Chapter 6
Two DaysLater
I glancedat my phone one more time. No calls. No texts. Frowning, I tossed it on the dressing table of the guest room.
Now that several of my married cousins had cleared out, I was no longer stuck on the sleeper sofa in the library, but given a guest room. That was one thing to be said for having a serious boyfriend or husband. I'd rate a room of my own rather than a crappy sofa bed. I didn't know why Ava wasn't relegated to a sofa bed, but I was sure it had something to do with the fact that she was at least as old as my mother.
Despite our age difference, Ava and I had a lot of fun a couple of days ago after my night with Blake. After my shower, I'd gotten to watch as she drove my mother and aunt crazy, questioning everything they did during the Yule preparations. Maybe that made me petty, but I couldn't find it in me to care.
None of it seemed to matter much to me though because the one guy I wanted to call me hadn't done so. The silence from him made me glad I hadn't gone into the bathroom the morning after we had sex.
Rejection was never fun. Having to accept it gracefully, especially when the man rejecting you was so beautiful, well that would have been downright cruel.
I took a deep breath and squared my shoulder. It was Fenella's annual Yule party. I was going to have fun no matter what. If nothing else, Ava would entertain me with her impressions of the other witches and warlocks in attendance. She had an uncanny ability to see straight through people and mimic their behavior, mannerisms, and even their voice, but she was never cruel. By the end of the night, we'd have a crowd of people around us, begging her to do an impression of them as well.
I glanced in the mirror and ran a hand over my hair. Fenella had insisted on styling it for me and I had to grudgingly admit she'd done a good job. It fell down my shoulders and back in pretty loose curls rather than its usual wild tangle. My make up was light and shimmery and my skin glowed against the navy dress I wore. The upper bodice was nothing but dark blue lace, from the high neck to my wrists, and it was sewn to a satin strapless sheath. It was subtly sexy and one of the prettiest I'd ever owned.
After one last moment of primping in the mirror, I spritzed perfume on my wrists and my neck, slid my feet into a pair of matching pumps, and left the bedroom.
I realized I was running late as I descended the stairs to see guests already milling around the library and living room. Shit. Fenella and my mother were probably annoyed that I wasn't helping them greet people.
Craning my neck, I looked around but didn't see them. They were probably in the kitchen, making the caterer's life a living hell, so I began to walk toward the back of the house.
As I passed by the powder room beneath the stairs, a large male body crowded against my back and steered me inside. I didn't have time to react as he shoved me through, followed me in, then slammed and locked the door behind him.
"Hey!" I threw an elbow back, feeling satisfied when I heard him grunt. Then I became aware of his familiar scent and the weight of his thoughts pushing against my defenses. "Dammit, Blake! You scared me to death!"
The lights flicked on and I twisted around to face him. The powder room was small so we were standing practically toe-to-toe. I'd forgotten the effect his eyes had on me. As I looked up at him, I realized my dress was the exact blue of his eyes and I shivered.
I stepped back, bumping up against the wall. "What are you doing here?"
"Fenella invited me. Damn good thing she did too."
Confused at the amount of anger radiating from him, I frowned. "I don't understand."
Blake took a step forward, looming over me. "Why'd you leave, Candy? You didn't even say good-bye."
I pressed my lips together, rolling them between my teeth. Apparently, my suave idea to leave a note with my number hadn't been the right one. I definitely needed to brush up on my one-night stand etiquette.
"My, uh, mother called, all freaked out because she didn't know where I was. I left you a note."
"Your mother called and you left me a note?" he asked incredulously.
When he said it like that, it sounded ridiculous. Still, he didn't know Drusilla Devereaux Lewis. The woman was hell in heels and she could be downright scary. There was also another little matter.
"Look, Blake, I was trying to give you an easy out. I'd never..." I cleared my throat. "I'd never gone home with someone the first night I met them. It wasn't like you offered to make me breakfast in the morning. I thought that you being in the shower when I woke up was your way of telling me to get lost. I left my number because...because, well, I wanted you to call me."
"I didn't see the note, Candy," he muttered, still scowling at me.
I crossed my arms over my chest, lifting my chin. "Well, I left one."
He inched closer, his hands curving around my shoulders. "If you had bothered to say good-bye you would have known I didn't want you to leave at all."
Okay, that sounded really good. I also had no response.
Blake ran his hands down my arms, cupping my elbows. "You're somethin' else, Candy."
I always hated it when people called me Candy, until now.
