Chapter Six
Blaize grazed his teeth across Carys’s bottom lip. The little mewl that escaped her mouth was tinder to fire. He teased his tongue inside her mouth. She tasted like dark roast coffee and honey, his new favorite flavor.
He dropped his hands, splaying them across her back instead. She arched, pressing full breasts against his chest. Pulling back enough to catch his breath, he leaned his forehead against hers.
Her hands came up to his shoulders, fingernails digging in as though she needed to anchor herself.
“Kissing you is the best thing that’s happened to me in too long” came out in a rasp as he tried, and failed, to catch his breath. Need welled up like a rogue spring storm, threatening to devastate everything in its wake.
The moment of pause brought on a wave of guilt. He bit back a curse. A child’s future hung in the balance, and he could scarcely keep his hands off her caretaker. Did that make him a jerk? Or did it make him human?
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Carys asked, as if sensing the mental debate going on in his head.
“It sure as hell isn’t you,” he said, hoping that gave her enough clarification to drop the subject without hurt feelings.
She took a step back; a sudden chill sat between them. She folded her arms and challenged him with her glare. “Don’t bother with the ‘it’s me and not you’ speech. That would hurt my feelings.”
Blaize let out a sharp sigh. “Can I make a confession?”
“Please do.” She shifted in posture like she was steeling herself to absorb a punch.
Dammit. He hadn’t meant for something this mind-blowing to turn into an insult.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time, and I don’t want to do anything to screw that up.
” His honesty caught him off guard. “That…and my choices in love haven’t exactly paid dividends.
” Should he tell her the feelings he had for her were as foreign as a poetry slam?
That he’d loved his wife but never felt this mix of excitement and ease when they’d first started dating?
“You’re a dangerous man, Blaize.”
That was all she said before she turned around and walked off. He heard her voice in the next room as she talked with Kit. And then all he could hear was the TV.
Blaize walked over to the sleeping baby in the carrier. She was an angel with just a hint of dark hair. This little girl deserved a loving home. She deserved the world but was an orphan for the time being.
It nearly broke his heart when she took in a breath.
Her face crunched like she was about to wind up to cry again like a pitcher at the plate, but then she settled.
Her eyes remained closed. There’d been so much excitement, he’d forgotten to ask for a picture of Stephanie Cross.
If the woman named him on her daughter’s birth certificate, it stood to reason he knew her.
The name drew a blank. Cross could be her married name. Did he know any Stephanies?
He had to reach all the way back to high school to pull out a name: Stephanie Ambler. Seemed like everyone had a social media page these days. Could he find her? He picked up his cell and pulled up the most popular one, figuring he’d start there.
Stephanie Ambler, now Smith, posted pictures regularly on her account.
A quick flip before the app told him he needed to log in to continue revealed she had three children.
The oldest one had a pimply face and looked to be in his early teens.
Two daughters, twins, who looked to be a couple years younger than their brother rounded out the family.
While there, he looked up the names he’d overheard Carys provide to the sheriff.
No James Gray in the immediate area that he could find.
Since Blaize didn’t do social media, he couldn’t exactly label anyone else who didn’t a serial killer.
The only app he’d used was for dating. It had been the way he met his wife.
Next he checked Ethan Hutchins. A few names came up, none in this area. Same for Gabe York.
He closed the app.
Glancing over at the spot where he and Carys had shared a kiss so laced with promise and pleasure brought back the memory of it—a memory that set the bar for all future kisses.
Guilt stabbed him. The same pang he felt every time he laughed or thought about moving on with life after Lynn’s death. Getting a handle on the ranch might be just the win he needed. He could use a new lease on life.
Blaize started out of the room, made it halfway across before he froze. Was he allowed to leave the baby alone in a room?
Taking her into the living room might wake her up.
She was sleeping so peacefully. He didn’t want to do anything to disturb her peace.
He also needed a shower and at least a few hours of sleep.
Watching over Lynn, he’d gotten used to running on five hours if he could close his eyes for twenty minutes here and there.
Since he wasn’t sure he could leave the baby and he didn’t want to call for Kit, he sat down at the table. Head in hands, he shut his eyes. The image of the kiss was burned into the backs of his lids.
More of that inconvenient need welled up.
Carys was intelligent and caring. Her beauty was beyond anything he’d witnessed before, inside and out. She had a way of looking at him that stripped him bare.
On a practical level, she was probably a decade younger and just getting started in her career.
Having a family most likely wasn’t on her radar.
He’d stopped considering having one when Lynn became sick.
At thirty-five, he figured the window was closing since he didn’t see himself marrying again.
It was all too hard. The vow for better or worse meant the world to him.
When he gave his word, he didn’t take it back.
Even if a relationship could happen between him and Carys—and that was a big if—they were in different places in life.
Damn, Wilde. You really went down a rabbit hole.
Time to suck it up and get realistic. A kiss like the one they shared needed to be a one-off event.
Period. Plus, she was already breaking too many rules as it was.
He didn’t need to add to it or cost her job.
He’d overstepped with the kiss. No matter how much he wanted it to happen again, it couldn’t.
EMBARRASSMENT STILL HEATED Carys’s cheeks despite the long shower. Kit had laid out clean clothes in the guest bedroom, which were lifesavers. Never underestimate the power of light joggers and an oversized T-shirt when it came to comfort clothes. They were basically a cotton hug.
The kiss she shared—No! Asked for—still burned on her lips in the best possible way, like he’d marked her as his. The rejection afterward stung worse than falling onto a fire ant mound.
Carys needed to pluck up the courage to go back into the kitchen and check on Rue.
She listened in case the baby needed her.
Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Except for the chirps of crickets and other insects outside the window.
The noise used to freak her out when she’d first moved out of the city. Now? They were like a lullaby.
Going into the kitchen might mean facing Blaize again. So soon?
Carys had learned over the years to rip off the Band-Aid when faced with something that might be uncomfortable. Why was that suddenly a problem now?
Blaize. The man stirred foreign feelings—feelings that had her asking to kiss the father of her ward.
How was that for professionalism? The worst part was that she couldn’t stop thinking about what it felt like when their mouths fused together.
She’d never believed a relationship could complete her.
She was already a fully formed human who didn’t need another half to feel whole.
This thing between her and Blaize was something else, something deeper.
Giving herself a mental headshake to clear those thoughts, she headed toward the kitchen.
Kit had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Carys grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it on top of Kit, who instantly relaxed. The AC window unit in the living room was still on, in addition to a ceiling fan. Kit would end up sick at this rate.
Considering the lack of noise, she wondered if Blaize had gone to bed. Would he leave the kitchen light on? The baby unattended?
Rounding the corner, she stopped mid-step as her gaze landed on the image in front of her. Blaize had his arm extended over the table, his head resting on it, using it as a pillow. His eyes were closed, and his even breathing said he was asleep.
Rue was still in the carrier that he’d placed on the floor and scooted next to him. It was a shame Blaize didn’t believe he was the girl’s father. Between this scene and the longing she’d seen in his eyes earlier when he’d looked at the baby, he was more than ready to be a father.
Instead, he’d lost a wife. Life played some seriously cruel jokes sometimes.
She’d walked into plenty of houses with kids where the father figure was so checked out he could barely be forced to step away from the TV screen to meet with her.
She was a basketball fan. She understood team loyalty.
She also knew how easy it was to record a game and save it for later.
Having walked into dozens of families’ lives in her two years on the job, she’d seen the highest and the lowest forms of parenting.
The worst of them neglected their children and provided filthy homes with just enough food to get by.
The best of them provided loving, caring environments that allowed the children to find their passions and know they always had support.
What was that like?