Page 9 of Wounded Dance
“He’s into you,” Paula whispered. “It must be pretty crazy, having a hot guy like that living in your own house.”
My gaze snapped back to Denham. He wasn’t trying to hide his interest. My skin tingled where he looked, along my legs, up my belly, and across my chest.
“Have you kissed him yet?” Paula asked.
I nudged her hard. “No way!” I said.
But as Denham kept staring, his gaze constantly dropping to my thighs, I started feeling like maybe I wanted to.
A tap at the bathroom door startles me.
“You okay in there?” Blitz asks.
I stand up quickly, pushing my wet hair back, and open the door.
Blitz waits outside, holding up two shirts.
“Which says, ‘I’ve brought the crazy hottie who disrupted my TV show home to Mama’?”
This makes me laugh. “Go with the blue,” I say, tapping the chambray one. “Purple makes it seem like you’ve been tamed by a woman already.”
“Ah, but I have!” Blitz says, leaning forward to press a light kiss on my mouth. “How are you doing?”
I open my mouth to say, “Fine,” but the words freeze. I’m not fine. I’m terrified.
Blitz sees it. He hangs the two shirts on a hook over the door and leads me by the elbow into the bedroom. He picks up a white robe on the way and wraps it around my shoulders.
“Come here,” he says, settling on a bench at the end of the bed. He pulls me down close to him, his arms around me. “Tell Dr. Blitz all about it.”
I laugh again. Blitz is good for serious situations. Of course he is. He entertained millions of viewers every week for two seasons.
My head rests on his shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again,” I say. “Do you think he’ll go after Gabriella?”
“He might,” Blitz says. “But judging by his broken-down truck, my lawyers probably charge more than his lawyers.”
I sigh. “But what’s the right thing to do?”
He squeezes me. “I guess it goes back to what happened back then. You want to talk about it?”
I close my eyes to the beautiful hotel room, the luxury around me, and the sight of Blitz, who has been completely understanding of every step of my withdrawal of my family.
“It’s complicated,” I say. “All the shame for all those years. Being hidden away like a monster. Having my baby taken away. All for nothing. He was just some kid. His aunt must have convinced my dad he was his.”
“Obviously your dad was playing around,” Blitz says. “It had to be a credible threat.”
That is true. For the first time, I have the moral high ground over my father.
“Denham was almost two years older than me. If you add in nine months for the pregnancy, Dad would have been with that woman early in his relationship with Mom. They weren’t married yet.”
“But she could do the math,” Blitz says. “And your dad must have been pretty anxious to make his own son keep quiet in order to live there.”
“Not-son,” I correct. What a relief it is to say that.
“I guess he did do right by you in tracking you down to tell you that,” Blitz says, kissing the top of my head. “I suppose I shouldn’t have knocked him unconscious.”
“You were defending my honor,” I say. “Again.” I remember his flattening a guy on our very first date, a man who insulted me outside a Mexican restaurant.
“Is this too much? You want to cancel the dinner tonight?” Blitz asks.
