Ethan smirked. “Feeling a little jealous, aren’t you?” He expected his older brother to shrug this off or deny it outright, but instead—
“It doesn’t matter if I am.” When Thornton saw Ethan’s jaw drop, he said calmly, “I won’t let anything come out of it.”
“You smug, lucky son of a bitch.” Ethan’s tone was a mixture of chagrin and irritation. His older brother had to be the moodiest bastard for a woman to have as a lover, and yet the Fates had still taken to blessing Thornton with the puppy-eyed adoration of someone as sweet and angelic as Blake.
Ethan, on the other hand…he and Guila had broken up just too damn many times that he had stopped bothering to count the first time they hit double digits.
Thornton noticed the way Ethan was glaring at him over the rim of his canned coffee. “What?”
“I hope she dumps you.”
Thornton frowned. Dump him? They weren’t even in a relationship in the first place, although…
Six weeks ago
Thornton wasn’t used to girls having a crush on him. Members of the opposite sex had always been just a little frightened of him; the only difference was how such fear had made some women run away…while in other cases, fear had ended up being his major point of attraction, and women wanted to fuck him for the mere dangerous thrill to it.
But this?
Blake had only been working for him for a week, and she had already turned his world upside-down. People in town who didn’t even have the courage to meet his eyes in the past now sported knowing grins every time they saw him. Blake is crushing on you so bad she thinks you walk on water, their sly gazes told him, and we think that’s hilarious as fuck.
The first time it happened, Thornton had been speechless with incredulity and was only able to stare at the guy who not only delivered his paper but was also now the messenger of bad rumors. And when he had finally been able to talk—
‘You think she has what?’
To which, Pete had eagerly clarified, ‘It’s not just me, sir. It’s everyone. Everyone thinks she has a crush on you.’
‘Why the fuck would everyone think that?’
‘She talks about you all the time, Mr. Blackwood. Even when no one’s asking her about you, and when she does, she’s got that look on her face, if you know what I mean.’
‘No. I don’t.’ While Thornton’s words had been the complete truth, Pete’s dubious look told him the younger man didn’t exactly find it plausible.
‘You know how in cartoons they’ve got hearts popping out of people’s eyes every time they see whoever it is they’re crazy about?’
‘Yeah.’
Pete’s expression was as three-word eloquent as his tone (duh) when he answered, ‘That’s how it is with Blake, sir, every time she talks about you.’
The not-so-long-ago memory had Thornton slowly shaking his head at Ethan’s words. He still couldn’t figure out what Blake saw in him or, better yet, what she thought she saw in him, but…
“I don’t think she’s capable of dumping me.”
Ethan couldn’t help giving his older brother the middle finger. Smug son of a bitch, he thought again. The way Thornton had uttered the words in a matter-of-fact tone was galling, and while it would’ve given him much pleasure to tell the other man he was being presumptuous, doing so would’ve been pointless.
Both of them knew that would’ve been an outright lie, considering that fortune-reading incident several weeks ago. A Gypsy caravan had just arrived in town then, and when news of one of its elders being a palm reader had spread, Blake had been the very first one in line outside the old woman’s tent.
As for what she had gone running to the Gypsies to ask, Blake had actually revealed it only to Frankie while they were having dinner at the pub. But what they hadn’t noticed then was how the girls seated at the table behind them overheard their entire conversation, and from there news of Blake’s question had spread like wildfire.
Can you please tell me, she had apparently beseeched the palm reader, if my boss will ever love me back?
Chapter Four
It was already half-past six when Thornton’s truck climbed the uphill road leading back to his home, and he was relieved to see that the area was already empty of movie cameras and filming crew members.
Coming out of the garage, Thornton saw that the bookshop’s sign had already been flipped to Closed
and took the narrow side alley that led directly to his garden. From here, a cobbled pathway weaved past the rose bushes and plant boxes and went all the way to the front door of his sleekly-remodeled shipping container home.
Thornton’s private residence consisted of three remodeled containers. The ones at the side were of equal size, with the left container housing his bedroom and study while the right container, previously a storage room, had been converted to give Blake her own space.