Page 50 of Fire

“Carrot Cake?” Blake raised a questioning brow once she returned to his side.

“My hair went through an orangish-red phase before it darkened to auburn. Sadly, I’ve been Carrot Cake ever since.”

He tugged a lock of her hair. “I always think of it as dark cinnamon.”

That he’d thought about her hair enough to give it a fancy name other thanbrownset butterflies swarming low in her belly.

“Honey,” her mom called as she came into view. “You look beautiful.” She came over and kissed Gwen on the cheek.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Of course, she looks beautiful. She looks just like you.” Her dad threw an arm around her mom’s shoulders and pulled her to his side.

Her mom smacked his chest. “Oh, hush, you.” But she was blushing even as she chastised. Then her laser gaze landed back on Gwen. “Honey, are you going to introduce us?”

Snapping to attention, Gwen said, “Mom, Dad, this is Blake Stone. Blake, Angela and Keith.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Blake held out a hand and shook first her dad’s then her mom’s, keeping hold of it while he said, “Gwen’s told me so many nice things. And I agree with Keith, you’re as lovely as your beautiful daughter.”

If possible, her mom’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and Gwen rolled her eyes. Talk about laying it on thick. No wonder he hadn’t been worried about the meeting. He’d have them eating out of his hand by the end of the evening.

“Yes, well,” her mom fiddled with the collar of her blouse, “thank you, Blake.”

Blake released her mom’s hand and came back to Gwen’s side, snagging her fingers and entangling them with his.

“Well,” her mom clapped her hands, seemingly recovered from her Blake Daze. “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Why don’t we all go into the living room for a drink.”

Gwen and Blake followed her parents out of the entry, past the dining room, and into the living room where everyone took a seat—Gwen and Blake on the couch, her mom in an armchair—except her dad who went straight to the bar.

“What can I get you kids?”

“Just water for both of us, Dad.”

Keith turned and looked at Blake.

“I don’t drink, sir.”

Her dad nodded as if he liked that answer. Score another point for Blake.

“So, Gwen hasn’t said much—” Her mom stopped as if suddenly realizing how rude that had sounded and quickly backtracked. “I mean. I haven’t talked to Gwen much since you started dating. What do you do for a living?”

“I own a nightclub.”

Her dad came over and handed them each a water. “A termite walks into a bar—”

“Dad, no.”

He raised both brows. “What?”

“No jokes tonight.”

He made to say something, but her mom interjected speaking loudly to drown him out, “So do you like owning a nightclub?”

Gwen sent her mom a silent thank you in the form of a grateful smile.

A few minutes later, a timer went off, and her mom excused herself.

“Need help?” Gwen asked before she could walk away.

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