Page 19

It had to be the oddest sight Blake had ever seen.

And the most evocative.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or…

No, he shut that thought down before it could take hold, because those hips, that ass, those curves – dammit , the damage was done.

She dropped her foot to the floor and spun to face him. ‘I was – I didn’t – it was… Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ She threw her hands out, eyes wild, hair askew. ‘I spilled my water. I was just drying off my jeans. I wasn’t doing whatever you’re suggesting!’

He had to grit his teeth against the almighty laugh that wanted to erupt along with the words, More’s the pity.

‘Whatever you say, Twinkle Toes. I’ll be right out here when you’re done.’

Because everything he wanted to do would only make her wetter… and he needed to ditch those thoughts, stat!

He strode up to the glass, putting as much distance between them as possible, and focused on the Zamboni gliding across the ice.

Its steady back-and-forth hypnotic as Luke, the caretaker, erased all trace of their training, leaving behind a surface so pristine it practically dared him to lace up and carve right through it.

‘Drink?’

He turned to find her at the bar. Jeans now dry, sleeves rolled up, her glossy dark hair pulled back, save for one stray curl that seemed forever on the loose.

He wondered if it had a mind of its own or whether she left it free to tease…

a taunt his fingers were more than happy to respond to as they tingled within his fists.

He’d never met a woman capable of evoking such a reaction by look alone.

And today’s choice of clothing – the white shirt, the chequered waistcoat, the jeans and trainers – did it for him big time. Had that been her plan all along? Had the skirt and heels failed another of her tests and she was mixing it up? Aiming to seduce the man, win the story…

Had his brother liked it too?

He’d bet his life he had.

‘Blake?’ She swept the curl behind her ear. ‘It’s going to be difficult to interview you if you’ve stopped talking to me altogether.’

He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘I’ll take a beer.’

‘Don’t you have a game tomorrow?’

‘And?’

She hesitated, mouth opening and then closing as she turned away to pull open the fridge. She bent down to peruse the bottles, and he tore his gaze away before he broke a tooth.

‘Any beer in particular?’

Don’t look. Don’t look. ‘You choose.’

‘Do you want to take a seat and I’ll be with you in a sec?’

He pulled out the stool beside him and promptly sat. Like a schoolboy caught doing something he shouldn’t. And what the hell was that about?

‘I might as well join you; it’s not often you get to enjoy a free beer after— Oh…’

He caught her frown. ‘What’s up?’

‘I thought we might sit on the sofa, it’s cosier.’ She coloured. ‘More relaxing.’ She got redder. ‘What I mean is, it worked well for your brother.’

And she promptly shut her mouth, eyes wild once more.

I bet it did, honey.

He started to move, and she hurried forward.

‘No, no, stay there, it’s— oof! ’

She collided with the coffee table, her body lunging forward as her hands complete with beers soared north and the rest of her fell south. He dived into her path, grabbing her around the waist and she landed against him hard.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she blurted.

‘I’m not.’ His body was on fire with the heat of hers, loving every second.

She blinked up at him, beers still skyward, body still imprinted.

‘I thought you were making shit up when you told my brother you were called Twinkle Toes.’ He gave a low chuckle. ‘Now I know it’s for real.’

‘If you’d seen the amount of superglue my mum went through when I was a kid, you wouldn’t question it.’

He set her back on her feet, his body grumbling at the loss of hers. ‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, thank you,’ she said, handing him a bottle. ‘And I’m happy to sit on the stools if you’d prefer it?’

‘Even if it worked better with my brother on the sofa?’ he teased and her brows hit the heavens.

‘Blake!’

‘What?’

‘I’m going to pretend I never saw that glint in your eye!’

She moved to the sofa and promptly swapped her bottle for her phone, all business. The sofa it is then…

‘I recorded your brother, are you happy for me to do the same?’

He paused mid-step. ‘Record it?’

‘My notes are good but they’re not as good as replaying the actual thing.’

He gave a slow nod. ‘But it’s just for you, yeah?’

‘Of course.’

He breathed a little easier. ‘Okay.’

He settled into the sofa and took a swig of beer as she set her phone back on the coffee table and perched beside him. Far enough away not to touch, but not so far, he couldn’t catch her perfume. Subtle. Tropical. Deeply appealing.

‘You good to dive right in?’

‘Are we still talking about the interview?’

She pursed her lips, her pointed stare enough to see him shifting in his seat.

‘Okay. Okay, yes, I’m good.’

She took up her notepad and pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘So, tell me about your school life?’

He gave a bemused snort. ‘School?’

She flicked him look. ‘Sure.’

‘What about it?’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

‘I enjoyed aspects.’

‘Like?’

‘I enjoyed seeing my buddies. I enjoyed sport. I enjoyed playing hockey as much as playing hooky. You don’t seem surprised by that? Has my brother been telling tales already?’

‘More reaffirming what I’d already read about you, that academia wasn’t really your vibe. That it was questionable whether you would get the grades required for college.’

‘Wow, you don’t pull your punches.’

‘I didn’t think you’d need me to.’

Ordinarily he didn’t. But then ordinarily he didn’t care what the other person thought. Astrid however…

‘I don’t.’

‘He said he had to make you study with him?’

‘That’s fair.’

‘Because you’d rather be out with your buddies?’

Not quite how it was. It wasn’t the homework he was avoiding, but the home.

‘Something like that.’

‘It can’t have been easy though.’

She cocked her head, her posture softening. Had she read his freaking mind?

‘Your school lacked resources, and your home life was hardly conducive to study time. That would have been tough for any kid.’

Her honeyed eyes were full of compassion and it sent his skin crawling on the inside. He didn’t need compassion over his past. And he certainly didn’t want it.

‘Aiden tell you that too?’

‘He told me enough.’

‘Did he tell you he used to haul our books to the rink with us? Wouldn’t let Mom bring us back until I got through whatever work I needed to get done.’

She gave a small smile. ‘Crafty.’

‘Devious, more like.’ Though he grinned as he said it.

‘He’s very protective of you, isn’t he? You and your mother.’

He huffed. ‘You worked that out already? He was born minutes before me, yet he always plays the big brother card.’

‘Must be frustrating?’

He jerked. ‘Frustrating?’

‘Suffocating then?’

He frowned. ‘Not really.’

‘You don’t ever feel… patronised?’

‘Woah, step those twinkly toes back, honey. If I felt patronised or belittled by my bro, he’d know about it, believe me.

He does it because he cares. He feels responsible for us even though he shouldn’t.

And it wasn’t like I gave him any choice in the matter.

One of us had to become the man and get us the hell out of there, and it couldn’t have been me. ’

‘Why?’

And there it was, the question he didn’t want to answer.

The question he couldn’t answer.

‘Why couldn’t you have stepped up to the plate when your family needed you, Blake?’

He opened his mouth, but nothing would come out. His head was elsewhere. Trapped in the past and a moment he’d spent a decade trying to forget.

* * *

Fuck fuck fuck.

Astrid wanted to shrink into the sofa. But this was her job. To get to the truth.

Liar, you were trying to twist Aiden into the baddie of the piece and Blake refused to let you. And now you’ve backed him into a corner. Hit on something he doesn’t want to spill.

But then, didn’t that make it something the reporter in her wanted him to spill?

‘Have you ever done something monumentally stupid?’ he said into the strained silence, his voice distant and unrecognisable as Blake ‘the Fury’ Carter. ‘Something that threatened every dream you ever had, and know that if you had your time over, you’d do the exact same thing again?’

No, she was pretty sure she hadn’t. But her mother had. Because that ‘thing’ for her mother had been to fall in love with her father. And her mother had told her enough times over that she wouldn’t change it, not for the world, because it had given her Astrid.

Though looking into Blake’s bleak gaze, she had a feeling whatever his demon was, it didn’t have the love of a child at the end of it.

‘I can’t say I have.’

‘And there I was thinking you might pretend the opposite just to make me feel better about what I’m about to tell you.’

‘Would it really make it any easier?’

‘I guess not.’

He took a swig of beer and grimaced as he swallowed, rubbing at his chest.

‘It’s okay, Blake,’ she assured him, his vulnerability making her own chest ache. ‘Whatever it is, you can trust me with it. I promise.’

And she meant it with her all.

He gave a small nod, his eyes probing hers. ‘What did Aiden tell you about our father?’

‘He told me that he was mean. Abusive to you all. That he’ – she swallowed, gripped her pencil upon her notepad as she read – ‘that he beat you.’

She wet her lips, her scribbled note urging her to add, ‘He also implied it was worse for you than it was for him.’

He gave a harsh laugh. ‘And that’s my brother being kind. Too kind as usual. Which is him all over once you scratch beneath the surface, forever making excuses for me.’

Not what her karma-conscience needed to hear. ‘How do you mean?’

‘ I was the one who made it worse for me. I was the one who couldn’t keep a lid on my anger. I was the one who reacted to Dad’s physical abuse with more of the same and almost robbed us all of the chance to escape.’

She frowned, her gut giving the smallest of rolls. ‘I don’t…’