Page 23 of When Fate Breaks
When Blake doesn’t respond to my joke, I continue. “At the hardware store.”
Blake’s brows raise. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a long story.”
“Well, luckily, I’ll be here for awhile.”
Yeah, luckily.
“I’d love to hear all about it,” Blake says. “But, first, you got any more pizza in there?”
I let out a silent sigh of relief. That was definitely not a conversation I was ready to have tonight. Not with Blake. “No, actually, the pizza place was only having a three piece special tonight.”
Blake shakes his head, his tongue pushing into the side of his cheek to stifle a smile from forming. “Shut up.”
I walk past Blake, out of the greenhouse and towards the back door. “I’m sorry, but it’s true,” I joke. “There’s plenty of grass out here if you’re in the mood for a second course, though.”
“Ha-ha,” Blake says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t test me, Jacks. I’m starving. And it’s been a long day.”
I won't argue with that.
Blake follows me in the backdoor of the house. I make sure to take the least scenic route by taking a straight shot down the main hallway to the kitchen; I don’t have the energy to give a tour of this place right now when I still barely know my own way around.
When we enter the kitchen, I motion for Blake to take a seat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. “I’ll have your order right out to you, Mr. Di Fazio,” I say with a dramatic bow in an accent I couldn’t even begin to identify before turning to the pizza boxes on the counter and pulling out two more pieces for each of us.
I drop Blake’s second helping onto his outstretched plate. “Thank you, m’lady,” he says, attempting my same ridiculous accent.
Blake’s already scarfed down his first slice before I reach for mine; the second I pick mine up, however, I immediately drop it back onto the plate, hearing the front door open. Blake’s gaze meets mine and I see him starting to stand from his chair.
“I got it– I–Be right back,” I sputter, pushing away from the counter. The front door is practically visible from the kitchen, only being separated by the short hallway and half-wall designating the foyer, but I just need a moment somewhat alone with Remy before introductions are made. A moment to decompress.
I step out into the entryway, finding Remy removing his jacket and loosening his tie. I have a feeling by the vacant look in his downcast gaze and the unusually ruffled state of his sandy blonde hair that his meeting didn’t go too well.
“Hey, babe,” I say, approaching him. He looks up, noticing me for the first time. “How’d it go–”
Remy pulls me into his arms, kissing me hard. He holds me there for a long moment, one hand twisted into my hair and the other around my waist. When he finally relents, it takes a moment for me to catch my breath.
“That bad?” I breathe.
“We’ll be back. You know I don’t take no for an answer,” Remy says, his brows raised and lips pulled into a smug smile.
“Oh, trust me. I know,” I confirm, rolling my eyes sarcastically.
“But, in the meantime,” Remy says, planting a quick kiss on my forehead before moving past me, “let’s meet this little friend of yours–Oh.”
Remy’s voice cuts off as he rounds the corner, coming nearly face to face with Blake standing just inside the kitchen. My face flushes at the thought of him having just spied on us.
Dammit, Blake. I told you I had it.
I grit my teeth together, pushing my hair out of my face as I walk into the kitchen to stand by Remy.
Why do I even care?
Him and Blake are standing only feet apart. And it feels so very surreal. And weird.
They both seem to size each other up for a moment, Blake’s hands going into his pockets and Remy’s arms crossing. I have to turn my face away briefly to keep from either snorting or rolling my eyes.
Men.
