A Little Too Hot (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

W
HEN
B
LAKE COMES
up in the morning, showered and dressed after his workout, I’m at the counter eating a banana. His gaze trails down the opening of my robe as he makes his way to the elevator. “I have to go into the office and I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Cooper is coming in.”

I slip off my stool. “Why are you going in? Is it about Jonathan?”

He looks at me for several seconds, as if he’s struggling with what to say.

My heart chokes up my throat and a flash of cold envelops me. “Oh God.”

His eyes widen and he moves quickly across the room toward me. “No! No, Sam. It’s . . . I wasn’t going to say anything, because everything’s sketchy right now, but Jonathan’s girlfriend heard from him last night.”

Hope springs up inside me. “Ginger?”

He nods, laying a hand on my arm. “He didn’t say much, so we’re not sure where he is or if he’s in danger, but . . .” His brow creases. “He’s alive, Sam.”

I’m in his arms before I even realize I’ve moved. Relieved tears streak my cheeks and soak into his blue button-down. “Jesus,” I whisper.

His hands rub over my back, as if there’s nothing remotely awkward about me crying into his shoulder. “It’s good news. We can use what information we got from the call to track him down. It’s going to be okay.”

When my tears slow, I lift my face off his shoulder and look up at him. “Thank you.”

His glacial gaze melts, the ice in his eyes swirling into warm pools. “I promised you I’d find him, and I will.”

His hand is still in my hair, and I feel his fingers tighten as we stand here, so close I can see the silver flecks swirling in the ice blue of his eyes. He pulls me closer with his hand on my back, obliterating the fraction of space between us. Before I even realize what’s happening, my bare feet leave the floor and I’m on the counter with Blake pressed between my open knees. I wrap my legs around him, digging my heels into his back and pulling him closer.

He tips his forehead into mine and closes his eyes, then blows out a shaky breath. His biceps strain the fabric of his shirt under my hands, and his whole body is taut as he fights for control.

I’m so wrapped up in Blake that I barely register the hum of the elevator, but the next second he lowers me to the floor and backs away, just as the door glides open.

Cooper steps into the room and his eyes flash between us. I pull my robe closed as Blake scoops his messenger bag from the sofa, looping it over his shoulder.

“I’ll be a few hours,” he says to Cooper.

Cooper’s eyes catch on the wet spot on Blake’s shirt. “You gonna change?”

Blake glances down at his shirt, and there’s a hint of chagrin in his expression as his eyes flick to me. “Oh . . . yeah. I’ll be right back.” He lowers his bag to the floor and turns for the stairs.

Cooper moves deeper into the room, picking up the remote for the massive-screen TV on his way to the sofa. He clicks past cooking shows, morning shows, and news without saying a word until he finds a channel showing a WWF match. He settles deeper into the cushions, resting his arms on the back of the sofa.

Blake crests the top stair in a fresh white shirt and looks between us, where I’m still standing near the counter, shaking and unsure what’s supposed to happen. “I’ll touch base when I know anything,” he tells me, hiking his bag back onto his shoulder. He pushes the elevator button and gives me a meaningful glance as he disappears into it.

Cooper’s still watching the TV, making no indication he even knows Blake is gone. He doesn’t even look at me.

“I’m going to . . . um . . . shower, I guess.”

All I get is a flick of his eyes and a single tight nod.

Once I’m showered, I think about just hanging in my room for the day, but Cooper might hear something about Jonathan. I dress and make my way out to the living room.

The pantry door is open and I hear Cooper rooting around in there. He comes out empty-handed with a scowl fixed to his face. “What’s to eat around here?”

“Um . . . well . . .” I think about the list of things I asked Blake to buy for me. “Yogurt and fruit,” I say, waving at the basket with bananas and tangerines. “And there’s Doritos,” I add when his scowl deepens at my suggestions. “In the drawer next to the fridge.”

“Now we’re talking.” He fishes them out of the drawer and drops into the armchair, his eyes migrating back to the wrestling match as he pulls the clip off the end of the bag and opens it. “Did our man Montgomery ever tell you he wanted to be an astronaut?”

I bark out a laugh at the image of a five-year-old Blake with a fishbowl over his head.

Cooper’s eyes flick from the TV to me, dead serious.

“You mean, when he was a kid, right?” I ask, the smile fading from my face.

He shakes his head slowly. “I mean for real.”

I feel my eyes widen as I settle onto the sofa. “For real?”

“For real,” he confirms with a slow nod. “He was in Astronaut Candidate training at the Johnson Space Center when his father was shot. Blake is brilliant. He graduated a year early, at the top of his chemical engineering class at UCLA, and got a doctorate in polymer science.” His gaze cuts to me, sharp and hard. “But he doesn’t always
think
, if you know what I mean.”

I feel a little numb, and wish the sofa would open up and swallow me whole. “How do you know all this?”

“His father was my partner.”

My head spins. “I don’t . . . I’m—” ’

“I like you, Jezebel. Really. But don’t mess with Blake.” The warning in his voice is impossible to miss, and as he turns back to the TV, even though there’s so much more I want to ask, I don’t dare.

Cooper and I don’t talk much for the rest of the day, and after what he said, I’m too self-conscious to change into my suit and work my shoulder in the pool, so I sit and read. It’s nearly dinner and I’ve just finished my book when Blake returns.

I stand from the sofa as he steps out of the elevator with a pizza box. “Jonathan?”

A smile tugs at his mouth. “We’ve got him. He’s fine, Sam.”

I drop into the sofa feeling suddenly dizzy and cover my face with my hands. “Thank God,” I breathe.

Cooper hauls himself out of the chair. “Got to get home to the missus. It’s our anniversary.” He glances at the empty bag of Doritos on the coffee table and pats a hand on his stomach. “Think she’s got something special planned for dinner.”

Blake sets the pizza on the counter and gives him a clap on the back. “Congrats, man. What is it? Your hundredth?”

“How’d you get so goddamn funny, you little shit?” He punches the elevator call button and steps inside, giving me a pointed look as the elevator door closes.

“I don’t think he likes me,” I say, watching after him.

Blake turns from the fridge. “Don’t take it personally. Cooper doesn’t like anybody.”

“Well, I think he likes me less.” I slip onto a stool. “Tell me about Jonathan. He’s okay? Where did you find him?”

“We didn’t,” he says, his eyebrows pulling together. “He just showed up on his doorstep. The dumb shit won’t tell us where he’s been.”

“But he’s okay?”

He grabs salad stuff from the fridge and tosses it on the counter “He seems to be fine.”

“Can I talk to him? He might tell me what’s up.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” he says, dumping lettuce from a bag into a salad bowl. Despite his obvious irritation at Jonathan, his mood seems lighter. He confirms this change in demeanor when the hint of a smile plays over his mouth. “So, how bad do you really want to get out of here?”

I give him my most exasperated stare.

He starts dicing a tomato on the cutting board. “Pack your stuff. You’ve earned yourself a field trip.”

My jaw nearly hits the counter. “For serious?”

He flicks me a glance out from under his lashes. “For serious.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Where?”

He fights a smile but loses. It spreads slowly across his face, lighting the whole thing up. “It’s a surprise.”

W
E’RE BACKING OUT
of the garage in the Escalade at 7:00
A.M.
the next morning and I feel jet-lagged. It’s been a while since I’ve been up this early. My plan is to sleep on the ride, but I’m pretty sure the country music pumping out of the deluxe surround-sound speakers system is going to keep that plan from becoming a reality.

I reach up and click the stereo off, but Blake touches a button on his steering wheel and it’s louder than it was a second ago.

“You suck,” I tell him, rubbing my eyes.

He stops the car and throws it in drive, pulling us back into the garage, then turns off the engine and starts to climb out.

“Wait!” I say when I get the message.

He turns and arches an eyebrow at me.

I drop my head back onto the headrest and blow out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. You can listen to your stupid music.”

He steps out of the car and heads for the elevator.

“Stop!” I say, flinging my door open. “I said you could listen!”

He looks over his shoulder at me as he turns the key in the elevator panel. “To my ‘stupid’ music.”

“Oh!” I say, throwing my hands in the air and storming over to him. “So I have to
like
it? This is blackmail.”

He pulls the key and turns slowly back to me. “Have you ever even listened to country?”

“Hell, no!”

“Tim McGraw? Blake Shelton? Montgomery Gentry?”

I scrunch my face at him. “Why do they all have your name?”

He rolls his eyes and starts to punch in his elevator code.

“Fine!” I say, tugging him back to the Escalade by the arm. “I’ll listen and try to like something! I’ll do
anything
to get out of this house.”

He glances to my hand on his arm, and for some reason—desperation, maybe—I can’t let go. His eyes lift to mine and burn into them as he scrutinizes me. “Anything?”

A shudder ripples through me with his sudden shift in direction. “Within reason.”

His gaze caresses my face and settles on my mouth as he presses closer. “Define ‘reason.’ ”

I lick my lips automatically as my breathing gets a little erratic, and my grip on his arm tightens. Since he came home yesterday and announced our “field trip” he’s been more playful, like the weight of the world isn’t pressing down on him anymore, and I wonder what that means for us.

When I shift under his gaze, my fingers glide up his arm to his bicep, which is like steel under my hand. His fingertips whisper down my side, coming to rest on my waist, and he lets out something that could be a sigh. But the next second he breaks his gaze and takes my hand. “C’mon. We’re going be late.”

He tows me to the car and loads me back in. Once he’s situated in the driver’s seat, he opens the console between our seats and pulls out a CD, sliding it into the slot in the dash. The song that pours from the speakers has a decent beat, a little bluesy, and the man’s voice is gritty and true, without any of that annoying country warble. And he’s not singing about pickup trucks and pretty girls.

It doesn’t suck.

“This is country?” I ask.

A slow almost-smile creeps across his face as he backs out of the garage, and that’s all the answer I get.

Cooper’s black Charger follows us as we wind out of the Berkeley Hills toward Oakland, and I tip my head back and listen to the music.

“Where are we going?” I ask for the hundredth time.

“It’s a surprise,” he answers for the hundredth time. I can tell he’s enjoying this game, and it makes me smile despite myself.

When Cooper pulls in behind us at an IHOP parking lot near the highway, my heart sinks. I mean, just being out of the house is great, but I was hoping Blake had thought of something a little more exciting than blueberry pancakes.

I reach for my door handle, but before I can tug it open, Blake lays a hand on my knee. “Hold up.”

The electronic ring of a phone comes through the speakers, and when I turn, I see Cooper is out of his car.

Blake pushes the button on the steering wheel. “We clear?” he asks.

“Clear,” Cooper confirms.

Blake slides out of the Escalade and comes around to my side, opening my door and ushering me out. He gives Cooper a nod, then looks around warily, laying a hand on the small of my back and guiding me quickly toward the building. We step through the door and my legs falter. Sitting in a booth up front are three of the most beautiful faces I’ve ever seen.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“
O
H MY
G
OD!”
I squeal, leaping into Jonathan’s outstretched arms. “You’re okay.” Tears sting my eyes as Ginger and Izzy circle us in a group hug.

“ ’Course,” Jonathan says, crushing me in his embrace. “Indestructible, remember?” he says low in my ear.

I pull back and smack him. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I was just out partying with the guys,” he says with a grin. “No big thing.”

I glance at Blake, who’s standing back watching the exchange. He gives me a tight nod.

Jonathan clamps his arms around me and starts to pick me up, but flinches and sets me down, holding his side. “Yeah . . . don’t quite have those Guitar Hero superpowers back yet.”

I press my hand over his. “You’re okay?”

“The chicks dig battle scars,” he says with a grin. “Told you, Red,” he adds, lifting a finger to the scar on my cheek, “they’re super hot.”

“He’s right,” Ginger says, tugging him to her. She loops her arms around his neck and plants one on him. When their tongues start wrestling, I look away.

Izzy grasps my shoulders and turns me to face her. “Look at you, girlfriend! You’re almost as black as me.”

“Swimming,” I tell her, hugging her tight. “You’re all right?”

“Unemployed, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“Phones,” Blake says, holding out his hand to Izzy. She pulls hers from her pocket and gives it to him.

“Seriously?” Ginger whines when he gets to her.

“There’s no cell service where we’re going anyway,” Blake tells her with a wiggle of his fingers.

She rolls her lip in disgust as she hands him her phone. “Where is that? The Stone Age?”

Jonathan flips his phone at Blake, and Blake plucks it out of the air. “Grab your things. Time to saddle up.”

I look at him and back at my friends. “What’s going on?”

“Road trip!” Jonathan says. He grabs his guitar case off the floor and slings his backpack over his shoulder. Ginger wraps an arm around his waist, and Izzy comes up to my side, wrapping her arm around mine. Blake steps to the side as we all file out the door.

We pile into the SUV, Jonathan up front, and me sandwiched between the girls in back. Once everyone else is in, Blake goes to the Charger and hands the cell phones off to Cooper. They talk for a minute, then Blake climbs into the Escalade. He spares us the country music as he navigates us onto the highway, and we head south.

“Where are we going?” Jonathan asks, and I smile when Blake says, “It’s a surprise.”

I turn to Izzy. “How’s everyone else from Benny’s?”

“Pete’s good,” Izzy answers. “Got a gig at a new club in the Tenderloin. Jen got a job at Denny’s, and Steph moved back in with her parents up north. I haven’t seen anyone else.”

Ginger goes on and on about how shutting down flesh markets like Benny’s is another step toward true equality for women, and the girls catch me up on everything as Blake drives. I pretend not to notice his frequent glances in the rearview at me.

“Did he tell you where we’re going?” I ask Izzy after about an hour on the road, as the Sierras start to loom to our left.

She shakes her head.

Ginger hands Jonathan’s guitar over the seat to him, and he plays us the song he’s writing for her and a few others before segueing into the pizza topping song. Everyone but Blake sings along as the highway rolls by.

An hour later we’re all giggling and punchy from the long ride, but no one’s complaining. It’s just so great to be together again. Our laughing is interrupted by the ring of the phone from the speakers.

Blake hits a button on the steering wheel. “Yeah, Coop?”

“You’re clear,” Cooper says out of the speakers. “I’m heading back.”

“Ten-four,” Blake says, then disconnects.

I turn to see the black Charger pull off the exit we’re just passing.

As we start to climb into the mountains, our attention turns to the passing scenery: trees and cliffs and green, and a forever view back down into the valley. We reach the top of the mountain and inch through a national park checkpoint behind a line of traffic. Blake pays the fee and collects a map.

“Kings Canyon?” Jonathan asks, taking it from his hand and holding it up for us to see.

I snatch it from his fingers. “How long are we staying here?”

“Just overnight.” Blake glances in the rearview at me as he answers, that almost-smile playing over his lips. “Thought you’d earned a night out.”

Dragonflies buzz in my belly at the look he gives me, and I turn my attention back to the beauty outside the window to help distract me from the untouchable beauty right in front of me.

After a few minutes Blake turns off the main road onto a smaller side road that cuts through the forest. A little way up, the woods open out into a cluster of cabins. As we drive deeper, I realize it’s a whole little village.

We bump over poorly maintained roads and Blake finally pulls into a dirt driveway in front of a decrepit looking two-story cabin. Thick pine branches overhang a steeply pitched tin roof, and some of the wooden shingles around the shuttered windows are falling off. A huge stone chimney up the front looks like the only thing holding the rickety structure up.

“What is this place?” Izzy asks.

“My family’s cabin,” Blake answers, sliding out of his seat. “I spent most of my summers here when I was a kid.”

I shoot him a glance. “I thought you were from Texas.”

“I am. But I spent time here with my grandparents every summer.”

“Looks sort of creepy,” Izzy says. “Like it’s haunted.”

Blake’s face is all nostalgia as he looks it over. “No one else comes up here anymore . . .” He glances at me. “. . . which is why I figured it would be safe.”

He lifts the tailgate and hands me my duffel bag. As everyone grabs their bags from the back, I notice sleeping bags, a few grocery bags, and an ice chest buried back there. We climb a flight of stairs to the front door, and Blake unlocks it. I step through into an open room, a dark leather sofa along the back wall and two leather and wood rockers in front of the massive stone fireplace that dominates the entire room. There’s an open archway to the right, where a wooden picnic table sits near a door beyond, which obviously leads to the kitchen. Up the middle of the room is a ladder, which goes to a loft upstairs. The curtains are drawn, so it’s dim, but there’s a thin coating of dust on everything, and cobwebs in most of the corners.

Blake sets his bag on a chair and pulls back the curtain on the window up front. He opens the window, pushes back the shutters, and the room is flooded with bright sunlight.

“You’re sure this place isn’t haunted?” Izzy says, eyeing her surroundings warily.

Blake shrugs. “No guarantees.”

After lunch we hike out on some trails that wind past rivers and meadows full of wild flowers, to a fire lookout, where we can see forever. All there is for miles is mountains, trees, and lakes. It’s so quiet.

As we meander back along the trails toward the cabin, I hook my elbow through Jonathan’s and slow our pace a little, letting the others get ahead of us.

“So, where is this safe house you’re at?” he asks, kicking a rock in our path.

“It’s—” I glance at Blake, on the trail up ahead. “I’m not supposed to say.”

He tugs me closer. “But they’re taking good care of my best girl, right?”

“Yeah.” I slow us even more. “So where were you, Jonathan? You had everyone totally flipping out.”

His eyes don’t leave the path. “I went looking for Marcus.”

“And . . . ?”

“He wanted to know what you were going to tell the narcs. I told him you didn’t know anything.”

I fix him in a hard gaze. “You were missing for, like, four days, Jonathan.”

He shrugs. “We had a few beers.”

He won’t look at me as he says it, which makes something in my gut tighten uncomfortably. “What’s going on?”

His eyes go all wide and innocent as he turns to me. “I got drunk, passed out, woke up, got drunker, passed out—”

“Stop!” I say, shoving him away. “You have no idea how scared everyone was. We thought Ben might have killed you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ben’s cool with everything, Red.”

I feel my eyes widen. “He had someone shoot at us, Jonathan! That’s pretty goddamn far from ‘cool’ in my book.”

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t him.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course it was him!”

He shakes his head again. “Marcus said no.”

“Then who?”

“No fucking clue,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve had boyfriends of at least twenty chicks threaten to kill me when they’ve caught me with their women. Could have been any one of them.”

“Be serious. That was
not
a jealous boyfriend.” I stumble on a tree root because I’m not watching the path, and Jonathan catches me.

“Think about it, Red,” he says, steadying me on my feet. “
I’m
the one that got shot, not you. Do you really think Ben’s guys would have shitty aim?”

I chew my lip as I think about that, and when I look ahead, I see Blake fire me a glance over his shoulder. Could he be wrong about all of it? Maybe Ben’s not after me at all. “I don’t know, Jonathan. I’m not buying the jealous boyfriend thing.”

He shrugs again.

When we stumble back to the cabin, Blake starts a fire in the outdoor fire ring near the driveway, then sets a grate over it. It’s not too long later that he’s cooking and we all have a beer in our hands. My job is to flip the corn while he grills burgers and dogs.

The sun drops behind the tall pines as we eat, and as we’re finishing, it disappears altogether, leaving us in the flickering glow of the campfire. We’re well into our third or fourth beers when Jonathan ducks into the cabin and comes out with his guitar. We talk and joke, and Jonathan plays, and I’m cracking up at something stupid he said when I realize this is the most I’ve let down since I got thrown out of my parents’ house over two months ago. My cheeks ache and I’ve given myself the hiccups from laughing so hard.

It’s only when I go to the ice chest near the stairs for another beer that I realize Blake has retreated to the Escalade, a good thirty feet away. He’s sitting on the hood, leaning back against the windshield, watching us. The faint hum of country music makes it to my ears over the cacophony of my friends, and I can’t help but smile.

He tips his head at me and I wave back, then head to the campfire and sit on a blanket on the ground.

Ginger is blowing the flames off her torched marshmallow as Jonathan wrestles the stick out of her hand. “You’re doing that totally wrong,” he says. “It’s supposed to be golden brown.”

“Not in my family,” she slurs, grabbing the stick back and nearly falling off the stump she’s sitting on in her inebriated state. “This is how we do it.”

Jonathan drops onto my blanket as Ginger sticks her marshmallow back into the flames. He picks up his guitar and starts plucking out the melody of his pizza topping song, making up new lyrics involving the carcinogens in burnt marshmallows.

We laugh and give each other shit, and after a few more beers, when Jonathan and Ginger start giving the rest of us a lesson in sex ed, we tell them to get a room and send them off to bed.

Izzy’s eyes shift to Blake, who’s still on the hood of his car, then back to me. She wraps her arms around me and props her chin on my shoulder. “So, what’s the real deal with you and Secret Agent Man?”

I shrug. “He says Ben was mixed up in a lot of bad stuff.”

“But none of that really has to do with what’s going on
between
you,” she says, nudging her shoulder into mine. “He’s been sitting on that car for the past two hours, staring at you.”

“Because that’s his
job
, Izzy.”

She shakes her head slowly. “There’s nothing ‘business’ about the look he’s giving you, girlfriend.”

As if he knows we’re talking about him, he kicks off the car and saunters over to the fire ring. He stomps at the embers with the heel of his boot. “You going to be up for a while? I’ll put some more wood on.”

Izzy stands and stretches. “Jonathan and Ginger are probably passed out by now. I think I’ll crash too.” She flashes me a secret smile as she heads to the stairs.

Blake settles onto a rock at the edge of the circle and pokes at the embers with a stick. He’s more causal than usual today, in jeans and a black T-shirt with an open flannel shirt over the top. He looks very woodsy. And it’s totally hot.

“What did Jonathan say?” he asks.

I hook my elbows around my knees and draw them closer. “He said he was just getting drunk with Marcus.”

“For four days,” he says, flicking me a skeptical look.

I nod.

He pokes at the fire again, then gets up and tosses another log on. “And you believe him?”

“I don’t know.” I want to. Jonathan’s never given me a reason not to trust him. “He thinks that guy who ran us off the road might have been a jealous boyfriend.”

Blake’s jaw tightens as gives me a doubtful tip of his head, like maybe I’m too naive to live. “He ran you off the road and shot at your
after
you told Jonathan you were testifying against Arroyo.”

I shake my head. “Think about it. Jonathan’s the one who got shot, not me. Do you really think Ben’s guys would have missed me?” I hear the defensiveness in my tone and stuff it down. I get that Blake is just trying to protect me. I need to cut him some slack.

He kicks at the log with the heel of his boot and it bursts into flames. “It was dark and you were a moving target. It’s an easy miss, even for a decent marksman.”

The golden firelight flickers off his features, softening some lines and making others sharper. He’s breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and my fingers dig into the blanket automatically, as if I need to tether myself to the ground or I’ll launch right into him. To keep from staring . . . and probably drooling, I lie back on my blanket and look up at the stars.

For the first few years after Mom married Greg, before the boys were born, he used to take us camping in Yosemite Meadows. That’s when I realized the sky is a flickering blanket of stars when you’re away from the city lights. Tonight, it’s as beautiful as I’ve ever seen it. Maybe it’s nearly a month in captivity that makes my freedom feel so much bigger now. Or maybe it’s the vastness of it all that makes me feel so small. As I watch, a shooting star streaks across the night sky, and then another.