Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Blaise pulled her sunglasses on as she stepped out into the early morning. And it was early. She seemed to be the only soul awake. She glanced at Brick’s. There was a light on. Maybe he was up making coffee. She smiled.
“Come on, Beau. Let’s get moving.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He trotted ahead with the self-importance of a creature who believed walks were his God-given right.
She supposed all dogs felt that way. She was just happy to have a partner to get her steps in with.
The Colony was really charming at this hour—the sky peach-tinted, the Gulf breeze almost cool, the gulls still quiet.
“Beau, really? That can’t smell any different than it did yesterday,” she said as he paused to sniff a palm frond that looked exactly like every other palm frond he’d sniffed this week. And he’d sniffed a lot of them.
They got moving again and her thoughts drifted back to the night before.
Dinner with Brick and Holland had gone surprisingly well.
After their initial meeting, Holland had been polite.
Reserved, but polite. Brick, bless him, had tried hard to keep the discussion light and comfortable, even if that wasn’t his nature.
It was plain to Blaise that Brick had wanted his son to like her. The effort he’d made at conversation alone was enough to tell her that.
Holland had asked her a few questions about modeling, but it felt like that was because he was more curious than impressed. And though he wasn’t the warmest person she’d ever met, Blaise had left feeling cautiously optimistic.
“He didn’t hate me,” she told Beau. “I’m calling that a win.”
Beau wagged his tail, though that was most likely because a lizard had just run across the sidewalk.
They made their usual loop and on the return, she rounded the last curve leading to her tiny home, already thinking about coffee and breakfast. Maybe eggs this morning. In fact, a veggie scramble with a little cheese sounded good. But then she slowed.
Someone was standing at her door.
Holland. His arms were crossed and his stance was rigid. He could have easily been a younger version of his father. He looked awfully serious for this hour of the day. Blaise’s stomach tightened. Had something happened to Brick? She hoped not.
“Holland?” she called out lightly. “You’re up early. Everything all right?”
He looked up as she approached, offering a tight, polite nod. “Ms. Monroe.”
Oh, boy. No first name. That was never good. And he hadn’t answered her question.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, keeping Beau close beside her.
He cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak with you. Alone.”
Right. That wasn’t ominous at all.
She forced a smile. “Well, you’ve caught me before coffee, so I can’t guarantee my conversational skills.” Then again, he was his father’s son. Conversational skills probably didn’t rank very high.
He didn’t smile back. “I’ll be direct,” he said. “My father doesn’t need complications in his life. He’s enjoying his retirement. His peace. And I intend to make sure that peace isn’t disturbed.”
It took Blaise a breath to understand him. Then another to absorb the insult wrapped in his words.
“Holland,” she said quietly, hoping no neighbors were in earshot. “If this is about last night—”
“It’s not,” he said sharply, then softened it with a tight smile. “It’s about what might happen going forward. Nothing against you personally, but if you’re considering a relationship with him, I’d ask you to reconsider.”
Beau whimpered, picking up her tension.
Blaise’s heart thudded in her chest. She’d never been great with confrontation, but this was silly. “Does your father know you’re here?” She guessed not.
Holland’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see what that has to do with it.”
“Brick is an adult,” she said. “And a good man. He doesn’t need you managing his personal life.” She didn’t think he’d appreciate it, either.
“I’m not managing it,” Holland said, hands tightening at his sides. “I’m protecting him. From being taken advantage of. If you’re under the impression that his pension or savings will make your life easier…” His gaze swept over her, cool and assessing. “I won’t allow that.”
The words hit like a slap. Sharp and humiliating. The very idea of what he was insinuating hurt.
Blaise opened her mouth, closed it, then drew a slow, steady breath.
“I’m not sure who you think I am,” she said, her voice calm despite the sting.
“But regardless of my situation, I don’t want your father’s money.
I enjoy spending time with him, and I care about him because he’s kind.
And funny. And decent. If you can’t see that, then that’s on you. ”
A flicker of surprise crossed Holland’s face, maybe conscience, maybe doubt.
She picked Beau up and moved past Holland to unlock her door, holding her dog close. “If you have concerns, talk to your father. Not me.” She hesitated, searching his expression. “And maybe think about why you felt the need to have this conversation at all.”
Holland swallowed, pressing his lips together. For a moment, he looked almost unsure. But he only grunted softly then turned and walked away without waiting for her to say anything else.
Blaise stepped inside and shut the door behind her, leaning against it as she hugged Beau, pressing his warm little body into hers.
“That dinner,” she whispered, blinking fast, “was not a win.”
Beau gave a soft, sympathetic whine.
“No, buddy,” she agreed as she set him down. Maybe coffee would help. “Not even close.”
Blaise made coffee. She paced her tiny living room as she waited for it. Beau sat anxiously in his little bed, watching her. Her hands still trembled, anger and embarrassment tangling in her chest like a knot she couldn’t pull loose.
She grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it.
Cece picked up on the second ring. “Hey, you. How’s your day going?”
“Not the way I thought it would.” Blaise’s voice trembled with emotion.
“Hmm. You sound like someone who needs carbs or a body hidden. Which is it?”
Blaise let out a breath that was half laugh, half choke. “It’s not that bad. Well...”
“Oh, boy. What happened?”
Blaise glanced at the front door, half expecting Holland to still be there. “Holland showed up at my house. Just now.”
“The son?” Cece said sharply. “Brick’s son?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He told me,” Blaise said, voice wobbling despite her best effort to keep it steady.
“That his father doesn’t need a woman in his life.
That I shouldn’t complicate things for Brick.
” She paused, swallowing hard. “And that if I’m looking at Brick’s pension as a way to make my life easier, he ‘won’t allow that. ’”
On the other end of the line, Cece went silent for a long, dangerous second. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, no he didn’t.”
Blaise sank onto the couch. Beau hopped up beside her and laid down against her leg. “He was polite about it,” she admitted. “But his words cut. I didn’t even know people could be politely cruel, but apparently Holland’s fluent.”
“Blaise.” Cece’s voice softened. “Honey, that’s not on you. That’s on him. Sons can be weirdly territorial about their parents, especially after a divorce or a loss. He probably sees you as a threat to Brick’s routine. Or, worse, a threat to his control.”
“I’m not trying to control Brick,” Blaise whispered, sick at the very idea. “I only just started getting to know him. And I thought dinner last night went well.”
“I’m sure it did go well,” Cece said firmly. “Too well, apparently. But Holland’s insecurity isn’t your problem.”
Blaise buried her face in her free hand. “I hate feeling like this. Like some…gold-digger in a Lifetime movie. It’s honestly laughable. I’ve never wanted anything from Brick but his company.”
“And I’m sure Brick knows that.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes,” Cece said. “You think the man doesn’t know what’s going on? Please. Brick’s not stupid.”
No, he wasn’t. Blaise let out a shaky breath. “So what do I do?”
Cece paused, then said carefully, “Do you want my honest advice?”
“That’s why I called.”
“Tell Brick. Not in a dramatic way. Just calmly. This is his relationship with his son to manage. You don’t need to get involved more than that.”
Blaise thought about that. “I don’t want to make things worse for him.”
“You won’t,” Cece said. “But if you hide it and Holland twists the story or tries again and then Brick finds out? He’ll feel blindsided. Better he hears it from you.”
Blaise stared out the far windows, sunlight catching in the palm fronds and throwing slivers of light across her living room. “I’m scared Brick will think I’m causing trouble.”
“Honey,” Cece said, voice warm and unshakeable, “Brick likes you. Really likes you. Or he wouldn’t have invited you for dinner. If anyone’s causing trouble, it’s Holland. And Brick will want to know.”
Beau nudged her hand, demanding pets, which somehow helped. She scratched his head.
“Okay,” Blaise said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. And if Holland ever comes at you again? Call me. I’m right next door and I’m not above taking a grown man down a few pegs.”
Despite everything, Blaise laughed. “Thank you, Cece.”
“Anytime. Now, go have another cup of coffee. And pet Beau for me.”
“I will.” Blaise hung up, tipped her head back, and exhaled. She wasn’t calm yet, but she wasn’t alone, either.
Cece was right. Brick needed to know.
And Blaise needed to find her courage.