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“I do not—” Blake set his jaw. He could practically see Grant’s one-sided smirk over the line. Grant knew darn well why he took it and was just trying to goad him. “Because I need to prove that despite being abandoned and growing up without a family, I can be a good husband and father.”
Dang. It sounded so harsh when he said it like that. Made Jen’s parents look like total jerks for suggesting it.
“Right. So, go in there, take control like you did of your business. Tell them how the day is going to go. Whoop some kiddy butt into shape and prove it. Stop being a giant pansy.”
Blake clutched his phone tighter and turned, staring at the door to Mel’s place, nodding his head at Grant’s pep speech.
He didn’t often admit this, but Grant was right. He needed to suck it up, act like a man, go in there, and take charge. He was a grown man for heaven’s sake. He started his own business before twenty and lifted his brother and himself out of what would have assuredly been a life of poverty. He could handle three children. Even if the little monsters did secretly scare the crap out of him.
He could do this. For Jen. Her parents. Himself. And Mel. Her name in his thoughts startled him. He barely knew her, yet somehow she had been the main reason that kept him coming back. Because she needed him. Because he could see the desperation in her eyes, the determination to make a better life for her kids. And he could appreciate that. He saw her struggle, knew how hard she was trying, and there was a huge part of him that wanted to help her. Something about her tugged at him, and he couldn’t deny it even if he tried.
MEL
“YOU CAME,” SHE SAID as she stared at Blake from her open door.
He offered her a smile, and she had the insatiable urge to yank him inside and kiss him with gratitude.
“I told you I’d come back, didn’t I?” he asked as he stepped inside.
“Well, yeah. But so have several others before you, so it’s hard to know what to believe.” She turned and hurried into the kitchen. Snatching her travel mug, then her briefcase, she gingerly handled the strap just so in order to keep it from falling off (she’d learned that lesson a time or two), then paused in front of Blake.
Caroline had called her last night and informed her that after Lorenzo’s “research,” Blake was “good stuff.” Apparently, one of his men bought a bike from him once.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding her hands out. Her nerves this morning had little to do with the man about to watch her children and everything to do with heading into work and starting a new position she felt entirely unprepared for. Normally, she wasn’t preoccupied with her wardrobe, but things felt different now. She wore a black pencil skirt and a royal blue blouse with black heels she hoped looked professional enough. She had even woken fifteen minutes early and taken the time to style her hair and throw on some chunky costume jewelry, which was about as rare for her as seeing a zebra on the subway. “Do I look like a senior editor of a major magazine?”
As his gaze trailed her from head to toe, she felt her skin flush in response. “You definitely look the part,” he said, then rubbed his jaw and averted his eyes.
She could be completely off base, but she swore she saw a flicker of appreciation there, beyond a man simply giving his stamp of approval. “Great. Uh, the kids are asleep but will probably be up any second because they were stirring when I was getting ready in the bathroom. Coffee’s over there,” she said, glancing toward the kitchen. “There’s cereal, but we’re low on milk so—”
“Mel.” Two strong hands gripped her biceps, and she swiveled her head back to him. “We’ve got it. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us. Just worry about you.”
Mel’s heart picked up speed as relief simultaneously flooded her veins. Just worry about you. She gave a half-laugh. “No one’s said that to me in a really long time.”
While it was true she had her parent’s help for four years, she had always felt like a burden. Like her mother having to watch her kids because she couldn’t afford childcare was a huge inconvenience. The fact they moved so swiftly once her father retired, reaffirmed, in her mind, she had been right. Not that they didn’t love their grandchildren. But they were entitled to their own lives without having to revolve them around Mel’s. Hearing Blake say those words was like receiving an unexpected gift. So much so, she felt her eyes prick with tears.
What the heck is wrong with you?
She shook her head and cleared her throat, laughing at herself as she stepped back out of his grip. For some reason with his hands on her, all she could think about was how the heat soaked through her clothes, into her bones, making her heart beat just a bit faster.
Once she was out of reach, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. His leather jacket hung open, revealing a caramel-colored t-shirt that made the rich brown of his eyes look like melted chocolate. She hadn’t realized until now that his hair wasn’t simply unruly or messy, but slightly wavy. It swooped over the top of his head and fell over his eyes, and she was pretty sure it would curl if long enough.
She smoothed her skirt and exhaled in an effort to snuff out the jittery feeling in her gut. “Sorry. It’s nerves,” she said, running a hand over her hair self-consciously. “But I’ve got this, right?”
I can do this.
“You can totally do this,” he said, speaking her thoughts.
She nodded and bit her lip, thinking how ironic it was that usually, she was pretty carefree. She wasn’t the type to sweat over the small stuff or to get worked up. Giving birth to triplets, then having your husband abandon you kind of did that to you. Not much surprised her. Not much stressed her out because her and stress were in bed together on a daily basis, and she’d become immune.
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So why was she so nervous now?
Maybe because this promotion was different. She needed it desperately, and the fear it would all just go away in an instant, frightened her. That, combined with the fact that she no longer had the support of her parents, left her reeling. She was on her own. It was up to her whether she failed or succeeded.
“You know, when I first opened B’s Bikes,” Blake said, backing up until he leaned against the side of the couch, “I was a wreck. Frightened would’ve been an understatement. I mean, what did I know about owning a business? Bikes and engines and motors, sure. I could rebuild an engine with a blindfold on, but business?” He shook his head. “I was just a kid from the Bronx, lucky to come out of the system alive and fairly unscathed. I was eighteen and on my own. Everything depended on my success. I had no back-up plan, no one to rely on. And in a couple years, my brother would be eighteen and in the same boat. I either succeeded, or we were out on the streets.”
Mel frowned. “You were. . .?”
