Chapter Four
Tied to Trouble
Lenor
Six Months Later
There are a hundred things I’d rather do than sit at this stupid kitchen table with Adam Blake.
Scrub the bathrooms at my B&B until my hands bleed? Sure.
Balance my books and stare at all the red numbers I don’t want to deal with? Why not?
Even, God help me, sit through one of Mercy’s hour-long lectures about “self-care” and moon cycles.
But this, planning a baby shower with Adam? Torture.
Karmen bounces in her chair across from me, glowing in that smug, just-hit-the-second-trimester way that makes me want to hug her and throttle her all at once. Her eyes dart between me and Adam like she’s watching her favorite soap opera.
“This is going to be so much fun,” she gushes, rubbing her growing baby bump with both hands.
I narrow my eyes. “Fun is not the word I’d use.”
Adam smirks, leaning back in his chair like he owns the room. Which, technically, he does—this is Blake territory, the big old farmhouse all the brothers circle around. He’s sprawled out, tattooed arm over the chair back, his dark eyes locked on me in a way that makes my pulse misbehave.
“Oh, come on, Lennie,” he drawls. “Don’t act like you don’t love being stuck with me.”
“Love is a strong word,” I bite out, flipping through the list of supplies Karmen shoved into my hand. “More like tolerate. Barely.”
His grin sharpens. “Barely is still better than nothing.”
Karmen claps her hands together, the sound far too gleeful. “Perfect! So it’s settled, you two are in charge of decorations and games. Wesley and Shane will handle food and drinks. Mercy already called dibs on invitations.”
I gape at her. “Games? Decorations? Why don’t I just...”
“Nope.” Karmen cuts me off with the authority of a woman who knows she’s untouchable. “You’re creative. And Adam,” she gives him a pointed look, “has free time.”
Adam chuckles, low and infuriating. “Translation? I’m the screwup, so nobody trusts me with the important stuff.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Karmen says quickly, but he waves her off.
“It’s fine.” His gaze slides back to me, dark and steady. “I’ll play decorator if it means I get to spend more time with Lennie.”
Heat scorches my cheeks. I drop my eyes to the paper in front of me, trying to pretend my heart isn’t hammering against my ribs.
Because this—this—is exactly why I didn’t want to be paired with him.
Adam Blake doesn’t just flirt. He invades.
He gets under your skin, crawls into the cracks, and refuses to leave.
And the worst part is he means it. For all the teasing and cocky grins, there’s something in his eyes when he looks at me, something serious, something that says he’s not joking about wanting me. And I don’t know how to deal with that.
I clear my throat, forcing my focus back to the list. “Fine. Games and decorations. Let’s just get it done so I can go back to running my inn.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Adam says, stretching lazily.
His shirt rides up, revealing a strip of tanned skin and hard muscle and that damn V that leads directly to a cock I remember extremely well, even though I have tried to forget.
My eyes flick there before I can stop them.
Big mistake. Because he catches me, of course he fucking does because he is always watching me. His grin turns positively wicked.
I shove the list at him. “Start brainstorming, Blake.”
Karmen giggles, pressing her hand to her belly. “God, you two are exhausting. Just kiss already.”
My head whips toward her. “Karmen!”
She shrugs, unrepentant. “What? Everyone sees it. The tension’s driving us all crazy. And there was that time at my bachelorette...”
“La la la la la!” I sing loudly pushing my fingers into my ears like a goddamned child. I do not want to hear about what everyone speculates happened between us or what should happen moving forward.
Both of them laugh and I know I’ve made my point. I glare at them as I take my fingers out of my ears. “We do not talk about that. Ever.”
Adam’s smirk softens into something more dangerous. “Told you, Lennie. Can’t hide it forever.”
My stomach knots. Because the thing is, he’s right. “I will walk out,” I threaten.
“Fine.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, but I know this is far from over. “You’ll give in eventually.”
Because every time we’re in the same room, it feels like a storm waiting to break. I can still feel his hands on me that night, his mouth, the way he whispered like I was everything.
But if I let myself admit I want more, if I let myself believe he could actually love me, I’ll end up shattered all over again. So I force a laugh, brittle and sharp. “Don’t hold your breath, Adam.”
He leans forward, his eyes locking on mine, voice dropping low. “Oh, I can hold it a long time, sweetheart.”
My pulse stumbles.
Karmen fans herself dramatically. “Yup. Definitely not awkward at all.”
I kick Adam under the table. He grunts, then grins wider, like I just handed him a win.
I hate him. But mostly, I hate that I don’t.
****
Two hours later, we’ve got nothing. The table’s covered in half-scribbled notes, crumpled napkins, and an empty chip bowl. Karmen’s long gone, she claimed “pregnancy fatigue” and ditched us to “bond.” I swear she planned this.
I shove back from the table with a groan. “We’re useless.”
Adam sprawls back, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Speak for yourself. I came up with at least three good games.”
“Beer pong doesn’t count as a baby shower game.”
“Why not? Babies love beer.”
“Adam!”
He cracks up, the sound warm and rich, curling into my chest despite myself and warming me from the inside. For a second, I almost smile. Almost.
“Relax, Lennie,” he says when he catches his breath. “We’ll figure it out. You and me, we’re a good team.”
I freeze, staring at him. He means it. I can see it in his eyes, the way his smile softens, the way his voice dips. He actually believes we’re better together. My throat tightens. Because a part of me, maybe the biggest part, wants to believe it, too. But belief is dangerous. Trust is deadly.
So I stand, gathering my purse and shoving papers into it. “Don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t a team. It’s an obligation.”
For once, he doesn’t grin. He watches me, something raw flickering in his gaze. “Keep telling yourself that, Lennie.”
And I do. I tell myself all the way out the door, down the porch steps, and across the gravel drive. I tell myself that until I slam my car door shut.
But I can’t make the echo of his laugh, the heat of his eyes, and the memory of his mouth disappear. No matter how much I lie to myself.
****
Of all the days for the pipes to burst, it has to be today.
I stand in the narrow hallway of the bed-and-breakfast, water pooling around my ankles, while Mrs. Peters, my most difficult guest in recent history, clicks her tongue like this is a personal failure on my part.
“Unacceptable,” she huffs, clutching her pearls. “I was promised hot water. Do you know how much I paid for this room?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. My head is pounding, my heart racing, and the wet socks squishing in my shoes aren’t helping.
“I’ll take care of it,” I manage, forcing a smile. “Please, just wait in the dining room. I’ll have someone come as quickly as possible.”
The second she disappears, I let out a low groan. I don’t have someone. I’ve been juggling everything myself—bookings, cooking, cleaning, and now plumbing? I could call the handyman in town, but he’s busy for days, and I can’t exactly have guests showering in cold water until then.
“Everything okay, Lennie?”
The voice that makes my stomach flip comes from behind me.
Of course. Of course Adam Blake chooses this moment to show up, leaning against the doorway with his usual infuriating grin, arms crossed like he has all the time in the world.
His dark t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders, and I hate myself for noticing that more than the flood spreading down my hall.
“Go away, Adam,” I snap, kneeling to shove a bucket under the dripping pipe.
He crouches beside me instead, ignoring the command completely. “It looks like you’ve got a leak.”
“Brilliant observation, genius.” My hair falls in my face as I try to tighten the valve with bare hands. “Maybe I’ll hire you as my resident useless information dispenser.”
He chuckles, low and warm. “There’s no need to hire me, Lennie. You’ve got me for free.”
I shoot him a glare, but he just smirks wider, rolling up his sleeves. “Move over.”
“I don’t need...”
“Lennie.” His tone softens, his eyes catching mine. “Let me help you.”
The fight drains out of me before I can stop it. I slide back against the wall, watching as he gets to work. His hands are steady, sure, like he’s done this a hundred times. Which, knowing him, he probably has. The Blake boys grew up fixing things for everyone else in town.
“What are you even doing here?” I ask, trying to focus on anything but the flex of his forearms.
“Wes asked me to grab a box of wine from your cellar. He said you had a case he ordered.” He glances up, his grin quick and sharp. “I didn’t know I’d be saving you from indoor swimming.”
“I had it under control.”
“Sure you did.” He twists the wrench one last time, and the dripping slows, then stops. He sits back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans. “There. It won’t hold forever, but it’ll get you through until you can get someone in that can fix it properly.”
Relief floods me. I didn’t realize how close to tears I was until the sound of silence replaces the maddening drip-drip-drip.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
His eyes soften. “Anytime, Lennie.”
We sit there for a moment, the air thick between us. My heart won’t settle. Because this is the Adam people don’t see. Not the reckless flirt, or the troublemaker. The man who shows up when things fall apart. The man who steadies me even when I don’t want to admit I need him.
He rises, offering me his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of those wet socks before you catch a cold or something.”
I hesitate. Taking his hand feels dangerous, like stepping off a cliff. But I take it anyway, and he pulls me easily to my feet, his grip warm and sure.
Our eyes lock. He’s too close. Too much.
“Adam...”
The dining room door bangs open, and Mrs. Peters stomps out. “Well? Is it fixed?”
I yank my hand back, clearing my throat. “Yes. It’s under control. You’ll have hot water by tonight.”
Mrs. Peters eyes Adam suspiciously but says nothing, sweeping past us like a queen.
When she’s gone, Adam leans in, his lips brushing my ear as he murmurs, “Told you. You needed me.”
I shiver. Damn him.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I mutter, but the smile tugging at my lips betrays me.
He catches it, of course. And his grin turns wicked. “Too late.”