Page 130 of The Puck Stops Here

‘It’s all in your eyes, Blake. Your eyes and your smile, when you choose to give it.’

He’d said the same to her once, a long time ago, and she’d felt every word. She only hoped he felt it in return.

She paused before him, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip as she struggled to breathe this close to him. She wanted to kiss him. Kiss him until all she saw looking back at her was confidence, desire, the same need that burned through her.

‘Fuck, Twinkle Toes, what I wouldn’t give to know what’s going through your head right now.’

What she wouldn’t give to show him…

‘Come on, you two!’ Aiden swept in, grabbed the mugs from Blake’s immobile hands, and swept back out again. ‘Mom’s pie is getting cold!’

Blake gave a tight laugh while Astrid’s cheeks blazed. She’d been so close to jumping him. Right here in his mother’s kitchen. And Aiden would have born witness to the lot.

‘We’d best go.’ She hurried to leave, her only thought to escape the danger zone, but her sweater caught on the door handle, throwing her back. She came up against his body hard, the jug lurching with her. Hot custard sloshed over the top, down her hand, her front –ouch!She yelped. He yelped. The jug fell.

With a mortifying crack it hit the ground, and her hands soared to her mouth, catching the plunger in the cafetière Blake held and sending it skidding across the floor, hot coffee splashing over his tee.

‘Shit, Twinkle Toes!’ he hissed, pulling the fabric away from his chest.

‘I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.’ She flapped at his top, her only thought to ease the heat against his skin even as her own skin tingled and protested its scorching vanilla assault.

‘It’s okay,’ he said over her, placing the cafetière down so that he could strip his tee. ‘Areyouokay?’

He was eyeing her sweater, but she only had eyes for his naked chest. His naked chest and oh my God, the mess, the custard, his mum’s jug!

‘Oh my goodness!’ Cynthia appeared with Aiden close behind. ‘What on earth happened?’

‘I did. I’m so sorry, it was an accident. I’ll clean it up straight away. I’m so sorry about your jug, I hope it wasn’t sentimental.’ She was rambling but she couldn’t stop. ‘I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll get?—’

‘Hush hush!’ Cynthia clutched her hand to silence her. ‘No, you won’t. You get yourself upstairs and out of those clothes. Blake will find you something to wear while Aiden gets this cleaned up, and I’ll make us some more custard.’

‘I really am so sorry.’

‘Come on, Twinkle Toes.’ Blake took her hand, dragging her away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the broken china and the coffee-splattered gloop. She was always worse when she was nervous, stressed, or flustered. And she’d been all of those things.

‘I can’t believe I did that.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Mom’s right, we need to get you out of those clothes…’

‘And make sure you bathe those burns, Blake!’ his mother called after them. ‘Get some cream on them too.’

He gave Astrid a smile, his eye roll gently teasing. ‘On it, Mum.’

He led her into a bedroom on the first floor, drew the curtains and turned on the bedside lamp, all semi-naked action while she was struggling to keep her mouth shut, her thoughts clean, and her mortified heart steady. Being around fully clothed Blake was hard enough. But in a bedroom, mostly naked? He was temptation personified.

And you’d do well to quit looking!

She lowered her lashes as he disappeared into the en suite. She could hear him going through cupboards, her ears refusing to tune him out as she peeled off her damp layers and took in the room around her.

It was masculine but cosy. Everything in a varying shade of grey. From the carpet to the curtains, to the walls and the painted furniture.

Was this a room the twins used when they stayed here? Or was this Blake’s alone? The king-size bed already made up for when he might stay, the grey throw across the bottom a welcoming touch, the added cushions too.

‘There’s a dressing gown on the…’

He froze on the threshold, his eyes dipping over her semi-naked state, sweater and T-shirt clutched in her hands, custard-splashed socks discarded on the floor. His cheeks slashed red. His throat bobbed.

‘I was going to say feel free to use the gown while I dig something out for you.’

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