Page 9 of House of Soot

The conversation continues, and I’m amazed at how he actually listens when I talk about my dreams for the estate gardens. His eyes crinkle when he laughs at my story about thetime I accidentally fertilized the roses with coffee grounds and the whole garden smelled like a cafe for weeks.

His genuine interest warms something deep inside me, a place I didn't realize had grown cold from years of one-sided pining. I take a sip of wine to hide my smile, but it spreads anyway. How many times had I tried to share these same stories with Ronan? The attempts always ended with his brushing past, phone to his ear, too important and busy for someone like me. Just the help.

"You know what's funny?" I trace the rim of my glass. "I used to practice conversations in my head while I worked, imagining a magazine wanting to do a story and asking about the gardens."

Blaise's hand finds mine across the table again. His thumb brushes my knuckles, sending tingles up my arm. "I’m not a magazine, but your practice has paid off."

I tilt my head to study him, feeling a little bit like he’s too good to be true. “Please tell me you’re really interested in gardens.”

His eyes sparkle. “I’m really interested in you.”

All those years spending my heart on someone who never gave me a second glance. And now, here with Blaise, I finally understand what real connection feels like when it’s two-sided.

He gives me a sheepish smile. “This is the time when you tell me you’re interested in me too.”

My face feels hot. I duck my head, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t interested.”

He laughs. “But you’d rather be with Ronan?”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“It’s no secret that you like him. I can see why. Rich. Powerful. Handsome.”

“You’re handsome,” I blurt out.

“Well, I’ve got one thing going?—”

“And you’re kind. No one has ever shown an interest in the garden like you have.” I have this panicky feeling like he’s going to leave. “Ronan doesn’t know I exist. It was just a silly school girl crush. For a time, I thought if I worked harder, planted prettier flowers…" I shake my head, realizing I’m babbling.

"No." Blaise squeezes my hand. "Sometimes, the best blooms come from letting go of what isn't growing."

A laugh bubbles up. "Did you just make a gardening metaphor for me?"

His grin dazzles me. "Maybe I'm learning a thing or two from you."

The joy fizzes through me like champagne bubbles. I can't remember the last time I felt this alive. This is real.

“And for the record, Ronan is an idiot to ignore you, although if you tell him I said that, he might have me killed.”

I flinch. It’s not like I don’t know the sort of business the Keans are in. But they’re not murderers. I decide it must be a joke, albeit not a good one. He’s just trying to make me feel good.

“For me to tell him, he’d have to notice me.”

Blaise pulls my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I notice you, Jenna. From the moment I laid eyes on you.”

I swallow, feeling overwhelmed by all this. Maybe I’m dreaming. If I am, I’m not ready to wake up.

After dinner, true to his word, he drives me home. Helping me from the car, he walks me to the front door of the cottage.

"I had an amazing time," I whisper, not ready for the night to end.

"So did I." Blaise steps closer, his green eyes intensely gazing into mine. My breath catches as his palm slides up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. His other hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip.

"Jenna…"

The space between us disappears. His lips capture mine, soft at first, then with growing intensity. My hands find his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He tastes like the tiramisu we shared for dessert, sweet and rich and perfect.

The world narrows to just this, the press of his body against mine, his fingers tangled in my hair, the small sound that escapes my throat when he deepens the kiss. All thoughts of Ronan vanish. For the first time in my life, I'm with someone who wants me right back.

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