by Lily Cahill
That was a problem.
It wasn’t Ramona’s fault, of course. She’d been honest about what she did and didn’t want. Strings were a no-no. Attachments were of little interest. It had never occurred to Blayze that the feelings she stirred inside him were anything more than the thrill of the chase, lusting for someone gorgeous who was consistently telling him no.
As soon as he’d kissed her, though, as soon as he’d touched her skin—he’d known he’d been wrong. This wasn’t some fling, this wasn’t casual. He’d never felt like this before. He’d never before met the right woman.
Damien had been right. Fated love was real and all the old fairy tales were full of truth. He’d found his one, his only. He’d found Ramona, and now he could never unfind her. The thought of looking at another woman as anything more than a friend made his empty stomach roll uncomfortably. He couldn’t do it. It was impossible. Now that he knew the curves of her body, it was like no other woman in the world could ever possibly satisfy him.
And she wanted something casual.
Blayze groaned and shut his eyes. He wished he could fall back asleep and not think about this for a little while. A quick reprieve, some blissful ignorance…
It wouldn’t change anything, though.
He needed a plan, he decided as he carefully extricated himself out from under Ramona’s arm. He sat up and slipped out of bed, padding naked down the hall until he found his boxer briefs where he had left them.
He slipped them on and went straight into the kitchen, rooting through Ramona’s pantry and refrigerator. They were both more bare than full. Eggs and toast, then.
As he cracked eggs into a frying pan, he started to plot. She was obviously drawn to him—if the incredibly great sex was anything to go by, at least. Maybe if he was nicer, kinder. What if he got her a present, something to show his affection?
He needed to prove to Ramona that he was worth moving on for. He knew she still loved Daniel—she probably always would, in some way. But her heart could—should, the dragon in him insisted—belong to him, now and forevermore.
Gestures, then, to show how much he cared. And maybe, with time and patience…
He flipped over the eggs and allowed himself to hope.
Ten minutes later, breakfast was done and plated, and he slipped back into the bedroom.
Ramona stirred at the sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor, blinking sleepily. As soon as she saw the food in his hands, she sat up. She looked—wary, as if she wasn’t sure why he was doing this, couldn’t guess his motives.
“We worked up an appetite,” he said, by way of explanation. He didn’t add that he just wanted to do something nice for her. She was too prickly to appreciate that.
She nodded, shoulders still tight like she wasn’t entirely comfortable, but she reached for and accepted the plate.
“Thanks.” He voice was sleep-rough. “Haven’t had anyone cook me breakfast in…I don’t know. Years, I guess.”
Blayze smiled, bolstered when she returned it. “Yeah, well, breakfast is the one thing I’m good at. I worked at a diner for a while—ten years ago, maybe? We were in Georgia, I think. We moved around a lot, so it all kind of blurs together. Anyway, I was a line cook.”
Ramona snorted. “I can’t imagine Mr. Cover of People Magazine as a line cook.”
“A line cook. Step up from the job before that, which was at McDonalds. Chuck E. Cheese. A hardware store, an ice cream parlor, and, oh my God, retail for a while. That was the worst one.”
“Worse than Chuck E. Cheese?”
“By a thousand percent. It was Christmastime.”
Ramona hummed as she took a bite of egg, her face lighting up in surprise. “Hey, this is actually really good.”
“Jones! Ye of little faith. I told you I could make it.”
She stole a piece of toast off the plate in his hands, despite the fact that he’d put the same amount on her plate. He pretended to glare, but there was no heat in it, not when she was grinning at him while she munched down on her breakfast.
“It’s not my fault. You sell the whole useless playboy thing a little too well. I wouldn’t have figured you to have a job ever, let alone to be a jack of all trades.”
“Well, that’s not entirely accurate.” It really wasn’t. He was always fired from one job or another, switching whenever he got bored—which was very, very often. Being good at his work had never been a top priority for him.
She said nothing, just finished eating the last few bites on her plate, and he did the same. This time, the silence between them felt natural, soothing. Last night had felt like a jumble of nerves and misfiring hormones, and he hadn’t been able to figure out why. Why, when he was so attracted to Ramona, had he felt so awkward and out of step?
He had figured it out, or so he thought. He’d known, on some subconscious level, that Ramona was different from every other girl who had ever shared his bed. She wasn’t someone he wanted to know only for a single night.
He hadn’t known how to deal with that, and he’d reacted by going silent, by creating an uncomfortable atmosphere as he fought to understand what he was feeling.
He knew now. It was love.
Ramona handed him her empty plate, he stacked them on her night stand next to the bed.
“So what’s on the agenda for today? More interviews?”
Ramona shook her head no. “I think, actually, that we hit a pause button. I need to go back over all the evidence with Zeke’s statement in mind, and try and find a clue as to who Zeke’s supplier might be. I need that name. He or she is our best lead.”
Blayze couldn’t help the frown on his face. “That doesn’t sound like you think it’s much of a two-person activity.”
“Sorry. Once Joy is out of the hospital, I want to go and visit her. I could use your help setting up a time. I’m assuming that we’ll need to go through Felicity for that.”
Felicity still wasn’t entirely aware that Blayze had directly ignored her opinions and hired a private investigator. He probably needed to tell her sooner rather than later, so that she wasn’t blindsided when he suddenly requested to meet her newly rehabbed, probably very delicate younger sister.
He fought back a sigh.
“Right.” He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. If Felicity didn’t turn him into a frog, or something, Damien was definitely going to be pissed. “Okay.”
If Ramona heard anything off in his tone, she didn’t remark on it. Instead, she nodded decisively and got out of bed. She went straight to her dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt and slipping them on. Even in this, she looked so beautiful that Blayze felt his cock stir.
He was up for a little morning after…
But when Ramona turned to him, her face was all business again. He fought back a sigh. Even though they hadn’t known each other long, Blayze felt like he already knew her completely. And that face brooked absolutely no sexy fun-times.
“Right,” he said. He needed to get the rest of his clothes. “I’ll just … go, then.”
She bit her lip, looking suddenly apologetic. “I’ll call you they day Joy gets out, okay? And we’ll reconvene then. Go over all the evidence.”
Four days. Blayze couldn’t imagine not looking at Ramona, not getting to hear her voice or listen to her thoughts for four days. It seems interminably long.
But if he pushed for more—what if she backed away? He didn’t want to rush her. Now that he’d found her, he knew he could wait for her for as long as she needed.
Even if he really did prefer not waiting.
He’d been wrong. He couldn’t wait. Waiting was impossible.
It felt like there was a constant weight on his chest that would not lift no matter what he did. He couldn’t concentrate on TV or movies or books, and he didn’t exactly have any sort of official job that could serve as distraction. He’d snapped at Arryn that morning about taking too long in the bathroom, even though (as his brother rightfully p
ointed out) it was Arryn’s apartment.
Four days, and she hadn’t even texted him. He hadn’t texted her either, of course, but the difference was, he knew how much he wanted to text her. He had no such assurances from her.
She had felt something between them during their night together. He was sure of it. He’d seen it in her eyes and felt it in her touch. And no, she hadn’t said anything, but she had to know—she had to know how rare that kind of connection was, and how lucky the two of them were to have found it.
Joy was due out of the rehab facility later that afternoon. Blayze had offered to pick her up, but when he’d discussed it with Vincent the day before, his brother had rolled his eyes—yeah, sure, like you’ll remember—and told him not to worry about it.
It stung more than he cared to admit. Sure, he didn’t have the best track record with responsibility. He was still an adult. And Joy was practically family, sort of.
“I mean, I don’t understand what Vin’s problem is. Joy is practically family, sort of.”
On the other end of the line, Damien chuckled. Blayze had called his brother to complain about being left out, and to also mention that might have gone behind Felicity’s back to hire a private eye because he’d thought she was hot. And also he was pretty sure she was his soul mate.
Normal, everyday stuff.
“Vincent isn’t exactly wrong, Blayze,” he said.
Traitor, Blayze thought darkly.
“I mean, you once forgot to bring home the groceries you bought at the grocery store because you saw a pretty girl.”
Blayze huffed. “I was sixteen! It’s been almost fourteen years! Can we let that go yet?”
“No,” Damien said, obviously fighting back another laugh. “It hasn’t stopped being hilarious yet.”
“I beg to differ. Anyway, all I’m saying is, I’d be happy to pick up Joy and drop her off at her new place, make sure she’s settled in. All that jazz. I’m trying to actively participate in our family, shouldn’t that be encouraged?”
The silence on the line lasted a bit too long for comfort. “Okay, what did you do?”
Shit, Blayze thought, even as he vehemently denied doing anything.
“I don’t believe you. Felicity is heartbroken that she can’t come down to Augustus to help Joy settle in until next weekend, and I’m not screwing this up by sending someone with an agenda. So what’s up? Are there going to be photographers, is that?”
Damien thought he’d call the paparazzi to take pictures of a vulnerable girl getting out of rehab? The assumption hurt more than Blayze wanted to admit. Was that what his brothers really thought of him?
“I can’t believe you just asking me that, man. What a dick move.”
“I’m sorry, Blayze, but it’s not like you’re exactly a paragon of virtue—“
“I hired the private eye. The one we talked about.” There. It was like ripping off a band aid. “I haven’t mentioned it because I knew Felicity didn’t want to, but I think it’ll really help with figuring out what happened.”
Or at least he hoped so. Again, he hadn’t spoken to Ramona in four days.
“Basilton.”
Great, he was being first-named. That always meant trouble.
“How could you go behind Felicity’s back like this? And now you want to interrogate a young woman while she’s at her weakest? Are you insane? No. No way. You and your little private eye stay the hell away from Joy.”
“It’s not like that—Ramona isn’t going to strap her down and require answers. She’s really good at her job. And it doesn’t have to happen tonight, I’m just saying—“
“Ramona, huh?” The disgust was clear in Damien’s voice. “I should have known that this was about a girl, instead of about Joy. So, have you banged her yet?”
Blayze opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say—did he deny it? He wasn’t ashamed, so why would he? But if he confirmed, then Damien and Felicity would never really trust Ramona. They’d think she was just another one of his conquests. They would never take her seriously, and she didn’t deserve that.
For the first time in his life, Blayze wished he were a little more thoughtful, and bit less of a fuck up. Maybe then people would take him seriously when he had good ideas.
The pause was apparently too long because Damien gave a sarcastic laugh. “Right, so you have. Well, I hope selling out Felicity’s family was worth it.”
“That isn’t what happened. You’re not listening to me.”
“Maybe you meant well, but you’ve invited another person into this situation who could potentially expose and use Joy for her own personal gain. I mean, whatever you’re paying this chick, she could get triple that for a few photos sold to the right magazine.” Damien sighed. “You didn’t even ask her to sign an NDA, did you?”
Why couldn’t Damien understand that Ramona was trustworthy? Why couldn’t Damien understand that Blayze was trustworthy?
“Look, just give Joy a wide berth, okay? Let’s not make this an issue. You get rid of your private eye and we’ll figure the rest out soon.”
Listening to Damien’s I’m-disappointed-in-you voice was like playing a record of nothing but nails on a chalkboard.
“Whatever,” he told Damien, and hung up.
He glared down at his phone as if doing so would fix all of his problems. Was it so difficult to believe that he could change? That he was changing? A person could like doing things like partying and having fun and still have good ideas, still put their family first.
Without thinking, he flipped through his address book until he got to Ramona’s name.
He opened up a new text.
heyyy so problem w/ joy, want to meet up?
Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at Arryn’s door. HIs brother had left early that morning for his job, again, like he wasn’t one of the last four dragons on earth and someone who didn’t need to work for anything for the rest of his life. It was after dark now, but Blayze figured Arryn was off with Vincent, collecting Joy. He refused to be worried.
Blayze opened the door to a very annoyed Ramona.
“What do you mean I can’t talk to her? You told me you were going to pick her up and introduce me to her.”
“Yeah, so, the thing is,” Blayze scrambled for something to say. He couldn’t tell her that Felicity and Damien hadn’t been aware he’d hired her. Maybe four days ago he could have said it, but now, after they’d slept together, and she’d opened up about her ex-fiancé? She would never trust him if she knew he’d hired her on entirely false pretenses.
His motives had been less than pure. He’d wanted to see her naked. And now that he wanted more than that—well, he couldn’t admit his past wrongs now. She would refuse to ever see him again, and he needed her. She was his one and only.
“My, uh. I mean. Damien called. Vincent is picking her up, and her nurse, too. She’s going to have some live-in care for a few weeks, until Felicity can come down from NYC and stay with her. They don’t want her falling off the wagon again, or anything.”
Ramona frowned. “Then why don’t you just ask to go with Vincent? Or have Vincent give her your number and ask her to call you?”
Those were … too good of questions for this lie. Dammit.
If he couldn’t answer them, he’d ignore them.
He shrugged and looked down, then peeked up at her, a smile curling his mouth. He leaned against the door frame and nodded back toward the inside of the apartment.
“I thought you might want to come over. You know. Hang out. Go over…evidence, or something.”
The comprehension came over Ramona’s face, and she glared at him without any real heat. “Are you serious? You invited me over here to bang me?”
She pushed past him and into the apartment, so she wasn’t as annoyed as she was pretending to be. Which was good—very good.
A few steps in front of him, she looked back, eyebrow raised. “Where’s your brother? Isn’t this his place?”
“
Well, yes, but honestly, I’m kind of pissed at my entire family right now, so I am totally comfortable with fucking on his couch.”
Ramona laughed and nodded toward the couch in question. She crossed the room and sat down, leaning over to fiddle with the strap of her shoe and removing it quickly. As she repeated the same process with the other foot, he caught a glimpse of her cleavage.
There was something about all of it, the teasing look in her eye when she glanced at him, sliding the sandal off her foot and tossing it away, which was unbearably sexy to him. He felt his dragon stir within him, demanding that he take, have.
He very, very much agreed with his dragon, in this particular instance.
A moment later, he was in front of her. He leaned forward and parted her knees then sank between them, reaching for the button of her jeans. He’d never seen her dressed this casually before, but he liked it. Casual suited her. So did chic. So did being completely naked.
He’d only just popped the button and was pulling at the zipper when he heard his phone go off.
Blayze groaned, resting his forehead against her thigh. “I’ll ignore it,” he said.
Ramona batted his hands away and rebuttoned her pants. Blayze stared at it mournfully. Things had been going so well.
“It’s fine. If it’s your brother letting you know he’s on his way home or something…”
With a heavy sigh, Blayze got his cell out of his pocket. He sighed when he saw the name.
“Vin. What’s up?”
“Arryn’s car broke down, and I have to get him. He’s stuck in the middle of nowhere, outside of town. Can you pick up Joy after all?”
Apparently, Damien hadn’t informed Vincent or Arryn about the no-Blayze-around-Joy rule.
Which was perfect.
“I know you don’t have a car,” Vincent continued, “But you’re you, so I’m sure you know…like, everyone in town. Someone can help you out, right? It’s an hour drive out to Philly, but you shouldn’t hit too much traffic at this time of night, and—“
“Vin. It’s fine, seriously. I’m actually with someone right now.” His eyes cut to Ramona, who suddenly looked very, very interested. “And I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”
