Page 25 of Courageous Yearnings

“You went all out, didn’t you?” he smiled. “Are you expecting me to get upset, scream, holler, or get mad?”

“Are you?” she asked openly, almost in a challenge… and his heart staggered in his chest. Gosh he loved that lofty, bossy, arrogant look on her face because there was something in her eyes that said differently.

“I should,” he began and leaned toward her, causing her to take a step backward. He immediately put a hand on the countertop, on either side of her, effectively trapping her. “Do you want me upset? Are you trying to make me mad, or do you just want a reaction out of me, Blythe?”

“No,” she whispered, not looking away from him.

“No… what?” he invited softly, waiting. That husky voice did a number on him, almost like an angel’s fingers were racing up his spine. It was hoarse before the fire, but now it was almost a little more intense. She was standing there, not intimidated by him in the slightest, yet holding her ground almost as if it were a dare.

“Why would I want a reaction out of you…”

“I think you might…”

“Why? I don’t. Remember? I might have at one point, but you certainly weren’t interested. What makes you think that I want a reaction out of you?”

“Because we left things unfinished between us,” he murmured, dipping his head slightly. “You can’t leave things unfinished, you know. In a fire, if you leave a spark, a single ember, unattended, it will grow and consume you.”

Her eyes shot to his again and he heard her breath catch in her throat at his words. Her reaction was everything, and his own body was responding to the subtle signals.

“Nothing is… unfinished,” she choked out breathlessly.

“I think it was,” he breathed, leaning closer and smelling her. “You smell so sweet, like flowers or baby powder.”

“Deodorant…”

“My favorite perfume…”

He was mindless, wrapped in the faint floral scent that seemed to belong just to her. Taking a step closer, he heard her gasp, feeling the intake of air against his chin as he was so close to her, hovering in her personal space. He wanted to press himself against her, kiss her senseless… and hesitated.

There, among the sweet smell tickling his nose – he could smell himself. Acrid, sharp, musty. No, when he kissed her for the first time, he didn’t want her to remember the smell of burned wood, plastic, creosote, or other items. He wanted to smell fresh so she could breathe him in just like he was doing right now.

“Can you get the mouse out of the shower?” he whispered against her cheek – and treasured the nervous laugh that slipped from her as he backed away, smiling softly.

He moved an arm, allowing her to exit his embrace. He watched her walk away, marveling as she glanced over her shoulder toward him when an idea suddenly struck him.

If she was going to play with him, teasing him with the mouse, then the game was afoot. He had a few ideas of his own that were blossoming within his mind, and the next few weeks were going to be fun.

He walked toward the restroom, passed her in the hallway, and chuckled as he noticed the stuffed rat sprawled across his pillow on the bed. Yeah, the gloves were coming off, and it was time to have a little fun.

“Let me get a shower, and we’ll head out.”

8

BLYTHE

Lance was up to something.

It was glaringly obvious, no matter how innocent he was pretending to be. He insisted on going to the store to get a few essentials this evening before they went hunting for furniture tomorrow. It was really sweet of him to offer to help move things with his truck, but something was up. He kept disappearing and reappearing, holding a shopping bag while they were at the mall which was a waste of time. There was nothing she really needed here - yet.

Even at dinner, he had been elusive or mysterious about things. He didn’t say much, but what he said implied there was more to this friendship or arrangement that they had. She barely knew the man; he’d rejected her and then suddenly was stepping forward to be nice or help her. It was hard not to squash down those moments, too, because she desperately needed that help.

“Can we go by my place to see if there is anything left?” she asked quietly. They were now walking through the aisles at Target. Lance was pushing a cart, picking up a few things here and there.

“It’s probably ruined with water or smoke,” he hedged, not holding back. “Most of the time, it’s not just the fire but what happens to put it out that ruins a lot of family heirlooms, treasures, and other things. I mean, even if we went and found a closet full of untouched items – they would smell heavily of smoke or…”

“I’m talking about my car keys, my purse, or…”

Lance’s hand touched hers, causing her to look up in surprise.

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