Page 8 of Breaking Blaze

“Yeah, that was pretty funny,” she replied, her smile still in place. He blinked, trying to unscramble his brains.

“Uh…cough…yeah. Funny.” God, why did he sound like a fucking dumbass?

Sack the fuck up, Harris!

“What’s your name?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the front two belt loops of his worn jeans.

“Anna Cass—which you should know from the lovely rhyme they were chanting just a bit a go,” she sassed and his grin was back. “And you’re Blaze—as the shrieking bitch called you.”

He chuckled. “Well, Anna Cass, let’s get the hell out of here.”

From that day on, they were the oddest pair Westmoreland High had ever seen, and he’d been over the fucking moon proud to have Anna Cass and her plump, curvy ass, in his life.

Eight years had flown by. After he graduated, he’d enlisted in the Navy then spent four years at a duty station in Spain. He hadn’t seen combat but he’d taken his role as a sailor seriously. He’d made it his life. And when it came time to re-up, he’d decided that his life was really back in Jackson Key, Florida.

With Anna. Because God he’d missed his Anna Cass.

And now, here he was. On the outside of whatever the hell happened last night to make her shut the door in his face.

Gritting his teeth, he took the stairs down to the apartment building lobby, making sure to avoid contact with anyone lest he bump into Brigit again, and headed out to his truck. He’d Ubered to Happy Jack’s the night before knowing he was going to end up at some woman’s house, because when he went on the prowl, he always caught his prey. Since he’d Ubered, his truck was where he’d left it before heading out for an evening of drinking and mindless fucking.

Climbing into his truck, he headed to the job site on the other side of town, which was a twenty-minute drive. Jackson Key was a seaside down situated thirty miles south of Tampa. Home to a little over four thousand people, it saw more than its fair share of tourists in the spring and summer months. The site he was headed to was one of ten vacation rentals his company, Harris Construction LLC, was building.

As usual, Blaze stopped at Dunkin for a black coffee and a blueberry muffin and made it to the site just before his foreman, AJ Mendez, climbed out his truck.

“Mornin’,” Blaze called, lifting his chin in greeting.

AJ gave him a chin lift in return and lifted a coffee cup in salute, his deep brown eyes sharp even before he finished his first cup. “Yo.” He was a man of few words in the mornings, though.

“Ellison coming in to finish up the plumbing?” Blaze asked, hoping the fucks at Ellison Plumbing and HVAC were finished stalling for more billable hours and were ready to get the fuck to work.

AJ nodded. “Yeah, two of their guys are already here finishing up the piping in the wall behind the master bath.”

Blaze grunted before turning to head to the room in the house designated as the HQ until the finishing touches were complete.

Gulping the last of his now tepid coffee, Blaze pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing to God he’d taken some Advil that morning. Fucking hangovers. Not to mention the body aches from bending Brigit over nearly every surface in her living room. He was only twenty-six, but she’d been a fucking wild cat—a bendy one—and he’d been all about the flexible pussy until she’d practically twisted him in two with her thighs. Fuck. That had been both the most disturbing and hottest thing he’d experienced in months.

An image of Anna, standing in her doorway, her eyes blank, flashed through his mind, and his conjured high from acrobatic sex vanished in a blink.

Shit. What was he going to do about Anna? He didn’t know what had happened, but something had. Something that had shut her down so much she hadn’t even ripped into him about waking her up. It was like…Anna’s fire had dwindled.

His chest tightened and his breath caught.

He had to make it right, whatever went wrong.

He grabbed his phone from his back pocket and considered what to text. Tonight was her night off, which meant he could bring her dinner and vino, and he would let her talk him into watching whatever romance shit she was currently into.

Yeah. He’d get his Anna back. She was just tired, not that he blamed her. She worked hard, bartending at Happy Jack’s. She deserved a full night’s sleep.

So why do you keep dragging her out of bed to fix your fucking messes?

Hell if he knew why. He just knew that…he needed her to be there for him. He depended on her. He wouldn’t be where he was, doing what he was going, living the life he was living if he didn’t have her right down the hallway from him. Within reach. Where he could call her, see her, experience her bright smile, her blazing fire, and her warm heart. Over their eight years of friendship, she’d become the very core of him.

And it scared the shit out of him, because if anyone knew just how much she meant to him, he’d be vulnerable. He refused to be vulnerable again.

Sucking in a breath scented with fresh timber, wet paint, and sweaty men, Blaze typed out a message.

Blaze: Baby Girl, I hope you got some sleep. Sorry again for waking you up. Pizza and wine tonight to make up for it?

After hitting send, he dropped the phone to the table where the blueprints and other build documents were lying and closed his eyes.

Anna had to be okay.

But what would he do if she wasn’t?

Six hours later, Blaze stared down at the unanswered text, wondering if his chest would ever feel light again.

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