Page 18 of Trusting Blake
“I’m on abulk, Savannah. How do you expect me to make gains like Blake if I don’t carb load?”
“You may want to give working out a shot, buddy,” says Blake as he closes all the truck windows and kills the engine.
Myles raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to dog-sit or not?”
“CAN EVERYONE PLEASE JUST GET OUT OF THE TRUCKBEFORE I DIE FROM BEING SUFFOCATED BETWEEN THE BENNETTS ANDA GOLDEN RETRIEVER?” Tori screeches.
Myles huffs and pushes open the truck door with his foot, and Tori shoves him the rest of the way out. Savannah climbs out the other side with Bailey, and for a brief moment after they close the doors behind them, Blake and I find privacy.
“They’re idiots, right?” he says, shaking his head as though he’s the wiser, more mature adult who’s responsible for them and is mortified by their behavior. But I think Blake forgets that he once sloppily rammed a quesadilla down his throat on purpose in front of me.
“Yeah,” I agree, then grin as I open my door. “In the best possible way.”
Outside the truck and in the blazing heat radiating from the concrete, Tori is already calling shotgun for the drive back home, and Blake tosses a leash and a bottle of water over to Myles.
“Give him some water and keep him on shaded grass, if you can,” Blake instructs. “And don’t let him greet any other dogs because hereallyhas a thing for the females right now.”
“Sounds like him and Myles are perfectly matched then,” chimes Savannah, much to the amusement of Tori, who cackles with laughter.
Myles ignores his sister and clips the leash to Bailey’s collar. “Call me when y’all are finished in there. Mila, good luck designing your undercover identity. Maybe try a Batman cape.”
Tori coughs. “Batwoman.”
“Thanks, Myles,” I say. “Bye, Bailey!”
Without even acknowledging his separation from Blake, Bailey turns and trots off happily with Myles.
“Well, let’s go shopping!” Savannah cheers, already on the move, making a beeline for the mall’s closest entrance. Tori chases after her, and I make to follow them both, but Blake reaches out for my wrist.
“Wait,” he says. “You might need this.”
Moving his body closer to mine, he whips off his baseball cap and places it on my head. His fingertips drop from the bill of the cap down to my cheekbones, his hands brushing against my sun-warmed skin, and he delicately tucks loose strands of my hair behind my ears.
“Shame to hide those cute freckles, but—” His dimples deepen as he smiles and adds, “Just in case.”
“Hurryup!” Tori yells back at us.
Blake and I break apart and take fast strides to catch up with her and Savannah. What I really want to do is grab hold of his arm and find a quiet corner where I can feel his lips against mine again. It seems like forever since I last kissed him. Before I know it, though, we arrive at the entrance and my chance is gone. Blake holds the door open for me, and into the heaving mall the four of us go.
It’s Saturday, and I forgot how chaotic a mall like this can be. Back home, Mom and I tend to shop down on Melrose Avenue or over in Malibu, and Dad prefers the grander style of Rodeo Drive, where stores will close to the public just so he can buy a shirt in peace. That’s when he actually decides to shop for himself rather than Ruben parading personal shoppers around the house with racks full of the latest fashion.
But an indoor outlet mall like this is fun in its own right. So many stores, so many people, so many scents coming from the food court. Music plays softly throughout, barely audible over the clashing of a thousand voices.
Tori spins around and looks me up and down with great intensity, one hand angled on her hip. “I think you need—”
“Earrings,” Savannah suggests.
Tori glares at her. “No,” she says, then focuses back on me. She taps her index finger against her cherry-painted lips. “I think you need a new hairstyle.”
My gaze drops to the ends of my hair. I’m a natural blond, though these caramel highlights are maintained with regular appointments with my hairstylist. I have never been brave enough to ask for anything different, except the one time I got a mere three inches trimmed off. I like the warm look and my current length. But a new style? That sounds like exactly what the new Mila Harding needs.
“You’re right,” I agree with a nod. “I do.”
“You do?” Blake repeats in surprise.
“Yes! Are there hair salons in this place?” I ask the girls, and I think how horrified Mom would be right now if she knew I was about to let a random hairstylist at an outlet mall touch my hair. Mom is very down-to-earth about most things, but hair and makeup are not one of them. Too bad I make my own rules now.
“This way!” Savannah says. She heads off, darting around other shoppers while her earrings swing wildly, until she abruptly stops and waves a pair of jazz hands at the storefront before her. “Ta-da!”
