Page 39 of Fire

Yeah, she was completely over it.

He took her to a greasy spoon—the perfect hangover cure. They served breakfast all day, and that’s what she got—a big stack of pancakes with a side of extra-crispy bacon. Blake opted for lunch, ordering a cheeseburger and onion rings.

Their meal arrived, and Gwen plowed through it faster than the syrup had a chance to soak in or the pat of butter on top to melt. She sat back in her seat, cradling her cup of coffee, wondering if anyone would notice if she unfastened the button on her jeans.

“Feeling better?” His lips twitched, failing to hide his amusement.

She took a deep breath hoping it would help push down the lump of pancakes that had lodged somewhere near her diaphragm. “I think I substituted a headache for a stomachache.”

Another lip twitch. “It’ll settle.”

She took a sip of coffee, watching him from across the table as he took a bite of onion ring, cleanly cutting through it with his teeth without leaving any dangling bits of onion hanging out the end. She marveled at his skill. She couldn’t bite into one without the whole onion falling out of the breading.

Moments of silence dragged before she broke it. “Everything turn out okay with whatever happened last night?” She kicked herself for not having the guts to come right out and ask him where he’d been and what he’d been doing.

He sighed, all amusement leaving his face, and she didn’t take that as a good sign for the start of a pleasant conversation.

His body language changed from relaxed to rigid as he pushed his plate away and sat back in his seat. “It went as well as expected.”

She nodded, hoping in vain he’d elaborate before finally saying, “That’s good,” when he didn’t.

He reached for the check the waitress had placed on the table, and said in a clipped tone, “You done?”

She sat up, placing her cup on the table. “Yeah, sure.”

As Blake strode off to the cashier, she collected her purse and headed for the exit. She’d hit a nerve. Wherever he’d been the night before, he didn’t want to talk about it. She knew they hadn’t been together long, and she should give him time to open up. But she hated the heavy weight of secrets hanging over their relationship, suffocating the small flame they were trying to nurture into a blaze.

She found herself at a mental crossroads of indecision. Did she take the path on the right—the one that led to Blake—hoping that when she reached its end, it didn’t lead to heartache?

Or did she go left—the easy route without the steep hills and deep pits to navigate—and take the one that ended with her heart lonely but intact?

Watching Blake as he made his way back to her and feeling almost lightheaded from the rush of blood through her veins that made her heart race and knowing no one else had ever made her feel that way, there was really only one choice.

Guess it was time to invest in a good pair of hiking boots.

They’d been driving for a few minutes when Blake turned on to Laurel Canyon that would take them over the hill into Beverly Hills—the opposite direction from her apartment.

“Where are we going?”

Blake hadn’t said a word since they’d left the diner. She wasn’t sure if he was upset, angry, or lost in thought. In any case, she hadn’t had anything meaningful enough to say to break the silence until then.

“My place.”

Surprised, she turned her head from the window to look at him. His eyes were on the road, jaw still tense. “You can drop me off at home.” She didn’t want him to feel obligated to keep the plans they’d made the night before.

She watched the effort he made to relax—taking a deep breath, slouching into his seat, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. His eyes flicked to her, and he gave her a small smile. “I want to spend the day with you. Between your work and mine, we won’t have much time to spend together the rest of the week.”

He looked like he meant that, so she eased back in her seat.

She hadn’t known what to expect, Blake hadn’t given her a clue to where he lived, but she was still surprised when he turned into the entrance of a high-end apartment building off Wilshire Boulevard. He hit a button on a remote stuck to the visor that raised a gate then took a ramp down to the underground parking.

Cruising through the lot, she noticed all the cars looked expensive. Blake’s shiny, black sports car fit right in. If they’d been in her seven-year-old Honda, not so much. Whipping into a prime parking space that had a sign with his name on it, he then helped her out of the car before walking her the few steps to an elevator that opened as soon as he hit the call button.

“I think this is the fanciest elevator I’ve ever been in.” Mirrored walls, gold accents, and thick carpeting made it a far cry from the smelly, tin box she had at home.

Blake used his thumb to press the button for penthouse two. “It uses thumbprint activation. We’ll need to get yours scanned.”

The elevator opened directly into a foyer.

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