me live it down for about a decade. Hard thing to forget.”
“What happened next?”
“Mom said, ‘If you fail at first, you have to keep trying.’”
“Your mother is very smart.”