Page 7 of Breaking Blaze

Blaze waved goodbye to the fuck-me-eyed woman who strode onto the elevator just before the doors closed. He scrubbed his hand down his face, noticing that he hadn’t even remembered to shave that morning…not that he was even having a morning. He hadn’t gone to sleep yet.

How could he?

He kept replaying the look on Anna’s face as she closed the door in his. Completely and utterly blank. Her usually bright autumn eyes warm with concern or fiery hot with emotion were empty. As though she’d turned off her emotions in that moment, leaving him out in the cold.

It had thrown him. She’d never looked at him like that before, and he simply didn’t know what to make of it. After eight years, he was used to the sleep deprived Anna getting snippy with him, but last night was something different. There was a chill to her as she spoke to him that he still couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like he’d done something to her, had he?

And what was up with that? Yeah, so he’d been a dick calling her and waking her up so he could get his spare key, but what else did she expect him to do? He was locked out of his apartment, she had a spare key, and he asked for it. It wasn’t like it was her first time getting a call from him in the middle of the night. And it wouldn’t be the last.

Thankful that…Brenda…Brandy—Brigit!—had been kind enough to bring him his keys bright and early—and to his great displeasure discovering his home address—he pulled his apartment door shut behind him and locked it. Peering down at the two sets of keys in his hands, he knew he had to get the other set he’d taken from Anna’s apartment back to her before he needed them again.

Face it, asshole, you’re going to need them sooner rather than later.

Sighing, Blaze looked toward Anna’s door, last night’s encounter still fresh in his mind.

He checked the time on his phone. 7:30. Anna would still be sleeping, which meant he had to leave her alone. He’d already pissed her off last night, the last thing he wanted to do was rile her up first thing in the morning. Especially when he couldn’t be there to reap his rewards.

Anna, when she was sweet and thoughtful and patient was a bright spot on anyone’s day. But Anna, when she was spitting mad, was a fierce ball of fire and profanity that made his soul burn right the fuck with her temper. He didn’t know what it was about the fiery Anna that got to him, he just knew that in those moments, when she was fire and he was engulfed in her, he felt more alive than he ever had before.

Nothing in the world compared. Not even the fucking.

Shit!

He didn’t have time to think about shit like that. Anna was Anna. She was his friend. They’d been together since his senior year in high school when he’d been the all-star offensive tackle. She’d been a junior, a quiet, shy, nerdy band girl who spent more time in band practice than she did with people who didn’t blow into a horn. When people asked how the jock and the nerd met, he could easily recount their first meeting. It was the emotions that recounting elicited that was more difficult to explain. Not that he would. Ever.

“Anna Cass with the big fat ass!” He’d been coming out of the locker room doors after an early evening football practice when those words met his ears. “Anna Cass with the hippo’s ass!” Came another jeer. He hadn’t been able to explain it then, but something like rage had overcome him. Those assholes were picking on someone.

Hurrying, he rounded the corner to the small courtyard outside the music building when he spotted them, a group of six or seven kids surrounding a girl who was standing stock still, her chin up, her eyes forward, her hands fisted at her sides. She was taking the nasty words and she was unflinching.

That was the first thing he noticed about Anna Cass. She was fucking tough as hell.

Dropping his gym bag, he moved toward the group, calling out, “What the fuck are you all doin’? Leave her alone!” They turned as if one big fat, bloated head, and noticed him, their eyes growing wide.

“Blaze!” one of the girls called out, her voice shrill. “Oh, my God, what are you doing here?”

He pinned the bitch with a glare. “What the fuck are you doing here? You guys think that talking shit about someone to their face makes you hot shit? That you’re better than they are because you can get into a group and spew hate?”

The group visibly flinched, murmuring among themselves.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Blaze growled, drawing himself up to his full height and pulling his shoulders back. He was a tall, built motherfucker, and he’d use it to his advantage against these spineless fucks.

Like the chickens they were, they clucked along, fleeing the large predator. Once they’d gone, Blaze had taken a good look at the girl who’d bravely stood her ground despite the mean ugliness they’d thrown at her.

Average height. Limp brown hair. A little extra weight almost completely hidden under loose, unflattering clothes. Pimples on her cheeks and forehead. Large green hazel eyes that stared at him, wide and owl-like, as if waiting for him to strike at her.

“Ease up, girl,” he drawled, smirking, knowing his killer dimples would soften her up a bit.

She lifted a thick brown eyebrow. There was the sass he was expecting.

He shrugged, his shoulder muscles aching from his weight training session.

“You want to get out of here before they wipe the shit from their asses and think they can come back?”

The corners of her lips twitched, a smile held back by uncertainty.

“Come on, you’re allowed to laugh at that,” he remarked, tilted his head to grin at her. “That was funny as hell.”

Finally, a smile formed on her face. And everything in the world tipped over. Her smile was…stunning. Brilliant, beautiful, it lit up her eyes, transforming her face into something he could only describe as…exquisite. He coughed to hide the catch in his breath.

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