“What are you doing here?” she breathed, when she was standing in front of him.
She kept a few feet of space between them, just so she could actually process thought like a normal, rational person. Even so, his spicy, crisp scent reached her, filling up her nose as intoxicating as it always was. Her pulse hammered with that familiar hard beat and her heart knocked hard against her ribs.
“I was hoping…” Blaze reached into the expensive leather briefcase sitting by the chair, the one she hadn’t noticed when she’d walked in. “That you could help me with something.”
Her breath caught in her lungs and all she could do was stare as he opened the case and pulled out a worn, crumpled, dog eared stack of pages. She knew exactly what it was. The contract. It was significantly worse for wear. It looked old, worn in, like it was twenty years old, and not just shy of one. The pages were smoothed at the edges, worn like they’d been thumbed through repeatedly.
“W-what would that be?” she stammered. Her hand clutching her tote was so wet that she was surprised there wasn’t moisture dripping all over the floor.
“Someone once told me that if I ever pulled my head out of my ass, to come back and give this…” he indicated the contract with a sweep of his gorgeous eyes. “To give this a try. So- I was wondering- uh- my head- it’s where it should be now. Up on my shoulders. Not between my cheeks at all. Although, I might still be an asshole, on and off. I thought that maybe you’d be able to forgive me and give it a try.”
Colette sucked in a breath that her burning lungs desperately needed. “I- er- give what a try, exactly?” She hoped that her face didn’t give away how desperately she wanted to give anything a try with Blaze.
“I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me,” he purred in his deep, velvet voice that he probably saved just for occasions when he didn’t want his female company to tell him no. “I promise I would be on my best behavior. No dirty talk. No funny stuff. Just. Dinner.”
Colette had to give herself a bit of a mental shake. She’d heard that before. Heard all of those promises, but this time, his eyes were filled with light and his voice was filled with sincerity.
She couldn’t help her smile as she reached out with her free hand and closed it around his. Not the one gripping the contract. The one that hung by his side, clasping the edge of his pants, betraying the fact that he, Blaze Hanson, Mr. Sex, walking sex god himself, was actually nervous.
“You know,” she grinned as that slow, beautiful smile broke over his gorgeous face again. “I’d agree to dinner, but I was really hoping you’d give quadding another try.”
CHAPTER 20
Blaze
In the end, they gave quadding another try. This time, they made it to see the river. Their friend, John, was pretty damn surprised to see them. Of course, he printed off an extra intensive waver, just in case.
Blaze flew them home and this time, Colette actually enjoyed herself. She pointed out the scenery and talked animatedly about their next adventure.
She was so sure there’d be many more, that it nearly broke him all over again.
She even agreed to come back to his place for a cup of tea.
The do-over of all do-overs. And this time, he did his best not to fuck it all up.
“I was an asshole,” Blaze started to say as he set a steaming mug of peppermint tea down in front of Colette. She was curled on his couch and he placed it on the industrial looking metal and wood coffee table.
“Don’t,” she shook her head, her eyes never leaving his face as he crouched down on the edge of the couch beside her. She reached for his hand, wrapped it in her own, and squeezed. “Don’t say things like that.”
“It’s true. I was.”
A ghost of a smile played over her lush mouth. He’d refrained from kissing her all day and it was something he meant to rectify, and soon. He wanted to make sure that she was ready. That she’d truly forgiven him, but he hadn’t exactly had a chance to ask her while they were racing through the desert trails. In the plane, it just didn’t seem right. He didn’t want to trap her when, short of bailing out the side with a parachute strapped to her back, she couldn’t go anywhere.
“You were,” she agreed. “Jury’s out. You might be still.”
“I definitely still am,” he corrected. He squeezed her hand back and her smile was so bright it nearly made his eyes water. “But if you’ll have me, I’d like to be your asshole.” He got serious. “I was a mess. Honestly. I just- floated through life. Bounced around. I didn’t want to feel anything. Didn’t want to face who I was or where I came from. I’ve spent the past eight months trying to get my head on straight. I actually even went for professional help. Can you imagine?”