Chapter 6
Victoria
My heart is racing as I wait for Blaze to round the car. I could open the door myself, but I’m frozen, absorbing his words, or at least as many of them as I can. He dumped so much bizarre information on me that I doubt I could repeat even half of it.
On the one hand, I’m exhausted and still in shock from being rescued from what I considered a near-death experience.
In addition, his story sounded like something out of a science fiction novel.
I’m not entirely sure I believe all of it, yet I’m too intrigued to tell him to take me to the bed and breakfast I had reserved.
And how am I going to take care of myself?
I really do need a bit of help for the next few days.
Blaze opens my door before reaching across me to unfasten my seatbelt. He had to do that earlier, too. Apparently, I’m not operating at full speed.
The next thing I know, he’s lifting me into his arms. He kicks the door shut and heads toward the back of the mansion. It’s huge. I’ve never been in a house like this before.
I’m surprised when the back door opens. An older woman wearing an apron pushes it wide and beckons us inside with a wave of her hand.
“You poor dear,” she says as soon as we’re in a spacious kitchen that smells like heaven and looks like it belongs on a television show. It’s modern, but at the same time, many of the elements from the early nineteen hundreds have been preserved, like the floors.
Blaze holds me tight. “Vicky, this is Gretchen. She’s the house manager and a gem. Anything you need or want, she’ll make sure you have it.”
Gretchen pats my hand where it rests against my stomach. Her eyes furrow with worry. “I hear you’ve had quite the experience. I’m sure you’re starving. I’m heating some soup for you. I’ll send it up with some warm bread. I bet you’d like a bath first.”
My stomach grumbles at the suggestion and the scent of bread that permeates the air. I suspect this kitchen always smells like fresh baked goods. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”
She waves a hand between us. “It’s just Gretchen. We aren’t formal around here.”
Blaze nods toward her. “I’ll get Vicky settled and come back for a tray.”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll find someone to bring it up.”
My head is spinning. This is a mansion. Of course it has staff. But I’m flabbergasted. I wonder how many people work here.
Blaze turns toward a stairway I hadn’t noticed off the back of the kitchen and heads up the steps, holding me as if I weigh about five pounds.
He’s extremely fit. It seems futile to complain since it’s not as if I could climb these stairs on my own.
I’m kind of stuck accepting his hospitality for the time being.
I also get the feeling he told me that wild story in the car because he thinks he’s found a life partner in me.
I should be freaking the fuck out at the idea.
Part of me is. I mean, that’s just ludicrous.
No one meets someone and falls for them that quickly.
I’m not even in my right mind. I’m feverish, and I’ve been through a traumatic twenty-four hours.
It’s possible I’m misreading this man. I’m not even sure I care one way or the other. I feel connected to him. Irrational though that might be, I do. Perhaps it’s because he saved me. Maybe I would feel oddly attached to anyone who had carried me out of that ravine.
But I don’t think so. I think it’s Blaze.
He easily holds me with one hand under my butt while he opens a door, and then we’re inside a bedroom. It takes my breath away. It’s filled with antique furniture. Like a museum. There should be a rope across the doorway so that visitors can look in but not touch.
The rug in the middle of the large room is old, too, but Blaze walks on it as if it’s not an heirloom. It makes me wince, and I twist around to look at it again.
He chuckles. “What has you so flustered now?”
“That rug. It’s very old. You stepped on it.”
He laughs harder. “Baby, everything in this house is old. Ancient. We don’t even know the ages of most things.
My cousin Dallas owned a pawn shop before he arrived.
He knows antiques better than the rest of us.
He’s slowly cataloging everything, but in the meantime, we live our lives.
We can’t worry too much about every piece of furniture, rug, or knick-knack. ”
“Please tell me nobody sleeps on that bed,” I say.
We’re in the attached bathroom now. I can’t see it anymore, but I’d say it’s about seventy years old or more.
There’s also evidence that this bathroom is being regularly used by someone.
A man. Probably Blaze. The vanity has masculine deodorant, a razor, shaving cream, and a blue toothbrush. Is this his room?
Blaze carefully sits me on the toilet seat. He’s smirking. “Are you an antiques dealer?”
I wince before pursing my lips. I shouldn’t have spoken to him so rudely. He’s saving my ass, and I’m being a bitch. This isn’t my house. It’s none of my business whether or not the occupants use their furniture.
Blaze hesitates as he squats in front of me. He lifts my chin. “Vicky?”
I sigh and look away. “I’m not an antiques dealer,” I say truthfully.
“But you know about old stuff,” he deadpans.
“Yeah.” I inhale deeply. No harm in telling him a few things about me. “I have a degree in art history. Old things fascinate me.”
He grins broadly. “Isn’t that perfect. See?”
“See, what?” I’m confused again.
“It was Fate. I was meant to find you today and bring you here. You’ll be going from room to room, cataloging the contents of this monstrosity by the end of the week,” he teases. He is kidding, right?
I didn’t get to see much of the house since we entered through the back door and my savior carried me straight upstairs from the kitchen. But judging by the size of the mansion, it has to be filled with artifacts that would mesmerize me. I’m suddenly itching to see more.
Blaze rolls his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. After a bath, you’re going to bed for three days minimum. No investigating. Trust me. This dilapidated structure we call home will still be here when you’re healed enough to investigate.”
“So bossy,” I mutter.
“You haven’t seen bossy yet, baby. You just wait.” He leans over to turn the water on and put the stopper in the bottom of the tub. After adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature, he turns back to me.
I’m still reeling from his weird comment. Does he mean that he’s usually bossier than I’ve witnessed? Or does he mean that the other men living here are even bossier than him? Both are possibly true.
He sets his hands on my thighs, being careful with the bruised one. “So here’s the deal.”
I stare at him, wondering what now?
“I’m not willing to leave you in here alone. You’re exhausted and weak, and the only thing you’ve eaten since yesterday morning is a protein bar.” He holds my gaze.
Suddenly, I realize what he’s insinuating. “I’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head. “I could go get one of my cousins’ wives to help you, but I’d rather you trust me to do it.”
My breath hitches. He wants to take my clothes off and assist me into the tub?
His gaze slides down my body and then back up. “It’s not as if I have no idea what you look like, baby. You’ve been wearing almost nothing since I met you.”
He drags his fingers along the edge of my sports bra at my shoulders.
“This thin piece of Lycra isn’t hiding much, and your tiny nylon shorts aren’t either.
I think I’ve made it clear that I’m attracted to you, but right now my only concern is getting you clean, fed, and rested.
I’m not going to touch you inappropriately.
No more than necessary to help you in and out of the tub and into one of my T-shirts. Okay?”
My breathing is shallow. I’m about to round third base with a man I just met. I never even let David get to first. The thought of that asshole makes me shudder.
“I assume there isn’t a man in your life?” Blaze asks.
I shake my head. “Definitely not.”
“But there was until recently,” he states, eyes narrowed.
I shudder. “I’d hardly call it that, but sort of.”
“You can explain more later. Let’s get you in the tub, yeah?” His hands come to the edge of my sports bra, where he hesitates. “Arms up, baby,” he says in a soft voice.
Trembling, I lift my hands, biting my lip as he eases the tight, stretchy material over my head.
It feels so good to be relieved of the confining garment.
I should be embarrassed, but it’s damn near impossible with this man.
He has a way of making me feel calm. In fact, as he tosses my filthy bra to the side, he cups the back of my neck and kisses my forehead.
He doesn’t pretend my breasts aren’t exposed. Leaning back a few inches, he trails his fingers down my arms as his gaze lowers.
My nipples are hard points. I find myself wishing he would touch them. I’d really prefer it if he’d lean forward and suck them. Where the hell are these thoughts coming from?
His voice is gravelly when he speaks again. “Can you brace yourself with your hands on my shoulders and stand on your good leg so I can get your shorts off, baby?”
I nod. Responding verbally doesn’t seem like a possibility. My tongue is stuck.
Blaze lifts my hands and sets them on his shoulders before gripping my hips to help me to my feet.
I’m faint, and it has nothing to do with my ordeal. It’s entirely because this man I met a few hours ago has his face inches from my breasts and he’s about to remove the rest of my clothes.
I’m sure I smell disgusting. I’m covered in dirt as though I rolled in the mud. Even my hair is matted. It’s going to take me an hour to comb through the curls. I’m not sure I have the energy to do that right now.
Holding my breath, I stand on my one leg while Blaze lowers my shorts and panties to the floor.
I’m naked. With a man. A much older man. I should think of this clinically as if he’s a doctor or something. Surely he sees me as nothing more than some girl he rescued who needs help. He can’t be looking at me sexually.
But I’m lying to myself. I know he sees me as a woman. The evidence is in his smoldering gaze. Not to mention he’s practically told me so.
The next thing I know, he’s lifting me off my feet and lowering me into the tub. The water is already very high. It’s been running all this time. And it feels like heaven.
“Hold your leg up, baby. Prop it on the edge of the tub.”
A few hours ago, I thought I would die at the bottom of a ravine in the desert. Now I’m lying in a warm bathtub being doted on by the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
Blaze turns off the water.
I set my heel on the porcelain, lean back, and moan. My body is covered in warmth. That’s not keeping him from seeing me, though. There aren’t bubbles or anything.
“Feel better?”
“Heavenly. Thank you.”
“After we get you into bed, I’ll prop your leg up. It needs to remain elevated.”
I look toward the bathroom door. When he says he’s going to get me into bed, does he mean his bed? I saw a lot of doors in this hallway, and he told me there are tons of bedrooms. “Is this your room?” I ask. I know the answer, but…
“Yep. The one I’ve been using anyway. Ryder’s wife, Claire, helped me choose, but if you don’t like it, we can pick another. Not today, though. You need rest and sleep.”
I stare at him. Sometimes his words are odd or cryptic. What does he mean when he says “we can pick another room”? I feel like I should say something coherent about my stay here.
“I’m sure this will be fine. I’ll get out of your hair in a few days. I can’t thank you enough for helping me. You’ve gone above and beyond by bringing me home after rescuing me. As soon as I can hobble around, I’ll get a room at the bed and breakfast or move on.”
His brows furrow as he gently cups my cheek. “I know you’re exhausted, and this thing we feel is unexpected and confusing, but trust me, it’s there. Can you let your mind relax and take things one step at a time? Bath, food, rest. That’s our goal for now. Don’t focus on tomorrow yet. Okay?”
I nod. He’s right. That’s all that matters.
There’s no sense trying to figure out next week.
I don’t even have enough information to do so.
But he did reiterate what he’s been telling me almost from the moment I met him.
He sees me as more than a nuisance, more than a stupid girl who fell and needs some help.
He might have to tell me ten times before I grasp it, but I’m confident he will. He’s determined and extremely patient.
Could I really end up in a relationship with the man who rescued me from my own idiocy?