by Lily Cahill
The rest of the trip passed in relative silence.
They arrived at the closed down Witch’s Brew, and Blayze parked on the street outside. They walked Joy around to the back, where a woman was waiting outside the back door.
“This is Marta,” Joy said, setting down her bag in order to get out her keys. She fiddled with the lock. “She’s a nurse Felicity hired to babysit me.”
Marta frowned. “Joy, you know that’s not true. She wants someone on hand in case—“
“I go diving nose-first into a pile of PD?” Joy pushed open the door. “Unlikely.”
As the girl disappeared upstairs, Marta gave both Ramona and Blayze an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”
She had an accent—not heavy, but enough to make her voice musical and exotic. She was also startlingly pretty, with wide, ice-blue eyes and hair so blonde it was nearly white. She seemed to glow in the night.
“Why are you here?” asked Blayze.
Ramona reached out and subtly pinched him.
“I’m sorry,” Marta said again. “But that’s really not something I can—“
Joy reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. “It’s the poison and the potion that saved me. Some after effects that might last for the rest of my life. Pain and shit like that. They have me on medicine to mitigate it, but someone has to supervise me because, you know, addict.”
Everyone went silent as Joy appeared from out of the doorway, nodding toward the car.
“I forgot my sweater. Will you let me in?”
“It’s open,” Blayze told her.
Marta edged toward the door. “It was good to meet you, but I should go upstairs now.”
“We both should.” Joy muscled her way past all of them, turning at the last moment to look between Blayze and Ramona. “I have your numbers if I need anything. Thanks for the ride.”
She closed the door before either of them could say another word.
Blayze blinked, glancing over at Ramona. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she wasn’t looking at him. Had she ever been so acutely aware of anyone in her entire life?
“Well,” he said. “That was weird.”
“She’s probably sick of being poked at and prodded and asked endless questions. Can’t blame her.”
As Blayze began to wander back to the car, Ramona hesitated, looking at the door. She felt—strange. Unsettled. She worked many cases in the past four years, some more disturbing, others with higher stakes, but there was something about Joy Valdez that struck her.
Maybe it was because she’d only ever read the hype in the tabloids about her: she was party monster, she was always stumbling into men’s beds and out of them, she was dumb, she was good for nothing but getting high or drunk or both and being the object of scorn.
Since the beginning of the case, Ramona had seen Joy has a kind of cash cow—just like everyone else did, it seemed. Sure, she wasn’t going to sell Joy’s story to any kind of gossip rag, but she’d only taken the case because of the money, not because of the person. She hadn’t really thought of Joy as a person at all.
And now she’d met the girl, and she was not at all what Ramona had expected. She was…sad.
She turned and followed Blayze back to the car, worrying a hangnail after she climbed in. What had happened to her? When had she become this hardened person, who made decisions based on money, who used the case as an opportunity to have nostrings attached sex with some guy that she definitely, definitely didn’t like romantically?
Definitely.
Or, well, maybe she did a little bit. Or, possibly a lot.
Dammit. She already cared for him so, so much. How had this happened?
God, Daniel would be so disappointed in her. For being so callous to a young woman going through the hardest time in her life in the public eye, for planning to use Blayze and then—what, not using him? But she knew him. He was the king of casual. And how she was feeling? Well, it definitely wasn’t casual.
She’d been with someone who loved her so much he’d died to protect her, and now she was…moving on. It seemed wrong. What kind of way was that to honor Daniel’s devotion, his sacrifice?
What was she going to do?
“You’re the loudest thinker, Jones, I swear.”
Blayze’s voice cut through her thoughts, and Ramona sighed. She knew what to do, deep down.
She needed to solve this case, remembering to put Joy first. She needed to put some distance between herself and Blayze, no matter how much it hurt. She needed to recommit to her life, the one she’d worked so hard to recover after the accident. She needed to get back in touch with her work.
“I don’t try to be,” she told him, hoping she sounded more relaxed than she felt.
“Well ….” His hand slid off the steering wheel and over to her thigh where it became to climb inch by inch. The warmth of his skin bled through her jeans, and it felt like a slow lick of fire.
Maybe she could let herself have this one last time. A goodbye, of sorts.
His hand went to the button of her jeans, popping it open and the pulling at the zipper. With just a few inches of space to work with, his hand dipped inside. It felt cool where her skin was suddenly blazing hot.
This is unprofessional, a voice inside of her said. There were still lingering in the dark behind Joy’s house!
It was so hard to care when his forefinger just lightly brushed over her clit.
Unable to hold herself back, Ramona reached across the car and grabbed Blayze by the front of his shirt, dragging him to her. She needed his mouth, needed him to kiss her so that she would stop thinking so much.
His lips were the perfect remedy for her loud brain. He kissed her with a single focus, like when it was happening, it was the most important thing in the world. She felt dizzy with all of it—with his mouth hot and wanting against her own, his scent, the feel of his hands as he left her pants behind in order to trail them up the length of her body, leaving only a scorched trail of want behind.
She groaned against him, letting herself have this one more time. That was fair, wasn’t it?
Her hand dropped down his front, lingering over his abs—ugh, she was going to miss those—and then resting atop the bulge in his pants. He was hot and hard and ready, and she ran her fingers of his length. All it would take would be a bit of creative rearrangement with their clothes, and then she could straddle him again, take him inside of her.
Her muscles quivered at the thought.
Suddenly, Blayze pulled back his head. He was—frowning. Why was he frowning?
“Jones,” he said, his voice soft. “Ramona. You’re still thinking so loud. Are you okay?”
Was she okay? No, she wasn’t.
Her body wanted more of his touch—but her heart wanted more of him, and it would hurt too much in the long run. Even though she wanted to, she couldn’t go through with this
She pushed away from him and lifted her hips to reclose her jeans. “I’m sorry, it’s just … been a long day. I can’t unwind like this.”
He nodded, reaching up to brush his thumb over her cheek. “Okay.”
Ramona ducked away from his touch. . Just … go to your brother’s place. I’ll drive myself home from there.”
There was a flicker of hurt on Blayze’s face. “I could just drive you home. You can get your car tomorrow. It’s late.” “I just want to go home.”
“Okay.”
Blayze was outside of his brother’s apartment in less than three minutes, and she watched him in her rearview as she drove away, telling herself that he didn’t look upset, it was just her imagination. She had done the right thing.
The radio played Adele, and Ramona turned it off.
Chapter Seven
Blayze
BLAYZE WOKE UP THE NEXT morning with his face buried in his pillow and someone repeatedly poking his side. He shot his hand out and grabbed at whoever was there, surprised when he caught Arryn’s foot.
He lifted his face from
the pillow to find his youngest brother balance on one leg and glaring at him.
“Let go,” Arryn said, shaking his foot.
“Don’t poke me,” Blayze countered.
He let go of Arryn’s ankle and rolled over to glare at his brother properly. In response, Arryn backed up a few feet.
“I was seeing if you were dead. You do realize it’s after noon, don’t you?”
He hadn’t actually, but now that Arryn said it, the room did seem to be especially bright. Groaning, Blayze pushed himself up.
His makeshift bed was a pullout couch in Arryn’s living room—perfectly fine for a weekend visit, but he’d now been in Augustus going on a week and a half, and his back was feeling it. From the expression on Arryn’s face, he was feeling the strain of it all, as well.
“It’s great having you here,” Arryn said, shifting back and forth on his feet. “But…”
“But it also isn’t? I get it, Arryn.”
Houseguests made life stressful. Blayze knew that. Hell, Vincent would have kicked him out the day after he was supposed to leave.
He’d stayed for Ramona, but now Blayze could see how ridiculous he had been. She was his love, he knew it in the depths of his soul. The thought of her made the dragon inside of him stir in a way it never had before. It made him feel connected to the other part of himself.
But just because he was destined to love her, she didn’t have to love him back. Sure, none of the fairy tales played out that way, but they were fairy tales. They weren’t supposed to.
She’d told him about her fiancé, and she’d said she couldn’t handle serious. Neither of them started whatever this was looking for more. But when she’d pulled away last night, it hadn’t felt like she was just tired—it had felt like she was stopping something she didn’t want to start, stopping them. Because they both knew it wasn’t casual between them, not anymore. Maybe it never had been. He knew how to woo a woman into his bed, but how did he get a woman to fall in love with him? That was so much harder, and he had no idea how to go about it.
Maybe it was time for him to call it a day, head back to NYC.
“Finally giving up on that singer from the bar? I’m surprised it took you so long.” Arryn grinned at him. “I tried to tell you that you were wasting your time, man. I’ve seen all sorts of guys go up and ask her about herself, and she always turns down every single…”
Blayze’s face was contorted in pain. He tried to hold it back and remain neutral, but it was impossible. Arryn cut himself off, and Blayze knew his brother had seen it, and that he now knew what was really happening.
“Oh shit. Seriously. You, what, fell in love with her, and she still sad no? What happened?”
He didn’t want to tell Arryn, didn’t like confessing his weaknesses—and yet, the temptation was there, to share the burden. He wasn’t typically an emotional person. In most ways, it was easy to let things roll off his back. No matter how bad things were, he had almost always been through worse.
He’d never felt this particular kind of heartbreak, however.
“I don’t know what happened.” He found himself confessing before he could stop it. “I—found out she was a private eye, and I hired her to investigate who poisoned Joy.”
Arryn crossed to sit next to Blayze, his face drawn taut with worry. “You idiot. Damien is going to shift and then cook you alive.”
A cheerless laugh. “He already knows. And he pretty much did that verbally, although I expect that the real thing will happen when we see him again.”
“What happened after that, then? After you hired her?”
“I just thought it was physical, you know. I’ve never been that attracted to someone before, but I didn’t think that was so strange. But then the more we talked, the more I realized that—Damien was right. There’s someone out there for all of us. A … Grizelda, or whatever. And she’s mine.”
Arryn took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Are you … I mean, are you sure, Blayze? Because you know how that sounds, right?”
“What, Damien can find a girl and you all believe it’s true love, but when it’s me, it’s an impossibility?”
He was so sick of people not taking him seriously. Just because he wasn’t perfectly mature twenty-four hours a day, just because he could still remember the importance of having some fun every once in a while ….
“That came out wrong. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—you have to admit, you’ve never really taken a girl seriously in your entire life, and now you’re telling me that you’ve fallen in love in a week.”
“I touched her and I knew. It was that simple.”
The words fell out of him unbidden, but as they did so, Blayze had witnessed how true they were. He’d never felt so awed by someone, had never connected so deeply to someone—physically, mentally, emotionally. Or, so he’d thought.
At least Arryn seemed swayed by that argument. He nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “Right. Okay, then. So, what? Did you guys have a fight or something?”
“No, not at all. Things were going well, and I thought…well, I thought that maybe she was beginning to feel like I do. And then all of a sudden last night she went cold to me, shut me out.” Blayze sighed. “I might as well just go back to New York.”
Arryn’s hand was lightning quick as he smacked Blayze in the back of the head.
“Ow! What the fuck, dude?”
“You’re an idiot. You don’t fall in love with someone and then give up at the first sign of a rocky road. You persevere. You keep trying. You … make a grand romantic gesture to win her back, or something!”
Blayze froze.
A grand romantic gesture. Something that showed her the depths of his feelings for her. That would be perfect! If she still wanted to be free, he could at least walk away knowing he’d done what he could to show her how much he loved her, and how much he wanted to be with her.
But if she was moved by the gesture, if she felt the way he did, well …
“That’s … a good idea.” Blayze glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “When did you get wise?”
Arryn grinned. “Shut up and start planning. Whatever you do, you need to make it happen quickly. If she has too much time to talk herself out of everything, she will. You need to show her how much you care, stat.”
“Right.” A plan was already forming in his brain. He could see the various moving parts coming together quickly, and he already knew what he was going to do, the perfect way to win Ramona Jones’ heart.
He nodded decisively. “I need to make some calls, call in a few favors.”
Blayze stared down at his phone screen, considering. He had to word this text perfectly. Too urgent and she’d think he was being needy and clingy after her obvious signal to put some space between them. Too casual and she’d feel comfortable ignoring him.
This had to be the perfect balance.
I think I have something for the case, he wrote. A lie, but she’d forgive him when she saw what he’d really gotten her. Can we meet tonight?
The reply came back right away, which seemed like a good sign.
I’m still working the dealer angle, trying to find Billy Lasseter. Tonight’s not the best time. Possible to do another day?
No! He’d done everything he could to get the people he needed in line for tonight, but he couldn’t tell her that without ruining the whole damn surprise.
Time sensitive. It’s important, I promise.
That, at least, was the truth.
All right. Meet at my place?
He typed quickly. No, my brother’s. I have everything here. See you here at 8 pm?
She wrote back, Okay, and his heart soared.
This was going to work. It had to.
Arryn had made himself scarce with only minimal complaints, and Blayze had spent the afternoon making sure that everything would be absolutely perfect. He’d gotten the dinner catered by La Mignonette, even though they’d snidely mentioned his brother stiffing them on
a favor a few weeks earlier. He’d made sure Arryn’s bachelor pad was sparkling clean. He’d gotten everything in line with a few friends in NYC.
Everything was going to be perfect.
When there was a knock on the door at, Blayze took a moment to collect himself. This had to work. He couldn’t go back to New York City without her by his side. He’d thought he could, but he’d been deluding himself.
Ramona was the only woman in the world for him, and he would do anything he could to have her.
He opened the door.
Ramona looked gorgeous because Ramona always looked gorgeous. She was dressed in a pair of distressed jeans and a t-shirt. She looked casual, comfortable. He was a little more dressed up by comparison—blazer, dress shoes—and he could tell she saw the difference right away.
A suspicious look crossed her face, and she frowned. “Blayze ….”
“Come in,” he stepped back and gave her some room to walk by.
She entered slowly, looking around as she did. The lights were dimmed, and there were candles on the table. Blayze and Arryn had spent a frantic hour at the antique store trying to find nice place settings, since Arryn, like a true bachelor, ate off of plastic plates.
He heard her breath deep and then turn around. She looked—sad. Regretful. Blayze felt his heart clench. He would never let anything or anyone hurt her, so that she would never have to make that face again.
“You don’t want to talk about the case, do you?”
She looked so upset, and he knew instinctually that it wasn’t because she didn’t want him. She did. He knew it like he knew the sky was blue; it was a fact. But she was still resisting, wasn’t letting herself have what could be between them.
This would work. He’d show her how it could be, and she’d realize she was holding onto fear instead of embracing happiness.
“Why don’t we sit down, have some dinner?”
She glanced at the table, then back at him. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Her shoulders were tight and high, like she couldn’t relax. “Look, Blayze. I’m not an idiot. I know there’s—something, or a potential something, between us. But I can’t have that, and I don’t want to do this.”
