Page 67 of The Pucking Grump

I finish the song about my father just as Blake comes strolling back into the room, freshly showered with a clean pair of sweatpants. He settles beside me on the couch.

“Tough,” he says, staring down at the lyrics about my father. “Quite a departure from writing about roses in eyes and whispers in gold.”

I grin. For once, he’s actually teasing and not mocking. “Yeah.”

“Your fans are going to be shaken.”

Worry rises up my gut. “Do you think they’re going to hate it?”

Blake stares at me strangely. I melt under his gaze. He reaches out and brushes a lock of hair from my face. “I think they’re going to fall in love when they meet the real you.”

My heart bangs in my chest. Every nerve in my brain is on full alert, waiting for him to add something else to that statement. Like, as did I.

But Blake looks away and reaches for the remote. Quelling my disappointment, I look down on my notepad and flip the page again. With Blake being so near, it’s hard to figure out what to write next.

He turns to me again. “You going to write about Ben, too?”

Is it my imagination, or does he sound almost . . . pissed? Is he jealous?

Is this a real relationship?

“Yeah . . . maybe.” The real answer’s no, but it doesn’t hurt to poke a little.

Blake’s lips thin. “Why was he at the game, anyway?” His tone is casual enough, but I can detect just enough interest underneath his words.

I shrug. “He said something about my dad. You know, all of his threats. He was trying to warn me about it.”

“You didn’t tell him your dad already took the time to give you a heads up?”

Yeah, that’s definitely jealousy.

“Yeah, I did. But Ben said he only told me because he was hoping I’d fire Kevin and hire him back. When I told Ben I’ve got my dad under control, he?—”

“Started to talk about how he wanted you to get back together?” His lips are practically non-existent.

“Well . . . yeah.”

Blake’s shoulders are stiff. I’m torn between reassuring him and backing away. But then he turns to me with a glint in his eye. “Be sure to add a hint of his desperation to your song.”

I’m partly relieved, but also disappointed.

Looks like I’m not going to get any clearer on Blake’s feelings tonight.

He starts to flip the channel, settling on E! A familiar pit in my stomach forms as I see the reporters. But this time, they’re talking about a fashion trend.

“You don’t need to worry about them.” Blake obviously caught something on my face. “Or your dad. I don’t care how many worms he’s got underground on Reddit or wherever. The internet is going to love you, especially after you give them a great album.”

A surge of gratitude wells up inside me. Without thinking, I move closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder. We’ve barely had any non-sexual physical contact before, and I’m surprised at how normal it feels. Blake moves even closer, placing his arm around me.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “I hated having anyone in this cabin . . . until I met you.”

My heart is beating fast in my chest. Does he mean . . .?

I don’t quite finish my thought before Blake’s lips are on me, softer than they’ve ever been, but every bit as passionate. I yield instantly, my arms going up so he can pull my shirt over my head. I’m wearing one of my sexiest bras tonight, and I take a second to be grateful about that before Blake unhooks it and sends it flying off to the other end of the room.

“Fuck,” he says again. His mouth finds my nipple, and he starts to suck, causing me to arch my back and moan loudly. “Didn’t even realize how much I missed you.”

My arms push against his chest, desperate to touch every bit of his skin. Soon, I’m tugging at his sweatshirt and running my fingers down the hard muscles of his chest. Blake’s arms grip me and pull me closer, still sucking my nipple, switching from one breast to the other.

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