If Blaize’s mother had been interested in more than a drinking buddy, he would have done anything for the woman. By age seventeen, he’d lost track of her. She’d gotten into harder substances and didn’t exactly keep up a social media page or a steady phone number for that matter. She had, however, tracked him down on his nineteenth birthday to ask for a loan. Made some excuse about not getting paid for another week and needing food.
Fool that he’d been at that age, he had believed she remembered his birthday and called for that reason. Nope. She wanted money. Wanted him to send it via an app. He ended the call telling her not to reach out again. She hadn’t.
He cut across the hallway to the adjacent bathroom. The air was still moist from the shower Carys had taken earlier, and the scent of lavender shampoo filled his senses. He balanced on oneleg and managed to close the commode lid before setting Kit down.
“Go on. I can manage from here,” she instructed. Was she embarrassed to get undressed in front of him? Of course she was. Kit was prideful.
How could he manage to help her and salvage her pride—pride that had no doubt taken a hit when she lost her bladder. It wasn’t a big deal to him, but he understood.
“What can I grab for you from the bedroom?” he asked, realizing she would dig her heels in.
“My gowns are in the top drawer and my undergarments are in the smaller one right below it.” She sat with her back straight despite being mortified. Her tell came in the form of her chin quivering. Eyes straight ahead, she refused to look directly at him.
Telling her that he understood would do no good. So, he excused himself to head across the hall.
Carys was already pulling out the items. She held them out. “Here you go.”
Damned if he didn’t have to fight himself to keep from kissing her again.
STANDING IN Abedroom alone with Blaize shouldn’t have been the most intimate moment she’d had in too long. But it was.
As Carys handed over the clothing, their fingers grazed. An electric jolt shocked her, sending volts shooting through her hand, her wrist, up her arm. Warming her. Blaize was pure sex. Everything about him was perfection. Like how his hands were calloused and rough but surprisingly tender to the touch.
He stood there for a moment like he was trying to process what had just happened, too.
And then he turned and walked out, hanging his head low. Shame?
She hoped he didn’t feel remorse for the attraction that was happening between them. Hadn’t she read something about survivor’s guilt in cases like his? She remembered the person could feel guilty for secretly being glad their loved one’s pain was over. Could meeting someone trigger more guilt? Sharing a kiss?
It dawned on her that theirs might have been the first one since losing his wife.
Rather than try to figure out what someone else was thinking, she moved next door to where she’d left a sleeping Rue.
Carys climbed underneath the covers, closed her eyes, and then crashed.
By the time she opened her eyes again hours later, sun filtered through the slats in the mini blinds. How long had she been asleep?
She immediately sat up to check on Rue. The baby’s carrier was gone, the baby gone with it.
A moment of panic slammed into her. The door was closed. She threw the covers off and opened it before stepping into the hall and listening.
The low hum of voices drifted toward her from the kitchen. There was not a peep from Rue.
Carys headed straight toward the bathroom, almost tripped over the neatly folded clothes at her feet. What was this? She picked them up. Her clothes? Washed, dried, and folded?
She headed into the bathroom, used the facilities, and cleaned up before dressing. A toothbrush had been laid out for her, along with toothpaste. Basically, heaven.
As soon as she dressed, she moved to the kitchen. The smell of fresh brew hit her senses from halfway down the hall. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply or woken up so starved.
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, her heart skipped a couple of beats. She stopped, put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Seeing Blaize hold Rue while he talked quietly with an adoring grandmother caused her ovaries to squeeze. It would be helpful if the man could be more of a jerk.
“Morning,” she said as she walked into the room.
“Morning to you,” Blaize said with a smile that released half a dozen butterflies in her stomach. He had on jeans and a black T-shirt.
“Hello,” Kit practically chirped. Her mood had drastically improved. “Grab some coffee and come sit with us.”
Carys wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. It felt a little too much like a family scene. Considering her background, she would probably say or do something to mess it up. Plus, she needed to get her CPS agent hat back on.
