Chapter Five
Blaize listened intently as Carys recounted the story of what happened on her way to the ranch on the phone with the sheriff.
This place’s bad luck seemed to be rubbing off on everyone who came near.
It also occurred to him that he should try calling his brothers again.
They needed to be part of the decision-making process when it came to all things dealing with the ranch, which would be happening soon if they were going to keep this place up and running.
He highly doubted Raiden or Phoenix would care about their father’s death. Not one of the man’s sons could stand to be in the same room with him. Cormac was a piece of work. From the initial look of things, he would create about as much havoc in death as he did in life.
Inheritances were tricky, especially when you were handed something broken.
The one thing that was worth saving on this place was Kit.
She deserved the world. More of that familiar guilt zinged him at the thought of how badly he’d shut everyone out of his life.
Updates on social media weren’t his thing, either.
He didn’t live his life for “likes” or any other type of approval.
Hell, he barely used his phone’s camera.
One thing was certain—he needed to quit licking his wounds over losing Lynn.
He needed to figure out how to put that chapter of his life behind him.
Because he’d blacked out a couple of times after a drinking binge last year.
Always woke up fully dressed but not always in his own apartment.
A park bench? Yes. The back seat of his Jeep? Affirmative.
Was he proud of this?
No.
He tuned into Carys as she concluded her statement to the sheriff. The call ended with Carys promising to call or text with any updates of if the mystery person appeared again. Blaize had paid close attention to the names she’d given the sheriff. Three men.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“What?”
“The names?” He probably shouldn’t press the issue, but she’d gotten up close and personal with his business. Turnabout seemed like fair play.
“The sheriff asked about the last person I dated and anyone who asked me out but was refused, with a special note toward anyone who persisted.”
“Sounds like he believes this could be personal,” Blaize said.
She nodded. “Apparently most crimes against women are committed by someone they know and trust.”
The thought of a man hurting the person he was supposed to care about burned him from the inside out. “Makes me sick to think about what happens to women at the hands of men.”
“Agreed,” she said, a little of the fight gone from her voice. It was replaced with something that sounded a lot like sorrow.
His hands fisted at the thought of someone harming her.
“And what do you think?” he asked, forcing a calm he didn’t feel. “Could this mystery person be someone you know?” A stalker?
Carys issued a sharp sigh. “Anything’s possible, I guess.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “I’d hate to think someone I know would follow me…track my moves.” She shivered. “That’s awful.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t just possible, it was likely. He made a mental note of the names she’d mentioned to the sheriff: James Gray. Ethan York. Gabe Hutchins. Blaize would do a little digging on the internet later. See what he could find out about these men.
“It’s a reality that shouldn’t exist,” he said. “Women should be able to leave their doors unlocked and not have to worry. They sure as hell shouldn’t have to live their lives in fear of the opposite sex.” Too many times, they did. And it angered him beyond belief.
He glanced at the clock, realized it was dinner time. “Are you hungry?”
“I should probably try to eat something,” she said. “Wish I’d been more prepared. I hate to be a burden.”
“You couldn’t be.” He waved a hand, dismissing the idea. Since going out to the grocery wasn’t an option, he checked the fridge to see what he could pull together. “We might have to get creative since I got in late last night and haven’t had a chance to go to the store.”
She blinked at him. “You don’t normally live here?”
“I do now,” he said before shaking his head. “It’s complicated.”
“I’m sure I can understand.”
“My father passed away and left this place to his three sons.” That was it in a nutshell.
“I’m sorry.”
“About my father? Don’t be.”
Again she blinked, looking unsure what to say or where to begin. And then she said, “I totally understand complicated family dynamics. You don’t have to explain further if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you want someone to listen.”
He thought about it for a second, decided it might be a welcome change of topic from the stresses of the day for her. But first, “How do you like breakfast for dinner?”
“Is that a serious question?” She laughed. The sound was almost musical.
“I guess not.”
He started pulling out what little supplies were there.
Knowing this was all the food in the house brought on more of that guilt that he’d been so focused on his own sorrow that he hadn’t been making sure Kit was okay.
He would never forgive himself if she went to bed hungry because he was too wrapped up in his own life to notice.
Cormac sure as hell couldn’t take care of anyone else.
Blaize should have known better. He should have stopped by to make sure Kit had everything she needed.
It didn’t take long to whip up the omelets.
He toasted bagels that looked dangerously close to being too old.
He set out an almost-empty jar of jelly.
There were a few hot dogs left that subbed for sausage.
He cut them up and served them alongside breakfast. Lastly, he had one can of pork and beans.
“This is a feast,” Carys said. “What can I do to help?”
“Set out the plates and then fill yours.” He motioned toward the cabinet, thinking how nice it was to have someone who was eager to do their part.
From day one, he’d taken care of Lynn. He’d overheard her bragging to a friend that she didn’t have to lift a finger around the house.
Looking back, she’d allowed him to step in and do everything since for her.
He never knew which version of her would show up in a given hour.
He’d loved her and made a commitment when he said his vows. So, no regrets.
“Thank you for pitching in, by the way,” he said to Carys.
“I literally did nothing.” She shook her head, but the way the corners of her mouth upturned made him grin.
Kit waltzed in. “Something smells good in here.”
“I was just about to call for you,” he said as he cut off the stovetop. “You have perfect timing.” He motioned toward the table. “Take a seat.”
Kit smiled before doing as asked. “Guess I get the princess treatment today.”
Carys put down placemats and set the table, put on a fresh pot of coffee, and joined them. “This does smell amazing.”
Those words caused his chest to puff up with pride. He glanced around the table and couldn’t help thinking this was what he’d had in mind years ago when he thought about having a family.
Whoa! Talk about putting the cart before the horse.
This seemed like a good time to remind himself this wasn’t his family with the exception of Kit. The kid wasn’t his, and Carys was just doing her job.
If that had to become a mantra, so be it.
IT WAS A shame Blaize might not be Rue’s father. Sitting here at the table with him and Kit gave Carys all the warm-and-fuzzy feelings she hoped for when she walked into a place where she had to make an assessment and leave a child.
The need for repairs made more sense now that she knew Blaize drove in last night after learning his father had recently passed.
The house had a homey quality despite the disrepair.
Places had a feeling, and it had everything to do with the people occupying the space.
In two years on the job, she’d walked into filth. This place was tidy.
One glance at the way Blaize looked at his grandmother told Carys everything she needed to know about how much he respected her. And she adored her grandson right back. Even without her mother in the picture, this would have been an amazing place for Rue to grow up.
Carys believed Blaize would get this home in tip-top shape. All it needed was a hammer, some nails, and a little elbow grease—sweat equity.
“Thanks for cooking, Blaize.” Kit stood up. She must’ve moved a little too fast because she swayed. Before she could fall, Carys was at her side with a firm hand on the older woman’s back.
“Are you okay?” The concern in Blaize’s voice melted a little more of the ice encasing Carys’s heart.
“I’m fine.” Kit tried to play it off like it was nothing. “Here, let me help with dishes.”
“Sorry, no can do,” Carys said. “I’m on dish duty. Gotta earn my keep if I’m going to stay the night.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re a guest.” Kit grabbed onto Carys’s hand as she took a step back from the table.
“It would make me feel better about imposing if you let me take this one.” Carys helped Kit across the room. “Plus, it’s way too early to end your princess treatment. How often does this come around?”
Kit smiled. “My head would swell so big we’d have to cut holes in the doors if I was treated like this every day.”
“Exactly, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasts.” Carys returned the smile, hiding her concern for the older woman. “Tell me where we’re headed, and it would be my honor to escort you, Your Highness.”
“Into the living room, if you don’t mind,” Kit said, mustering a voice that was surely meant to sound royal.
Carys made a production out of helping her into the next room and into a worn leather recliner. A TV tray with remote and a book sat next to the chair. “Can I get you anything before I take my leave, Highness?”
“This’ll do for now, but thank you.” Kit winked and then picked up the remote. “I’m hooked on a crime series.”
“I’ll leave you to your binge-watching.” Carys gave a little curtsy before leaving the room and rejoining a concerned-looking Blaize.
His face was ghost white as he stood with his backside against the bullnose counter. He white-knuckled the edge.
Carys studied him for a moment before speaking. “I got your grandmother settled.”
Sounds from the TV drifted in from the next room.
“I appreciate it,” he said in barely more than a whisper. The tension in his tone said he was stressed to the gills and ready to snap. “She didn’t say anything about being sick.”
“It’s possible she just stood up too fast, don’t you think?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. His gaze dropped to the ground. Tension radiated off him in palpable waves.
“I don’t know, and I highly doubt she’ll tell me now that she knows about Lynn.” He barely ground out the words.
“Why would you think that?” Carys asked, keeping her tone as calm and neutral as possible.
“She would believe she is only adding to my stress,” he said.
“Those are very different situations,” she said.
Shaking his head, he said, “She won’t see it that way.” He compressed his lips, forming a severe line. “My gut tells me that she is hiding a serious medical condition.”
Could be fear or a form of PTSD after losing his wife to illness.
As much as she wanted to offer some type of comforting words, she didn’t want to give false hope.
Kit might’ve been sick. Or her age might’ve been catching up to her.
Or she might’ve just been tired. All three were plausible reasons for her moments of weakness.
The storm had created a lot of excitement.
“Is Kit your grandmother on your father’s side?” she asked.
“Yes, but I don’t see how that…”
He stopped midsentence as though a few dots were connecting that her loss coupled with the stress of all the changes coming could have thrown her off balance.
“She might not be sleeping well,” Carys said. “I know when I’m tired, I wobble. Actually, it’s very much like me to walk into walls in the morning before I get my first cup of coffee down.”
Losing his grandmother after losing a wife and a father would be too much for anyone.
Blaize might not have been close to his father or care one way or another whether the man lived or died, but unresolved relationships were almost worse.
She couldn’t imagine losing the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with, especially while still so young.
Carys closed the distance between them in a couple of quick strides. Witnessing the pain in his eyes up close was going to be a mistake. It caused her to reach for his hand. He tugged her toward him, keeping his gaze locked onto hers.
Were they two broken souls who recognized each other from a place somewhere deep?
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Blaize.”
He gave a slight nod.
“And I would very much like to ask for a kiss right now.”
“What’s stopping you?” he asked.
“Fear that you’ll say no.”
He took in a slow breath. “You don’t ever have to be afraid of me.” His voice was low, gravelly, sexy.
Kissing him would be unprofessional if he turned out to be Rue’s father.
“Is it okay if I do this?” he asked, bringing his hands up to frame her face. His eyes glistened with something that looked a whole lot like need.
“Yes.”
His tongue slicked across his bottom lip. The man was sexy as hell.
“About that kiss,” he said.
“What about it?”
“I’m going to need your clear permission first.”
“Yes. Definitely yes. One hundred percent yes,” she said.
It was all the encouragement he needed. A small smile toyed with the corners of his lips—those perfect lips. The top of which formed a perfect Cupid’s bow.
In the next second, his mouth pressed so tenderly against hers it robbed her breath and dissolved the last bit of resolve she had left.