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With his eyes on his glass, Blake nodded. Lindsay sat down on the chair next to him. These were all questions she was dying to ask but didn’t dare.
“I still do work for a previous employer on a consulting basis. So...” He turned to look at Lindsay, “When I heard about your ex—”
“Mark,” she interrupted. “Please don’t call him ‘my’ anything.”
“Let’s just say, I have contacts,” he finished.
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “So who did you work for? FBI? CIA? KFC? Oh, no, sorry, that’s chicken.” She grinned.
“Mom, seriously.” Brooke laughed, interrupting her mother. She got up. “Come on, let me get you home before you start asking Blake about his family tree.”
Blake grimaced and also stood up. “That’s easy. I don’t have one. Grew up in the system. Let me walk you outside.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and for a moment, Lindsay had the urge to put her arms around him. There was obviously more to his story than he was prepared to tell.
“Please let us know if we can do anything else,” Brooke was saying.
Both Brooke and Eleanor had picked up their handbags and were on their way to leave. Suddenly panicking, Lindsay grabbed Brooke’s hand. “Surely you can stay a little bit longer. There’s still so much food left.”
But Eleanor smiled and patted her hand. “We’ll be at the bar tomorrow night—we’ll see you then?”
Lindsay nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Within seconds, Brooke and Eleanor would be gone and she’d be left alone with Blake Davidson. Just the two of them.
Help.
––––––––
“You haven’t eaten anythingyet,” Lindsay said, and pointed towards the food on the table. They were still standing after they’d both been out to see Eleanor and Brooke off. She was nervous. On edge.
“Have you eaten?” Blake asked. Maybe if they did something ordinary, like eating, the heat he could literally feel building up between them would diminish.
She shook her head and crossed her arms. “Being nearly hit by a car kinda robbed me of my appetite.”
“I’m here to make sure that won’t happen again. Glass of wine?”
She hesitated but then pulled out a chair. “Thanks. I’m not sure whether the food isn’t cold by now...”
He poured the wine and put a glass in front of her before he also sat down opposite her. “It’ll be fine.”
For a few minutes she sipped on her wine while he helped himself to the lasagna Brooke had bought.
“I really don’t think you have to stay here,” she finally said.
He didn’t answer but continued eating. He wasn’t wasting words on a conversation they’d already had.
“I’ll make sure the doors are locked. It doesn’t make any sense for you to also be here.”
He continued eating.
“Blake, damn it—you have to say something!”
“Eat.”
Muttering, she dished some of the lasagna into her plate. “I’m a big girl...”
He looked up; blue eyes met his. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
She inhaled sharply. “That’s not...I don’t... You make me so mad!”
