Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 604(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
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.”