Page 15 of Fire

Another gift basket arrived another hour after that.

Sheila flagged her down while she was grabbing yet another dress for Mrs. Middleton to try on.

“You’ve had another delivery.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I’m starting to think they aren’t from your dad.” Sheila raised a brow as if daring Gwen to dispute her.

At that point, she thought it best to remain silent.

Sheila continued, “You want me to take over with Mrs. M?”

Gwen shook her head. “Nah, we’re almost through. I’ll check it out when I’m done.”

“Okay. It’s with the others.”

Twenty minutes later, Gwen stood in the breakroom, hands on her hips, glaring at the table. Or more specifically, the large basket filled with every beauty product a woman could dream of plus a gift certificate to La Beauté Day Spa.

He’d gone too far. She couldn’t even guess at the amount he’d spent. But it was too much, and she couldn’t accept it. Grabbing it from the table, Gwen marched to the elevator, passing Sheila en route and shouting she was going to lunch.

It only took her ten minutes to reach Fire. But an additional five looking for a parking spot. She grabbed the first available one about a block away, grabbed the gift basket, got out of the car, and fed the meter.

She strode purposefully down the sidewalk until Fire’s entrance came into view. Then her footsteps stilled.

The doors were thrown wide. Women and children sat around a long portable table that was set up outside under the awning, and at smaller table sat a clown, painting children’s faces.

What the heck?

Then she noticed the small bus parked at the curb, and things started to make sense when she read the large, bold letters painted on its side—West Valley Women’s Shelter.

Blake stepped out the door, and Gwen took a hasty step to the side so she was blocked from view by a brick pillar. Two little girls got up from their seats and ran to him, each grabbing a leg. She watched, mesmerized, as he smiled down at them, wrapping his arms around their backs. One of the women must have said something because his head came up, and she saw his mouth move but couldn’t hear what was said.

A couple more women came out of the club carrying paper plates piled with food. They sat down at the table and called the girls hanging on Blake over, presumably to eat. Blake disappeared back into the club.

Feeling uncomfortable approaching him now, she made her way back to her car, thinking the whole way. Maybe there was more to Blake Stone than she’d first thought.

Trudging up the stairs to her apartment that night after work was no small feat while holding a big-ass bouquet in one arm—its blooms blocking her view—and an even bigger basket of goodies in her other hand. The spa gift basket still sat in her trunk. Taking the elevator was out of the question. Not only did it smell like machine oil that stuck to one’s skin for hours after getting off, it also made suspicious creaking noises and was prone to do a scary stutter-jolt-whoosh before continuing on its ascent or—if you were going down—descent.

In other words, Gwen didn’t trust it.

At the top of the stairs, she took a right. Her apartment was six doors down the hall, but before she reached it, she crashed into something solid. She learned that something was someone when the vase was pried from her arm. And after the rose shield was removed, she saw that someone was Blake.

She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. “What are you doing here?”

Leaning over, a lock of his hair fell across his forehead, and he brushed it back with his fingers before pulling the basket from her grasp. “I’m here to take you to dinner.”

How did she respond to that? He had told her, not asked. She wished Allie were home. She needed some advice on what to do. Not that her friend would be of much help. She hadn’t talked to her since she’d left the club, having to get up early for work, and had yet to fill her in on all things Blake Stone. Before said drama and after.

“Um…”

He walked the two feet to her door and hands full, tilted his head. “Open it. We’ll talk inside.”

Another command. But she couldn’t leave him standing around holding her stuff all day. Speaking of which. “Thank you for the gifts, but I really can’t accept them. Especially the spa package.”

“You can and will.”

But she was already shaking her head. “It was too much.”

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