Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Wade
Elouise was either too tired or simply incapable of hiding her deer-in-headlights expression when I said I was going to stay at the Lamplight Inn, and it only further confounded my opinion of her, which was troubling for a man like me.
I dealt in opinions for a living. The opinions of my clients. The opinions of a jury. Of a judge. Opinions—right or wrong—were currency in my world, and I was the metaphorical banker. I traded on the opinions of the jury, sold them my opinion of my client, and bought the opinion of the judge. Not literally, but with evidence and case presentation. And I was damn good at it.
But while I’d normally be able to form that very first opinion of someone within moments of meeting them, my opinion of Elouise Kinkade wouldn’t stop changing. Trying to understand her was like trying to hit a moving target.
On the one hand, when she’d crashed into me, my instant opinion was one of genuine, shy sincerity. Every word, every action as she tried to dry my shirt and tie, when she insisted on pouring me a cup of coffee, and even just now, when she realized she had no way home… was like looking through a stained-glass wi ndow. Not only could I see through to every thought, every motive, but her emotions colored everything from her cheeks to her tone.
And that kind of inherent honesty, hidden in plain sight, was so unbelievably—unexpectedly—attractive to me. All I wanted was to know more. All I wanted was to know what her hair would feel like between my fingers and just how many shades of pink I could turn her porcelain skin.
But when I did learn more, my opinion of Elouise veered drastically off-course. Blaze’s girlfriend. The very thought made as much sense as driving the wrong way down a one-way street.
It wasn’t true—couldn’t be true. And it had nothing to do with her.
“Is that alright with you?” I asked and pulled up directions to the inn, watching Elouise from the corner of my eye as she buckled her seatbelt, her expression somber like she’d just clicked the final nail into her coffin. “Miss Kinkade?”
“I’m sorry?” Her lashes fluttered, dusting a fresh coat of pink onto her cheeks.
Tension rippled through me, and my cock swelled. I guess there were some parts of me whose opinion of Elouise didn’t change. She was beautiful, and I was attracted to her regardless of who she was… or wasn’t.
“Is it a problem if I stay in Blaze’s room, Miss Kinkade?” I repeated, unable to temper the edge in my voice.
“No, of course not,” she murmured.
The navigation dinged, and my hand tightened on the wheel, making the next turn toward Friendship . My focus dissolved into the shadowed road ahead, the full moon lending the palest gleam through the canopy of trees.
My gaze darted to her, catching the way she worried her bottom lip between her teeth and stared blankly out the window. Dammit. My jaw tightened, caging the swell of frustration that wanted to escape from my chest.
Blaze didn’t have girlfriends—didn’t do girlfriends. The media knew that. His friends and coworkers knew that. Even Mom knew that. And I had a folder of NDAs from his casual hook-ups to prove it. One—maybe two—nights was business as usual for Blaze.
Not this. Not her.
So, either my brother had completely changed who he was… how he’d lived… in a matter of months, or all of Lou’s stained-glass emotion was nothing but a smoke screen, and my opinion of her was wrong from the start.
Whatever the truth, I was going to get to the bottom of it.
I glanced over, seeing her head was now tipped back and her eyes closed. Even if she could fall asleep in the span of a few seconds, the anxious clasp of her hands in her lap told me she wasn’t sleeping.
“Can you tell me what happened earlier? When he fell?” I asked, my voice betraying my exhaustion.
The long column of her throat bobbed, and slowly, her eyes opened. I wished I could say for certain that her unsteady inhale or her downcast stare were signs she was hiding something, but in the impossible chance she was actually dating Blaze, reliving what happened tonight—what happened to him—would make anyone equally as unsettled.
Her tongue swiped across her bottom lip, and she began slowly, “I was downstairs at the reception desk, finishing up my nightly checklist. I went to grab water from the kitchen and heard a door slam upstairs. His. There are only a few rooms, and it’s an old inn, so I know the creak of each step in the staircase and the sound each door makes when it opens and closes.”
Again, I didn’t just hear the truth in what she said but the emotion that tinted it. Lou noticed that minutiae because she cared deeply about every piece of the building. It was in her voice. It was in her description. This inn was like family to her. And not the estranged kind.
What if she saw things in Blaze that no one had seen before? What if that changed him? No, I assured myself. It wasn’t possible. The fact that he drunkenly fell down a flight of stairs was proof he hadn’t changed. This was typical Blaze, and Lou was the piece that didn’t fit.
“I heard him coming down the steps, and something didn’t feel right, so I hurried back, but I didn’t see—couldn’t stop—” She broke off as her breath caught so harshly she started to cough. “I’m sorry.” She held her hand to her throat.
“Don’t apologize.” I couldn’t stop my interruption.
She apologized too much. At least a half-dozen times since I’d met her only a few hours ago, most for things that weren’t her fault. My brother being too inebriated to stay upright was definitely not her fault.
“The next thing I knew, there was a loud crash. Several of them as he fell… and then it was quiet.” And so was she, her voice whittling into almost a whisper. “And he was just lying there on the floor. Not moving. Blood on his head. On the floor…”
I glanced to her at the exact moment the moonlight caught on a solitary tear as it tumbled off her cheek and landed on her thumb. The instinct to reach over and wipe it away was as surprising as it was strong, and I quickly buried it.
I had no room for my emotion, only facts if I was going to protect Blaze from people who would try to exploit him. Lou seemed genuinely distraught over what happened, so I decided not to push her for more, at least not from that part of the story. The only thing I didn’t trust right now was 3 a.m. Wade with any more of her tears.
“How long were you seeing Blaze?” I changed course as we entered into Friendship, the sleepy streetlights welcoming us to a veritable ghost town.
“Not very long,” Lou repeated her answer from earlier. Was she distracted or purposely vague?
“What does that mean?” I pressed.
There was a reason the devil lived in the details, and that was why I asked for them. Lying was difficult, and the more someone had to work to keep up the ruse and fill in the fabrication, the harder it became.
“He checked in only a few months ago… in April.”
“And that’s how you met? At the inn?”
She nodded and curled into the passenger seat like she wished she could disappear into the black leather and avoid me altogether.
So, Blaze hadn’t come here because of her. He’d come here… and found her.
“And the Lamplight Inn… it belongs to you?”
“Yes.” Her head bobbed with a surprising burst of enthusiasm. “I purchased it last year and finished the restorations.”
“When did you open?” I heard myself ask, not because there was any insight to be gleaned from the answer, but because I wanted to see that eagerness light up her face.
“Officially? The first week in January, but my sister got married there in December, and we had some friends and family stay.”
“Very impressive.” I made the mistake of looking at her when I said it. Her lips parted at the praise, and a bright pink stained her cheeks. Fuck. How would she look if I really praised her? If I kept praising her? What sounds would those full lips… “And you run it by yourself?” I croaked, my dick deserving the kind of pain it was in.
What the hell was I thinking?
“Yes. For now.” Her tongue swiped along her bottom lip. “Sometimes my family helps out here and there, but it’s mine. I live in one of the suites, so it makes it convenient to be there…”
And to be around my brother all the time. My jaw started to tighten as we pulled up in front of the two-story brick building.
If someone had painted a postcard of an idyllic New England inn on the coast and then magically brought it to life… well, this was it. The wrought-iron fence was more quaint than foreboding, and the single candle in every window lit like beacons of hospitality, beckoning weary travelers inside.
I parked out front, and the car wasn’t even off before Lou was out of it and rushing to the front door. I followed a few steps behind her.
As soon as we entered, the younger man hunched over the reception desk looked up and relief doused his features when he saw Lou.
“Lou. Thank God. Is everything okay?” He rushed over and wrapped her in a big hug. He had to be one of the family she was just talking about, the way she melted into his embrace.
Was my brother this gentle with her? Did he praise her, too? A raw, burning sensation gripped my chest, and I jerked my eyes away.
I shouldn’t be thinking those things. In either scenario, whether she really was Blaze’s girlfriend or was pretending, it was wrong.
“Yes. I mean, no, but yes. He’s stable for now,” she answered, and I ignored how it got easier to breathe when the man let her go. I was the next focus of his attention, and Lou turned and introduced us. “Max, this is Mr. Stevens. Blaze’s brother. Mr. Stevens, this is my cousin, Max.”
“I’m sorry about your brother,” the cousin said as he extended his hand, his smile pure sympathy.
I shook it. “Thanks.”
“Thanks for holding down the fort for me, Max,” Lou said and linked her arm through his. “I can handle everything from here, if you want to head home, and we can talk tomorrow.” She guided him to the door like she couldn’t get him out of the building fast enough.
I gritted my teeth. Did she not want me to talk to him? And why not?
“Are you sure?—”
“Yes.” She nodded. “It’s been a long night. Please…”
Or was she bone-tired and wanted to go to bed? After the night she’d had, it was equally as plausible.
“Alright. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Max conceded .
As soon as she closed the door behind him, Lou faced me, her glasses dipping a little on her nose, but she was too tired to notice.
“I can take you upstairs to your brother’s room.”
Without waiting for my reply, she made for the staircase that wrapped up the right-hand side of the hall to the second floor. Her pace slowed on the first couple of steps, pain creasing her brow as though she were reliving those last moments of Blaze’s fall.
When we reached the top, my brows rose silently when she used a giant metal key to unlock the first door on the left, open it, and turn on the light.
“This is—Oh no…”
I stared over her shoulder into Blaze’s room. It was a disaster. Worse than a disaster. Clothes and sheets and blankets… everything was everywhere. The chair tipped over, a lamp on the ground. Jesus.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice catching on the sob she clearly tried to hide. “I didn’t realize—Just give me one minute, and I can clean this.”
In another time and place, it would’ve been comical the way she hopped through the room, trying to avoid stepping on Blaze’s clothes. My brother clearly couldn’t care less about them since he’d thrown them on the floor.
Instead, I only saw another victim of my brother’s emotions. One who was desperate to clean up after him and try to put him to rights.
I knew because I’d been one, too.
There was something about being an older brother. A kind of protectiveness that just seemed innate. I remembered when Blaze was little, before we’d been forced apart. I remembered sharing my toys and teaching him how to ride a bike. I remembered pretending never to be able to find him when we played hide-and-seek because I loved the way he smiled and laughed when he thought he outsmarted me.
I’d never forget the time he’d been hiding behind the couch in Dad’s study. He’d been so excited I’d missed his hiding spot that when he jumped out to try and scare me, he’d knocked over a side table and shattered the vase sitting on top. I told him it would be okay, that it was an accident, but it wasn’t okay. Dad was furious.
The next time something like that happened, Blaze and I were racing our bikes down the driveway. He lost control at the end and crashed into the side of Dad’s car. That time, I told Dad it was me. That the scratches on the car were my fault. I braced for the same anger… but it never came. There was annoyance. Frustration. But in the end, he thanked me for telling him and told me to be more careful in the future.
Even though we were only kids, it didn’t take long to learn we wouldn’t be treated the same.
At first, it was a last resort if something bad happened. I’d take the fall because the fallout would be less. But as time went on and as Dad started to hound Blaze for other things—grades, school, his interest in acting—that was when he began pushing the limits. Purposely acting out. Causing trouble.
One night, Blaze stole the keys to Dad’s Mercedes and drove to the movies. He was fifteen, and it came back with a dent in the bumper. I remembered pacing the kitchen until he got back and then demanding what he’d been thinking. Blaze tossed the keys at me and said, ‘What does it matter? It’s not like he’ll ever punish you for it.’
And that was the moment I realized my brother hated me. All those years I’d protected him, he’d only grown to resent me because, to Dad, I could do no wrong.
After that, things got bad. And once Blaze moved to Hollywood and became a celebrity, things got worse. And still, every time he or Mom called, I came. To protect him. To hide the mess. And somehow, that only made him resent me more.
“Goddammit,” I muttered and strode into the room. I wasn’t going to make her clean up his mess alone.
While Lou started by righting and up righting all the furniture and decor, I bent and picked up piece after piece of Blaze’s clothes. He was always like this—a tornado when he felt like the world was closing in on him, and Mom always cleaned up in his wake. Was that what Lou was having to do? Take care of the man she was dating like he was a child?
Another surge of anger went through me, frying the already frayed ends of my nerves.
Was Blaze taking advantage of her caring nature? Or was she looking past his flaws for the payout his fame promised?
Silence chewed through the minutes like a flame down a fuse, and when the room began to look hospitable again, and Lou started to strip the bed, my fuse ran out.
“What happened here? Why did he do this?”
She stilled, her eyes dropping. “I don’t know.” Bending forward, she tried to wrangle the fitted sheet off the farthest corner as though I wasn’t standing right there and able to help.
Was she innocent, or was this all part of her ruse? I hated that I couldn’t tell.
“I don’t believe that,” I said bluntly and unsnagged the elastic corner to help her. “I don’t believe that the woman he’s dating—the woman he’s basically living with”— what else would you call the two of them inhabiting the same building— “doesn’t know why he was drunk and left this disaster moments before falling down the stairs.”
Now, her cheeks bloomed bright red, and it was the only spot of color on her.
“I don’t… I mean… I don’t know what happened.” Lou balled up the dirty sheets and dropped them on the floor, bringing her gaze to mine. “I was downstairs working in the kitchen. When I saw him earlier, at dinner, he was upset.” She shuddered and went to the chest of drawers, pulling out a fresh set of linens from the bottom one.
“You went to dinner? I thought you were the only one who works?—”
She shook the fresh sheet open with a loud snap. “No, we didn’t go to dinner. He ordered food to the inn, and I brought it up to his room.”
That didn’t sound like Blaze, either. My brother loved going out. Loved being seen. Loved being loved.
“And you didn’t ask him why he was upset?”
A quiet fury flashed in her eyes. “I tried. I started asking questions, and we… argued.”
“About what?” I grabbed the other side of the sheet to help her again, seeing how she was determined to put it on single-handedly.
She tucked the sides of the sheet, her movements frantic. “It’s personal.”
“My brother’s in a coma, Miss Kinkade,” I ground out. “Personal isn’t really going to cut it for me right now.”
She flinched, the tension in the room rising with each breath, but for as accommodating as she’d been, for as quick to please as she’d appeared, I’d suddenly come face to face with a fortitude I hadn’t expected.
I didn’t know what infuriated me more, the thought that this woman was out to take advantage of Blaze or the idea that he’d found someone who seemed quiet and pliable on the outside but, when tested, had a backbone of steel.
She finished arranging the pillows back on the mattress, and I realized she wasn’t going to answer me, no matter how hard I glowered at her.
My sudden admiration of her snapped my restraint. It didn’t matter what my opinion was of Lou Kinkade or if she liked me—or now hated me—my first responsibility was protecting my brother. And if the last decade was any proof, when it came to Blaze Stevens, everyone was guilty until proven innocent.
“So, what was it? Were you trying to pressure him into a relationship?” I demanded coldly.
“What?” She started to round the bed, her brow furrowing.
“Were you trying to blackmail him?” Gone was the last of my finesse.
She tripped and saved herself by catching the back of the chair she’d righted earlier. When she looked at me, her eyes were giant amber orbs behind her glasses, her cheeks void of every fleck of color.
“Are you… are you serious?”
A distant part of me—the one in the center of my chest that obscured rational thinking—winced at the damaged tremor in her voice. But I ignored it. I had to.
“Serious?” I laughed bitterly. “Yes, I’m serious. I’m the serious one. Not Blaze. The only thing serious about the ‘relationships’ Blaze engages in are the signed NDAs he gives me. And still, those women try to find some way to swindle money from my brother’s fame, fortune, or his family.”
Her eyes widened with every word, but I couldn’t stop. My tirade was born from years of ballooned frustration pricked by a single traumatic event. My brother—my little brother—was in a coma, and I hadn’t been able to protect him. I’d witnessed all kinds of theatrics over the years when it came to Blaze’s women, and if this woman, no matter how different she seemed, was trying to take advantage of him now…
Guilty until proven innocent.
“So, which one is it this time? Did you think he was promising a relationship when it was only sex? Is it a sex tape you threatened to leak because he doesn’t want a relationship?” My shoulders heaved with the weight of my growl. “Actually, it doesn’t even matter. Just tell me how much money you want to drop the act, or go ahead with whatever your little plan is and face every legal resource at my disposal.”
Her visible, instinctual flinch brought my self-loathing front and center. I hated myself for having to think this way. For having to talk to her this way. But in all these years, I’d never been able to protect my brother by being a hero. The only way to keep him safe was by becoming the bad guy.
“Now, I understand…” Lou said softly, almost in a daze.
She came toward me like a lamb approaching a lion, holding my stare until she was in front of me. Again, I felt her fortitude rush like a gale wind against my chest, invisible yet powerful.
“Understand what?” I rumbled, my eyes burrowing into hers.
I wanted to understand what happened, what my brother was thinking. But most of all, I wanted to understand the hot, electric undercurrent running through my veins right now. I wanted to understand the instinct to reach for her, to undo her hair and run my fingers through its lengths, and then to bring those innocent-seeming lips to mine and taste the whole of her truth… and bring color back to her cheeks.
I needed to understand why the hell I wanted my brother’s girlfriend so damn bad.
“Earlier tonight, when we argued… he told me not to look at him like that. Like you do,” she answered slowly, her stare glinting. “Like the way you’re looking at me now.”
“And what way is that?” Even as I bit out each word, I knew I’d regret the question.
And I did.
Her answer chewed right up what was left of my justified cruelty. “Like I’m a disappointment.”
Goddammit, Blaze.
“Look, Miss Kinkade?—”
“I don’t care what you think,” she declared, lifting her chin even though it made the quiver of her bottom lip painfully obvious. “I told you the truth. He was upset. I don’t know what happened. I was working all day, and when I went to bring up dinner, I tried to ask if everything was okay, and he wouldn’t tell me. So, I came back downstairs, and that was the last I talked to him. Maybe he was coming down to explain. To apologize—” She broke off with a small cry, her hand covering her mouth.
It was nothing. The smallest, weakest of sounds, and yet it pierced right through my chest as though it were a blade with a tip that targeted the heart.
Dammit.
“I’m going to bed. I have to get up in three hours to get breakfast ready…” She broke off and wiped the back of her hands on her cheeks. “I’m happy to answer any other questions you have tomorrow, Mr. Stevens.”
She walked around me and out of the room without a backward glance, the soft sound of her muffled cries hitting my chest like lashes of a whip.
“Fuck,” I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face. I’d fucked up, but to go after her now would only dig the proverbial hole deeper—deeper enough to bury myself in.
Closing the door, I set my alarm for three hours from now. I’d meet her that early so I could make amends. I wasn’t sorry for not believing her. There was something off about all of this—her and him and what happened tonight—but I’d been an asshole about it, and I shouldn’t have been.
I didn’t even bother to undress, lying on top of the covers in my coffee-stained clothes and closing my eyes. Dammit. I reached down and adjusted my cock. I shouldn’t be hard right now. Hell, I shouldn’t have wanted her in the first place. Not when I saw her. Not when I learned who she was. And definitely not now after I’d pretty much guaranteed her hatred of me. I shouldn’t be wanting what I couldn’t have.
Hopefully, three hours of sleep would fix my momentary lapse in judgment, too.