Chapter Six
Ω Blakely Ω
Bronx waits for me to take a bite before starting to eat his food. I moan at the taste in my mouth. This is delicious. I see why it’s called Marry Me Chicken.
“Tell me about you. You always talked about how you wanted to be an author. Did you ever publish?” Bronx asks me.
I feel my cheeks turn pink again. I didn’t think he was going to remember. Bronx tilts his head at me and smirks. That same stupid smirk that makes me want to kiss and smack him.
“Blakely, Blakely, Blakely… Don’t tell me you write those smutty books.” Bronx places his fork down. “Tell me everything.”
“I don’t,” I answer him. “Well, not anymore. I wrote two books and everyone hated them. I’m a failed writer, so I don’t do it anymore.
I published shortly after leaving high school.
It took me over a year of writing to get it ready to publish.
No one liked it. I thought I’d try again.
No one liked it. I’m a failed romance author. ”
Bronx is staring at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“What?” I ask when he hasn’t responded to me.
“Why do you think you’re a failed romance author just because people didn’t like two of your books?” he questions. “You shouldn’t give up just like that.”
I laugh. He makes it sound like it’s so easy.
“I did everything I was supposed to. I marketed my books. I posted on all of the social medias. The reviews that came in weren’t great.
So that’s why I’m a failed author. I like what I do now.
I’m a marketer for other people, and I am really good at it.
My company is growing really fast. Enough where I really don’t have to do anything.
I get to pick what projects I work on,” I explain to him.
I know I don’t need to explain my feelings. I tried the whole indie author thing… It didn’t work out for me. Now I get to help people build their dreams and their businesses. That’s the real dream. Helping other people. He should understand that.
Bronx takes another big bite of his food. I can’t help but watch as he licks his lips. I used to think about that tongue on me more times than I care to admit.
“Are you saying that to make me feel like you’re happy with what you’re doing?” Bronx asks as he waves his fork around. “You don’t need to defend yourself to me. You do you. Whatever makes you happy.”
I shake my head. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed in me for not succeeding in doing something…” I trail off before starting to eat my food again.
Before I know it, Bronx is licking his plate clean. “You succeed in life just by getting up in the morning.” He points his fork at me. “We’ve talked about this before. Sometimes, you have to be proud of doing the bare minimum.”
I smile at his words. He’s always hated when I was hard on myself. “That means you as well.”
“What’re you talking about?” Bronx stands up to put our empty plates in the sink. “I took the worst night of my life, and I turned it around and started saving lives. I’m a hero. I have a baby named after me.”
I laugh again. “Now I know the secret behind the great Bronx Hale. He’s only doing it for the show!
He wants everyone to tell him how amazing he is.
Oh, Mr. Paramedic, save me next! Are you married?
Who’s the lucky lady?” I fan myself dramatically.
“If you don’t have someone, can I be your one true love?
” I stand up to meet him by the kitchen island.
I place one hand on his abs. It’s hard muscle. “Holy crap.” I snap out of my scene.
“What?” He tilts his head at me. “What’s wrong?”
“What the heck are you made out of?” I ask before pulling his shirt up.
His abs are toned and rock hard. I want to see the rest of him. I wonder if he’d take his shirt off for me.
“I work out?” he offers.
“How long? Can you help me work out?”
Bronx chuckles. “Sure. But I think you’re perfect the way you are.” He leans down to kiss my forehead. “And before? When you asked if I had a special woman in my life?”
I swallow thickly. I thought he knew I was joking. His hands ghost over my body before they land on my hips. “I had one special woman in my life…” He leans even closer.
I feel like time has stopped. If I moved even slightly, I would be able to kiss him.
“Yeah…” I can barely hear myself.
My heart starts to beat faster. The look on his face changes almost like he’s nervous. But it’s Bronx. What would he need to be nervous about?
Before he has a chance to tell me what he wants to say, my phone rings. He pulls away like I made the moment up and takes a step away from me.
“You should get that. Do you want more food? Or should I go get the cookies from your car?” he asks.
I stare at him. He’s going to give me whiplash.
“Whatever you want…” I grab my phone from my pocket and answer it without looking at the caller ID.