Page 37 of Fire

Of course, it wasn’t. She’d barely managed to get herself into bed, let alone plug her phone in to charge. She scanned the room, looking for her purse. She spied the long strap peeking from under the bed. How it had gotten there was a mystery that would never be solved.

Pulling out her phone, she checked it. No missed calls and no texts. Plopping down on the edge of the bed, she stared at it debating whether to text him. She even pulled up her contacts and stared at Blake’s name. After a full minute, she decided, fuck it, she didn’t care if she sounded needy. She was worried. And if he had a problem with that, best to lay the cards on the table now and let him know what he was getting himself into.

Clicking his name, she typed,Hey, making sure you’re okay. Call me. Then not wanting to sound too needy, she backspaced, deleting thecall meand hit send.

Now for coffee.

Blake got into the car, turned over the engine, and cranked up the air-conditioning. The inside was like an oven from sitting in the sun all morning. He scrubbed his hands over his face trying to wake himself for the long drive to come. Rancho Palos Verdes was only thirty miles away, but it would take him at least an hour to get home in Monday-afternoon traffic.

He wanted to see Gwen.

He’d hated cutting his evening short with her, but after dealing with a botched delivery of Jameson, he’d gotten a phone call from Carol and knew she wouldn’t have called unless things were crucial. He’d had to leave.

He pulled his phone out and plugged it into the car charger. It had died sometime in the early morning hours. He waited for it to turn on and saw he had three missed texts—one from Scott, one from Reggie, and one from Gwen. He tapped on Gwen’s name first and felt a pang hit his stomach when he read her text. Shit. She was worried about him. He should have called before his phone died, but he’d had his hands full. Literally.

He typed out a quick reply.On my way home. See you soon.

Next, he pulled up the text from Reggie.Closing went fine. Your girl got drunk off her ass. Put her and her friend in an Uber.

Seeing red, he hit the call button and didn’t stop for pleasantries when Reggie answered. “When I say, make sure she gets home safe, that means you take her home and walk her to her door, not stick her in a fucking Uber.”

There was a moment of silence before he heard a throat clearing. “Sorry, boss. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn lucky she did make it home safe or your ass would be looking for a new job.” He clicked off the phone and threw it into the cup holder.

The text from Scott could wait. He wanted to get home and see for himself that Gwen was all right. He knew she made it home—her text to him had come an hour prior—but he didn’t like the fact she’d been drunk. Or that maybe he’d been the reason she’d gotten that way.

He stopped at home first to shower and change then headed for Gwen’s.

Allie answered the door, and not even giving him a chance to say hello, said, “She’s not here.”

“Where is she?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Errands.”

He pulled out his phone to text her.

“What happened to you last night?”

He glanced up from the screen long enough to see the scowl on Allie’s face before glancing back down and typing,Where are you?What he didn’t do was answer Allie’s question.

“You don’t owe me an explanation, but you will need to give one to Gwen. You’re already on shaky ground, bailing on her like that.”

His eyes snapped back up. Allie was leaning casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest. “Reggie didn’t give her my message?” He better fucking have, or he really would fire his ass.

“No. He did.”

Blake nodded, looking back down at his phone. Still no reply from Gwen.

“But don’t you think it would’ve been better if you’d told her yourself?”

“What’s the difference?” he answered distractedly. Why the fuck hasn’t she answered yet?

“You could have explained.”

“I didn’t have time. I needed to leave.” He pushed the button to make sure his ringer was turned up.

“Then you should have called and not sent your goon. It’s called common courtesy. You hurt her.”

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