by Tia Souders
Grant took a long pull from his beer, wagging his finger back and forth in front of him. “No. People like the Garwoods never admit they’re wrong. It’s not in their nature. Even if they are, they have enough money to pass along the blame. She’s always going to be Daddy’s Little Girl because Daddy is funding her posh lifestyle.”
“She’s not like that.”
Grant arched a brow and shot him a look he clearly read as Isn’t she?
Blake sighed and headed for the couch, snatching up the beer in Grant’s hand on his way. “Hey!” he protested, but Blake ignored him and sunk back into the couch.
With a sigh, Grant heaved himself up and reappeared several minutes later with a fresh bottle.
What Blake hadn’t told Grant about last night’s dinner party was Jen’s comment about working for her father after they were married. He’d flip, and then immediately throw him the “I told you so” card. But it wasn’t just that Grant was right and Blake was wrong that ate at him. It was the fact that deep down, Blake feared Jen felt the same way about Blake’s career as her father did. That she really did want him to leave his business behind and take some cushy desk job if they got married.
Blake would rather jump off the Empire State Building.
“So, what of this Mel chick?” Grant asked, breaking the silence. “I assume she’s part of this.”
Blake sighed and took a sip of beer before answering. “You could say that.”
“So spill.”
Blake turned to his brother. “I think . . . Maybe I need to take a break from Jen.”
“Whoa.” Grant’s eyes widened. “I didn’t see that coming, at least not yet. Do you really have feelings for her?”
Blake hesitated, then nodded. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t even known Mel for very long, yet he couldn’t deny there was something there.
Grant whistled. “Okay. But here’s the thing. If you break up with someone like Jen, it’s over. Done. There is no second chance. She’s just not that type. So you need to be sure. Just because you need some air and a window is cracked, doesn’t mean you jump out it.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “What does that even mean? That I’m leaping when I should walk?”
“Precisely. I mean, this lady had three kids, Blake. Three.” Grant held out three fingers as if Blake couldn’t count.
Blake smacked his hand away. “I happen to like her kids, remember? And big deal. So she has kids? I want a family, unlike you.”
“All I’m saying is that’s a lot of baggage.”
Blake set his beer down. “Put Mel aside, because I don’t even know how she feels about me. She could see me as her brother for all I know.” Although it certainly didn’t feel that way last night. “There’s something hugely wrong with the fact that I almost kissed another woman last night.”
“Who?”
Blake threw a pillow at him, but Grant dodged it with a forearm. “Mel, you idiot.”
“Oh,” Grant drawled.
“Yeah. I left my girlfriend to go to another woman’s house in the middle of a dinner party, and I almost kissed her. To make matters worse, I accidentally saw her naked a few days ago, and it’s as though my retinas have been burned by her image. And not in a bad way. In a way that won’t let me stop thinking about her, replaying it over and over in my head.”
Blake brought the heal of his palm to his temple as if he could erase the image. “A man who is committed to the woman he’s with should not be having these feelings.”
“Okay, I get it, even if I do think you’re being a little hard on yourself.” At Blake’s glare, he continued, “Those are valid reasons to question things, but give it a little time.”
Blake stared at Grant like he was an alien. “Give it time? I thought you hated Jen? You’ve been hounding me to move on since the day I met her.”
Grant exhaled. “I don’t hate Jen. I just,” he waved his beer around in the air in front of him, “don’t think she’s right for you. She never has been and never will be. But,” he said, drawing out the word. “You’ve been together a year. Just because you have a thing for the hot mom now doesn’t mean you should just throw a year’s investment out the window.”
Blake chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over what he said. The thought of ending things with Jen left a stabbing ache in his chest.
Maybe Grant’s right.
What was wrong with him, anyway? He’s was acting like a crazy person. Before he made any rash decisions, he needed to relax and take a step back—collect his thoughts. He needed to talk with Jen about the future and what kind of life they wanted for themselves.
“But what if you’re right?” Blake asked, picking at the label on his bottle.
“I always am. You’ll have to be more specific.”
“What if I’m with Jen for the wrong reasons?” Blake glanced up at him. He felt like a total tool for what he was about to say. He and Grant had an unspoken bro code to never speak about their feelings. And if they did, it was life or death. Though Blake’s life wasn’t exactly hanging in the balance, he hoped Grant would let it slide, when he asked, “What if I’d be unhappy with the kind of life I’d have with her? What if we want different things, and she really does want to change me?”
Grant stared at him a moment, then offered him a slap on the shoulder. “Well, bro, only you can figure that out for yourself. But if you do, and you don’t like what you see, then you end it. And I’ll be the first one cheering you on.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MEL
Mel entered the kitchen after Blake, noting the way his gaze flickered over everything in the small space except her. He pursed his lips as he tapped the side of the coffee pot. “Nice,” he said.
Mel smiled and reached past him, snatching the carafe up and filling her travel mug. The chrome gleamed under the light. Mel had been thrilled to use it after splurging on it yesterday afternoon. Sometimes, it was the little things that made life worthwhile.
Setting it back down, she tried not to notice how close they stood to each other. Or the way his black t-shirt cut off at the sleeves over the swell of his biceps. Or the rapid beat of her pulse as she caught a hint of his cologne.
Was it hot in here?
Needing some space, Mel stepped back, filling her lungs with less enticing non-Blake scented air. “Thanks. Help yourself.”
They stared at each other for a moment before she forced her feet to move. She turned around to retrieve a granola bar from a cupboard, silently laughing at herself for acting so weird.
So they almost kissed? Almost was the keyword in that sentence. It didn’t happen. Why should things be weird?
Because, kiss or not, you’re hot for him.
Mel scowled at the thought, ripped a peanut granola bar from the package, and whirled around when she bumped straight into Blake, reaching for a mug. “Oh!”
She wobbled on her feet, but Blake’s hands shot out, steadying her before she could spill her coffee, his grip tight on her hips. Her breath puffed out of her chest, and her stomach dipped as a ball of warmth pooled low in her belly. “Sorry,” she whispered.
He said nothing as his eyes locked on hers. Then he slowly shifted his dark gaze down her body, over her dark green blouse and pencil skirt. “You look really nice,” he murmured.
“Thanks.”
Blake licked his lips, the movement catching her gaze and holding it there. He had yet to let her go, and every nerve ending in her body was on high alert. Much longer, and she’d combust.
He opened his mouth to say something, just as a crash came from the living room, followed by the sound of little feet slapping the floor.
“Guess what?”
Blake jumped back like he’d been burned just as Peter appeared. His little voice echoed through Mel’s bones as she cleared her throat and forced down the flush in her cheeks.
Mel struggled to gain her bearings, while Blake smiled, seemingly unfazed. “What?”
“I haven’t had any
accidents in almost three days,” he proudly announced.
Blake shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is that right?”
Peter nodded his head enthusiastically.
“Sounds like maybe you need extra stickers on your chart.”
Peter’s little mouth dropped open, and he raised his fists. “Yes! Brady, Kinsley, guess what . . .” he called out, running back into the bedroom to share the news.
Mel laughed, whatever moment had transpired between her and Blake forgotten. “You helped with that, you know. He’s doing so well. A complete three-sixty, and I’m pretty sure I have you to thank.”
Blake shrugged and leaned back against the counter. “Nah, he’s just finally adjusting to all the changes. It was only a matter of time.”
Mel glanced down at the coffee in her hands, thinking back on what Blake had said to her Saturday night and throwing it back at him. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. The things you’ve done with these kids in such a short amount of time . . .” Her voice trailed off, her throat thickening with a swell of emotion she’d rather repress.
What will they do without him? She didn’t want to find a replacement, and she feared the second she sent the kids back to their daycare program, Peter would regress again. But what choice did she have?
“Hey,” he reached out and touched her arm like he could sense the trajectory of her thoughts. This time, there was no burning desire or electric spark, only concern sparking in his eyes as he tried to meet her gaze.
“It’s fine.” Mel waved his concern away, then straightened. “Anyway, today’s the big day,” she said, fixing a smile on her face.
Blake’s frown disappeared, and his eyes lit up. “You sign your contract, huh?”
“Yup.” Mel smacked her lips together. She was so excited she could barely stand it.
“That’s amazing. Savor it. You should be proud.”
“I will.” She hugged her travel mug to her chest, savoring the warmth it offered, or maybe it was Blake’s eyes.
Blake shuffled closer, and for a brief moment, Mel thought he might start where they left off, when he reached around her to the counter and grabbed a clean mug from the dishrack. She smothered her disappointment with a smile as he stepped back and filled his mug, then glanced over at her. “You get your dream position today, and I have no doubt you’ll finally get your house. Things are looking up.” He smiled and lifted the mug to his lips before he said, “Before you know it, you’ll have everything you want.”
Mel nodded and returned the smile. Well, maybe not everything.
THE SUBWAY JERKED AND vibrated on the rails, turning the granola bar in Mel’s stomach to concrete. Or maybe it was thoughts of Blake—a man she had no right to want and couldn’t have.
She was acting like a love-struck teenager, and she needed to stop. Even their almost-kiss hovering in the air between them like the proverbial elephant in the room wasn’t an excuse. It was one thing to be attracted to him, that much she couldn’t deny, but she needed to stop letting her imagination run wild. Maybe her unconscious desire was merely manifesting itself in their interactions. Maybe his grabbing her waist this morning was truly to prevent her from stumbling and spilling her coffee. His lingering hold on her was only her imagination running wild.
Instead of wasting her energy on a crush, she needed to focus on things that mattered, things that were real. Today was huge, and her thoughts should solely be consumed with this landmark in her career. There were zero reasons that Hillary wouldn’t extend the position as promised. Still, she worried. Once you were on the precipice of getting everything you’d ever dreamed of, it was kind of hard not to fear falling off the edge. She’d always hoped to be in this position, but with Blue running rank, she figured it’d be years, if ever. It was crazy how fast things could change.
Her thoughts drifted to Blake again, and she bit her lip. A whole different set of nerves wrapped around her stomach and squeezed. Something had changed with them this past week. There was an energy that wasn’t present before, or at the very least, had been subdued. But now it was standing to attention, raising the hair on her arms and turning her stomach to knots. When she was around him, sometimes it felt like all it would take was a single spark to ignite whatever was coursing between them.
She sighed and opened her eyes, reminding herself that he’d only be with them a couple more weeks, and then he’d be gone. Out of her life forever. Hopefully, the Triple Threat would be allowed back at school, and Blake would be back to his perfect girlfriend and their perfect life together, and Mel would return to just being Mel with her three kids.
Way to put a damper on things.
The subway stopped, and the doors whooshed open. She confirmed her stop before she took off, walking up the stairs of the station and gloomy corridor, out into the sunshine, heading in the direction of Rockefeller Center. She weaved past a group of tourists and a man hocking Gucci on the corner, toward the building and paused just outside as a tangle of nerves suddenly seized her lungs.
What if Hillary changed her mind? What if this was all some kind of a joke? Or they gave her the position but not the raise? What if they gave it to someone else? A million things could go wrong.
She pressed a hand over her stomach and swallowed over the bile rising to the back of her throat. The buzzing of her phone momentarily distracted her, and she plucked it from her bag on the off chance that it was about the kids. One glance told her it was from Blake, and she smiled.
Blake: I can’t believe I work for the executive editor at PopNewz. If I weren’t leaving in a few weeks, now would be the time to ask for a raise.
Mel laughed as another text came through with a winking emoji.
How did he know what she needed to hear in that exact moment?
She bit her lip, suppressing the smile that now threatened to overtake her entire face and dropped the phone back in her bag. Inhaling, she closed her eyes and tipped her head up toward the sun. This was her day. Her job to seize. Nothing would take this away from her.
The fist around her stomach loosened, and she relaxed. Savoring the moment, she took it all in. Today, she took one giant leap toward the life she had always wanted—a better life for her, Peter, Kinsley, and Brady.
Then she opened her eyes and stepped inside the building.
SUNLIGHT GLINTED OFF the gleaming mahogany in front of her. The office smelled of coffee and printer paper but was filled with silence as Hillary handed Mel her freshly minted contract—straight from HR.
Mel took a deep breath. She was really doing this.
Her knee shook under her desk as she glanced over her contract, skimming the legal jargon, reading more carefully over the job expectations and salary, looking for some loophole or catch. But all was as expected, except . . .
Her eyes widened over the clause below her salary. Her heart thumped, her blood electric. “Um, what’s this?” she asked, glancing up at Hillary.
“Oh, that.” Hillary waved her away. “That’s your signing bonus,” she said like it was no big deal, then went back to reading emails on her laptop as she waited for Mel to finish signing.
“Signing bonus?” Mel croaked. Her jaw practically hit her desk as she continued to stare at Hillary as if a candid camera was hidden right around the corner.
Hillary removed her reading glasses and stared at Mel like she was stupid. “Yeah. It’s customary when you get a promotion of this extent. Didn’t HR tell you when they went over everything?”
Mel had spoken with HR last week in preparation for today, and they never said anything.
She shook her head, speechless.
“Oh, well . . . Congratulations. You’ll get it as soon as you sign,” Hillary said, tapping the table in front of the contract, clearly impatient for Mel to get this over with so she could get back to work. Obviously, this occasion was not as monumental for her as it was for Mel.
Regardless, Mel was no fool. She snatched the pen off the desk and hurriedly scribbled her si
gnature on the bottom of the contract as though at any minute, someone might snatch it away and rescind the offer.
Once she finished, she double-checked it twice, then set her pen down and folded her hands in front of her over the smooth surface of the desk.
She did it. It was now official. She was the executive editor of the digital column PopNewz, and in a few short moments, she’d have a hefty bonus to prove it.
Her stomach did a cartwheel, as she pushed the paperwork toward Hillary.
Shutting her laptop and grabbing Mel’s contract, Hillary reached for her briefcase where she tucked both inside, then retrieved an envelope with Mel’s name on it and slid it across the desk. “Here it is. Happy Monday. I’m going to get some coffee.” She stood and headed out, leaving Mel gaping behind her and feeling slightly out of sorts. “I’ll be in the break room if you need me. Have those reports I asked for by the end of the day,” she said over her shoulder.
“Will do,” Mel called after her.
Once Hillary was out of sight, Mel scrambled for the envelope and squeezed it in her grip. With an unladylike squeal, she ripped it open. Sliding the check out, she held it in front of her, staring at the bold numbers leaping off the little rectangle of paper—$20,000. Twenty-thousand-dollars!
She’d never held a check for that much money before, and it was the most glorious thing she’d ever seen. If getting a large promotion meant huge bonuses, then maybe she’d make a career of job-hopping different corporate positions.
Hugging the check to her chest, she whirled around in her desk chair, then kissed it before regretfully placing it back in the envelope, and tucking it away into her purse. On her lunch break, she’d take it straight to the bank, and then she’d spend the rest of the hour pursuing houses for sale in Jersey and the surrounding areas outside the city.
It was almost too good to be true. This money, along with what she’d managed to squirrel away over the years, meant having a down payment, which meant security, getting a house sooner. Maybe Blake was right. Maybe she was on the verge of getting everything she wanted.
