Page 15 of Finding the One (River Rain #7)

High ceilings paneled in wood. Stone walls.

Block wood mantelpiece over the fireplace.

Inviting furniture in leather or cream. Lots of pillows.

A circular coffee table made of a beautifully rendered block of wood.

An attractive but sturdy poof even Dair wouldn’t hesitate to sit on.

Ivory rug under the furniture but over hardwood floors with a taupe design reminiscent of Native American art.

Creamy, downy throw blankets to cuddle under.

Views everywhere of the understated landscaping made by man leading to the glory of God’s personal hand.

It was summer, and hot outside, but cool inside, and they had a fire going which gave a very cozy house an even cozier feel.

He could spend a week here.

No.

He could move here and feel at peace, at home. It had a great atmosphere, welcoming and comfortable, but fantastic to look at.

“Does Gastineau do interior design?” Davi asked as Ned moved to an inlay in the wall that was clearly the bar seeing as it held sparkling glasses, a glass and gold filled ice bucket, window-fronted wine and beverage fridge and more.

“The interior is all Blake,” Ned stated proudly.

Stunned, Dair’s attention shot to Blake, whose perfect peaches and cream skin now had more than a hint of pink to it as she studied the bows on her shoes.

She lifted her head in a jerky manner.

“Dad, take care of the drinks,” she said. “I’ll just run and get the hors d’oeuvres.”

“I dinnae know what that smell is, love, but I can’t wait to taste it,” Kenna told her.

Blake shot what looked like a nervous smile his mother’s way before she ducked out of the room.

“I’ll help her,” Dair said.

“I bet you will,” Davi mumbled.

He ignored his sister and answered Ned’s inquiry of, “What can I make while you do?”

“A cold ale would be good, if you’ve got it.”

Ned nodded.

Dair followed Blake.

The kitchen was as fantastic as the living room. He was a man who liked to cook, and he would be very happy doing it here.

He nearly missed a step when he saw the tall cake with swirls of thick, piped, butter-colored icing on an attractive wooden cake stand on the edge of the kitchen island. He could see the wee, tempting flecks of vanilla beans in the frosting.

“Did ye make that?” he asked and watched her jump up from bending over the oven.

She glanced at the cake then went back to the oven.

“Vanilla cake,” was all she said.

“Looks amazing, lass,” he told her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling out two trays.

One, crab stuffed mushroom tops. The other, bacon wrapped dates.

When Ned said Blake could cook, he wasn’t fucking about.

“Looks great,” he told her.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she said to the trays as she moved food from them to large, round, wooden plates.

“I’m here to help.”

“I’ve got it.”

Like his mother earlier, he realized then, she hadn’t looked him in the eye since he got there. Even her murderous look had been directed at his ear.

“All right?” he asked.

“Really, Dair, I’ve got it,” she said, still transferring mushrooms.

He put his hand to the small of her back.

She shot straight and turned to him.

“What’s up?” he pushed.

“Nothing,” she lied. He could see it in her eyes.

“Blake.’

“Can you ask Dad to make me a martini and kill the vermouth?”

“What’s up?” he repeated.

She tried to turn away from him, snapping, “Nothing, Dair.”

He put his fingers to her jaw and turned her head his way.

She yanked from his touch.

Oh, aye.

Something was wrong.

“Have I upset you?” he asked.

“No,” she bit out. “ You haven’t.”

“Then who has?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She finished with the mushrooms and went to the dates.

“Blake, you’ve obviously worked very hard on dinner. Talk to me so ye can enjoy the night, as ye should.”

She transferred dates and said nothing.

He waited.

“If you’re not going to leave, there’s some fruit in the fridge. Please get it,” she requested.

He located the fridge and grabbed the bowls of clean, plump grapes and fat strawberries.

He brought them to her.

She took them and dotted the fruit artistically around the other pieces.

But as she concentrated intensely on her task, he could see her lip trembling, an indication she was holding back emotion.

“Darling,” he whispered.

She suddenly threw a strawberry onto the plate.

It bounced off and rolled across the island as she turned to him.

“Mum has evicted me.”

“Come again?” he said low and slow.

“She’s already in New York and she’s hired movers to pack me. She’s dumping my stuff at Dad’s.”

That was when she lost control of her emotions, her exquisite face crumbled, and she burst into tears.

Fucking Helena.

He pulled her into his arms. “Shh, love. It’s not like you don’t have somewhere to go.”

She yanked out of his hold, took two steps back, threw hers to her sides and exploded, “I do! But I don’t! It’s Dad’s place . Not mine! Nothing is mine .”

“Baby,” he murmured, already knowing something was troubling her, but this was far deeper than he expected.

“I don’t have a job. I don’t have a house. I don’t have anything . I’m not anything .”

Now Dair was angry.

“Dinnae say that shite,” he growled.

“Okay, so I have a trust fund, and it’s huge.

I could buy my own place. But that’s money somebody else made.

” She flung up an arm. “Alex has a good job. She’s a director at a charity.

She does good work. She helps people. She doesn’t have to work, but she does it anyway.

Dad doesn’t have to work either. He never did.

He still does and he’s good at it. He’s made the piles of Sharp money into mountains of it.

Me?” She shook her head. “I’m thirty-four years old and I’ve accomplished nothing . ”

“You made that cake,” he pointed out.

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew, when her eyes turned to slits and she snapped, “Shut up, Dair.”

“It’s a beautiful cake, lassie,” he returned.

“Big deal.”

“It will be for us when we eat it. Mum’s world crashed around her last night, and tonight, she’s eating cake.

And that shite.” He gestured to the platter.

“Which looks great and smells better. But ye working so hard on it will mean everything to her. She’ll remember you and your father’s, but especially your kindness in this time of her life for the rest of it. ”

She bit her lip and sniffed.

He kept at her.

“If ye did up this house, you’re fucking good at it. Ye planned your sister’s wedding within every quarter hour, and she had a day that was nothing to her but loving and being loved in return while you were running around arranging grass.”

“Dair—”

“Ye dinnae have to make money to be worth anything. My mum hasn’t worked a day in her life.”

“She raised two children.”

“And she’s raised millions for charity,” he retorted. “She made a home. She made my father look good through entertaining.” He aimed a pointed glance at the platter. “There’s worth to time spent doing those things.”

She licked her lips and stared at the platter like she’d never seen it before.

He got her attention again when he bit out, “Fuck your mother and fuck her flat. Your father adores you. He’ll be happy you’re home for a spell while ye decide where ye want to land.”

“God!” she cried. “Stop doing that!”

Dair was confused. “Doing what?”

“Being all…all…”—another arm fling, this one in front of her indicating him—“ you .”

“Sorry?”

“Why are you so awesome?”

He felt his body jerk in surprise.

Then he smiled again, but this one came very slow.

He took a step to her.

She took a step back.

“What are you doing?’ she asked unsteadily.

“Ye think I’m awesome?”

“Oh God,” she breathed in a panic.

His smile didn’t waver.

He took another step forward.

She took one back.

“Is everything okay?” Ned asked from behind them.

Fucking shite.

“Yes!” Blake chirped fake cheerily, hopping forward to rescue the strawberry. She tucked it on the platter, picked it up and shoved it into his hands. “You take that in.” She craned her neck to look beyond him. “Dad, can I have a martini?”

“Already shaken, darling,” he said.

“Before those get cold, Dair,” she ordered, tipping her head to the platter.

“We’re not done talking, lassie.”

“I need to open the wine to breathe for dinner. Go.”

He didn’t move.

“Go!” she snapped. “I didn’t toil over wrapping dates with bacon for it to be cold and gross when people ate it.”

That got him moving.

But he did it saying, “After dinner, you’re coming back to the hotel with me.”

She didn’t respond.

Even so.

After dinner, she was coming back to the hotel with him.

They were going to talk.

And he didn’t intend to bring her home when they were done.

It happened after the third time he reached under the table to take her hand and Blake pulled away.

Ned was at the head.

Blake at the foot.

Kenna was to Ned’s right, Dair next to his mother, seated to Blake’s left.

Davi was across from them.

By the by, Blake hadn’t served them steak.

Oh no.

She served them a perfectly roasted prime rib with crisp, perfectly seasoned hasselback potatoes and the tenderest brussels sprouts he’d ever tasted, the bonus being they were coated with balsamic glaze.

He’d had meals in Michelin Star restaurants he hadn’t enjoyed as much.

But his mother noticed everything. It had been the bane of his existence all of his life.

Now it was going to be the bane of Blake’s.

That and Kenna’s bluntness and honesty.

“I’m sorry,” she said shortly. “I heard the raised voices earlier. You’re likely to think it’s none of my business. However, if it isn’t, perhaps ye two should go somewhere and talk out your issue.”

“Mum,” Davi said low, proving she hadn’t missed Blake’s actions either, “stay out of it.”

“Blake’s not mad at me,” Dair announced. “She’s upset her mother evicted her.”

Kenna pulled in a shocked breath.

Angry color came to Ned’s face, and he asked, “I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

She hadn’t told her father yet.