Page 56 of Burn

Luckily, the cupcakes were already baked, ready for New Year’s Day. And while I’m considering this a mostly unlucky day because there have been no real emergencies to warrant a 911 call, I’ve done something right because I’m sitting in Trevor’s car with ten minutes until midnight with three boxes of cupcakes.

Three?

“What’s the third box for?” I ask when he pulls up to the front doors of the hotel.

Trevor winks. “Red velvet for my girl.”

Did I mention I love this man?

I do. Not in a way I’ll ever sleep with him, though I know for a fact that’s why he’s done this favor. His hand on my thigh is a pretty good indicator.

“You could repay me on a date . . .” He leaves the suggestion hanging in the air. Like I’m supposed to jump at the opportunity.

Did I mention here how old he is? He’s like fucking sixty years old.

Not happening. I draw a hard line at Forty-five. And that’s pushing it.

I swat it away with a laugh and wink at him, my hand on the door handle. “I think I love you too much to date you.”

I don’t wait for him to say anymore and I know eventually I’ll have to repay the favor. It just won’t be with him between my legs like he’s hoping for.

After nearly dropping the cupcakes, stashing my red velvet beauties in my office, I then take them up to the penthouse suite to where Shade’s security team is standing at the elevator. They smile knowing who I am and let me through to his room.

I usually don’t go into his room until after he leaves. This is mostly because I fear having a heart attack if I see the destruction happening before my eyes.

What I’m surprised by is none of that. It’s Shade sitting by himself, no shirt on, a pair of jeans and barefoot with a few dozen empty beers around him, bottle of tequila in hand and Bob Seger’s “Wait for Me” blaring. The suite is completely dark; the only lights are the ones reflecting off the windows from the city below.

“Hey, Mr. Sawyer, it’s Mila from hotel management. I have the cupcakes you wanted.”

His eyes don’t lift to mine. Instead, they stay focused on the window overlooking the city and the space needle lit up like a damn Christmas tree for the countdown to the new year.

It’s not until the song is over and I’m placing the cupcakes on the table in the dining room, Shade acknowledges my presence in the room. There are two minutes until midnight.

He stands, hands in his pockets and I admire his muscular physique. He’s one of those guys who carries very little body fat, and much like Judah, his body is a canvas for a tattoo artist.

The tight ridges in his arms flex, his body tensing and then he turns to me, his eyes so bloodshot they look like he’s been crying, but I’m too scared to ask. “Thanks.” His voice cracks with the words, and then he turns back to the window. “Willa will take care of you.”

That’s my cue to leave yet despite this, I’m worried about the guy. This is not the Shade Sawyer I remember from six months ago. You remember, the one with the monkey?

No, this is a broken man who’s had life spit back at him for some reason. I kind of want to hug him. I hesitate by the door, and when I don’t leave, he glances over his shoulder at me, like what the fuck are you still doing here.

“Sorry,” I apologize, stepping backward and then tripping over a fucking chair and land on my ass. In a dress.

In front of Shade.

Nicely done, Mila.

Welcome to the New Year.

“Are you okay?” he asks, jogging over to me, his bare feet slapping against the tile.

I wave him off and think maybe I broke my elbow, but then I can move it, and I’m sorely disappointed. “Should I call someone? Are you hurt?”

“Call the fire department.”

He blinks, his shocking blue eyes focused on me. “Really?”

I sit up and sigh. “No, not really. I’m fine.” And then I stare at him. He’s definitely been crying, and I want to punch anybody in the face who made him cry. He’s got a pretty face, a star face, you know, the ones that are perfectly tan and have the nice white teeth and not a single blemish on them.

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