Page 11 of Finding the One (River Rain #7)

“See ye efter.”

They hung up, Dair pulled on a shirt, nabbed his keycard and walked down the hall.

He knocked on Davi’s door.

Nothing.

He banged on Davi’s door.

“Shaddup! I’m up! I’m up!” she yelled from inside. “And tell Mum I’ll be at breakfast!”

Dair smiled again, walked back to his room and texted his mother with that info.

The coffee and croissants arrived, and once the server got tipped and left, Dair went to the bathroom door.

He knocked and said through it, “Coffee.”

He didn’t get the chance to step away before the door swung open, and at what hit his eyes, he stood stock-still.

Blake looked like she’d just come from a spa.

Dramatic wedding makeup gone, a fresher, more natural look in its place. She was wearing a sleeveless jumper top in beige that had a mock turtleneck and slits at the sides that came all the way up under her arms. This with matching drawstring pants. Her feet were bare.

And her glorious mane was a mass of lush curls and waves dripping over her shoulders.

What she did not look was hungover.

She looked ready to do a photo shoot.

She glared at him like his simple existence ruined her day, something that tickled the fuck out of him, then she looked beyond him, and her amazing face lit up.

“Coffee!” she cried, skirted him and walked right to it.

Dair peered into his bathroom.

Her tote had exploded in there.

There was a spent towel shoved haphazardly on the rail, her gown was a rumpled pile on the floor, makeup, brushes, perfume, deodorant and other women’s face shite was all over the basin.

Now he knew why the fucking thing weighed so much.

But there was something about her mess, God help him, that he liked.

This shook him.

Signe, his ex-wife, was a slob.

They’d had a housekeeper that came in once a week to clean, stock the kitchen, change the sheets and do the laundry.

Signe had wanted one that lived in.

The woman didn’t work, and she had no hobbies, outside shopping and trying to one-up her girlfriends (who seemed more like fellow competitors) with how expensive her outfits and handbags could be.

Why she couldn’t tidy up after both of them between housekeeper visits, he had no idea. Especially when he was in season.

But for fuck’s sake.

Blake’s mess turned him on.

Jesus, he was in this deep.

He turned to see she was pouring coffee at the same time sucking back one of the two ice waters she’d ordered.

He walked her way as she put the coffeepot and water down to grab her cup.

“That’s yours,” she said, motioning to the other filled cup with her own.

He reached toward the sugar.

“I did it already, Dair,” she said like she was chiding a child. “Two, right?”

Startled, he turned to her. “Ye ken how I take my coffee?”

She did an exaggerated eyeroll, adding a derisive squint. “You made a huge deal about starting to drink it when you were fourteen. To be certain we didn’t forget you were all grown up, you kept ordering us all to get you a cup. Of course I know.”

“That was over twenty years ago, lass.”

She seemed concerned. “Have your preferences changed?”

“No.”

Now she seemed annoyed.

“So…?” she let that trail irritably.

He picked up his cup and sipped it through yet another smile.

Blake retaining this knowledge didn’t say casual acquaintances.

You didn’t remember something that immaterial about someone you didn’t give a shite about.

She caught his smile, let out a huff, grabbed a croissant and threw herself into the couch.

“I can take you to a rental place so you all have a car,” she offered before she munched.

“We’ll do that after breakfast,” he replied, getting his own croissant and joining her on the couch.

She looked to her pastry then to him.

“Mum wants us at breakfast in her suite in about five minutes,” he explained.

Her eyes widened and now she was openly panicked.

“Including me?” she asked.

“She expressly said, if ye were here, she wanted ye there.”

“Why me?”

“Maybe because she’s worried about your state of mind?”

“Mine?”

“Ye smacked the shite out of your own mother, hen,” he said carefully.

She nibbled her croissant, looking away, and after she swallowed, said, “I did do that.”

“You all right?” he asked.

She returned to him. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?’

“Ye smacked the shite out of your own mother,” he pointed out.

She waved her croissant around. “You’d think I’d be conflicted. And I am, just not detrimentally. Do I wish I hadn’t done it? Yes. It was unhinged. Not a good look.” She sipped her coffee and then, “I guess I had some pent-up shit to get out.”

“That was lost on no one.”

She pulled a face.

And he was again fucking smiling.

Her tone was different, gentler, when she said, “I think this breakfast should just be for the Wallaces.”

He slid against the back of the couch closer to her and said in the same tone, “I ken it’s asking a lot, but I think Mum should have what she wants to have right now, Blake.”

“Blech. You’re right,” she said into her cup.

He knew he was.

He was just thrilled she was the kind of woman who knew it too.

Signe was a long time ago, but he’d learned a great deal from her. Lessons hard earned that he never forgot.

In this scenario, she would be gleeful she had something to sell to the gossip rags and dish about with her sister-competitors. His mother’s feelings, or his for that matter, wouldn’t factor.

Bottom line, a whisky wouldn’t have been waiting for him after he got back from the car park.

Instead, Signe would have found a way to rescue her mobile from phone jail and be gabbing to anyone who would listen about what she just learned.

Time to move on.

“I called your dad and told him ye were good and with me.”

She choked on her coffee and turned to him. “What?”

“Last time he saw ye, ye were pissed out of your brain and flirting with ten firemen.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“All right. They were flirting with ye.”

She smirked. “They were doing that.”

He was the jealous type. He just was.

But it was hard to get jealous when a woman was hanging on you while ten men flirted with her, and she didn’t give that first fuck.

“He invited me to dinner. You’re cooking,” he told her.

Another choke, this time on croissant.

“So ye ken, I dinnae like celery or squash of any kind,” he kept fucking with her.

With that, she chomped down on her croissant while glaring at him.

What she didn’t do was say she wasn’t cooking for him.

With her in the right frame of mind to buck up against his next, he shared, “He’s also worried your mother is going to make this mess messier.”

She washed the croissant down with coffee and stated blithely, “Oh, she’ll do that.

Mum walked away from that scene humiliated.

By you. Dad. Even Bally obviously picked the wife he’d been cheating on over Mum right in front of her face.

She’s totally going to be on the warpath.

” With that, she shot straight and exclaimed, “Oh shit!”

“What?”

She didn’t explain.

She jumped up, put her coffee cup down, and raced to the bathroom.

Through the door, he saw her sweet, heart-shaped ass lovingly molded by the clingy jumper material of her pants because she was bent over, pawing through her tote.

She came out with her phone and scurried back into the room, saying, “I think I have enough charge.”

She then poked at it, put it to her ear and started pacing.

Dair knew she connected with voicemail when she said, “Rix, it’s Blake.

If you haven’t thought to do this already, get Alex’s phone.

Block Mum. She’s sure to try to drag her into all this crazy.

And if Mum’s already texted or phoned, delete them.

I’ll explain everything to her when you guys get back.

” She took a breath and finished, “I won’t call again. Have lots of fun. Bye.”

She stabbed the phone screen, came to the couch and plopped down on it again.

“My mother,” she groused.

“And my mother is expecting us about now,” he replied.

Her shoulders fell.

“It’ll be all right,” he assured.

She was visibly unconvinced.

“Can I use your phone charger while we go see your mum?” she requested.

“Be my guest. It’s on the nightstand.”

She pushed up and went to plug in her phone.

When she came back, he had his keycard and his coffee.

She grabbed her coffee.

He grabbed her hand.

As he led her out of the room and down the hall, she didn’t pull away.

And…

Aye.

No matter her cheek, fire and attitude, they were on the same page.

Completely.