Page 60 of Color of Love

Chapter 18

It had been nearly three weeks since Justine and Blake had slept together, or more accurately, two weeks, four days, ten hours and twenty-seven goddamn minutes. Not that Justine had been counting…like some lovesick fool. No, not lovesick, just lust sick. Because you absolutely do not love him. She was just obsessed with him, there, that was better, right? Ugh, this was so not good.

On the days in between their sessions, she felt like she was just existing. Nothing made her happy. She couldn’t focus on anything and constantly thought about their night together, and all the ways she could end up back in his arms. She tried so hard to remain professional whenever she saw him. She kept her walls in place, not touching him, not looking at him too long and always making sure her smile was professional and not betraying all the thoughts flitting through her mind of things she wanted to do to his naked body.

Who knew what a filthy mind she had? She didn’t even think about sex this much when she hadn’t had it. Obviously she blamed Blake. He’d shown her how incredible it could be. But she’d spent so long fantasizing about him that she hadn’t done anything about trying to find an actual boyfriend. She hadn’t looked at her dating apps. She deleted any messages she got from previous dates who wanted to take her out again, and she hadn’t gone back to Ladies’ Night at the bar. She was behind on her plan, and she knew she needed to get back out there but for some reason, she just wasn’t interested. And that reason was about to walk into her office.

For a smart person, she sure was stupid. She’d started to care for him more than she had anticipated. A feeling she couldn’t name settled in the pit of her stomach and that was why she needed to push herself to go out and meet other men. She needed to take her mind off the client that she couldn’t have. This thing wasn’t serious, it was just an infatuation with her first lover which any woman would have.

She was distracted from her thoughts by Hilda’s girlish giggle. Justine frowned. What the fu-she’d never heard Hilda make that sound before. Then Blake’s large body filled the doorway and Justine couldn’t breathe.

“You ought to watch that one, Justine. She may act all sweet and innocent, but I know a troublemaker when I see one,” Blake teased.

Justine peered behind him to see Hilda tittering away and waving a hand to shush him. Justine glanced back at Blake and saw him smile, the joy in his expression nothing like the perma-frown that had been there when he first stepped into her office all those weeks ago. He seemed happier, lighter, and more engaged with people. Was the town working its way under his skin? She hoped so for, uh, the town’s sake, yeah, the town, that was what mattered here.

Blake waved at Hilda and shut the door. Justine waited for him to get settled on the couch, noting that his eyes no longer darted around the room, looking for threats and planning escape routes. Progress! She sat down opposite, giving him her most professional smile. When he took in her smile, a muscle ticked under his eye, his lips pursing in annoyance.

“How have you been, Blake?” she asked, crossing her legs, the slit on her black dress spreading, baring slightly more thigh than was probably appropriate. She hoped he wouldn’t notice but he saw everything. His eyes dropped and he clenched his jaw before swiftly averting his gaze. She tried to brush off the hurt that floated through her at his lack of interest, reminding herself she was meant to be behaving professionally.

“Good. I don’t know, fine, I guess?” His words were a question, not an answer. He still had some work to do on opening up and talking about his feelings, but his progress so far was outstanding.

“Just fine?”

He nodded.

“Have you had any attacks this past week?” she asked.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. A soft smile split her face at the news, a real smile this time, her professional one forgotten.

“Blake, that’s wonderful!” she gushed.

His gaze snapped to hers and lingered on her mouth before his lips lifted in a smile that matched hers. Two smiles in one session, dios mio, who is this stranger?

“Any anxiety?”

His smile disappeared. “A little.”

“Anything in particular that caused it?” she probed.

He looked away and out the window. When he didn’t answer, she prompted him. He got up and started pacing behind the couch, tangling his hand roughly through his hair. Hair she longed to do the same to, knowing how soft it felt under her fingertips. She blinked and forced her attention back to the situation.

“I had another nightmare about the incident. I woke up sweating and shaking. I was sick again and it took a long time to snap out of it,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“A nightmare about the woman who committed suicide?” she asked, and he nodded sharply. Her eyes narrowed at him. He kept circling back to this incident, yes it would have been extremely traumatic but there was something else here and she was ready to start pushing his buttons to get the answers they both needed.

“Why does it bother you so much?” Justine asked.

“Excuse me?” His mouth gaped open in shock. “Did you seriously just ask me why someone committing suicide in front of me bothers me so much?” His words held a steely edge and a nervous twitch traveled up her spine at his anger. She had to work to hold the tension, you’re not his girlfriend, you’re his psychologist. His mental wellbeing is what you need to work with, not worry about whether he’s mad at you or not.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

He continued to stare at her in shock. “Because a woman died, Justine,” he gritted out and began pacing again.

She sighed internally. He’s going to make this difficult on himself, isn’t he? “But why does it bother you so much?”

“Are you for real right now?” he shouted, his anger rising but she wouldn’t back down from it.

She got up and went over to him, standing to the side to allow him to continue pacing. “Why does she bother you, Blake? What is it about her?” Justine pushed, her tone hardening. “You’ve seen plenty of people die. In battle, in the line of duty, what makes her stand out to you against all the rest?”

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