But then it struck him—Mr. Vasco said she hadn’t believed her mother’s death was anything but an accident.
Roman shot a nod toward Sophia’s house, but Blayze had already heard the squeak of the front door. He glanced over in time to see her shuffle onto the porch in a set of high heels, her fingers gripping the extended handle of a small suitcase. She positioned it behind her while lifting a wardrobe bag high off the ground. A brown leather purse big enough to hold a small file cabinet hung over her shoulder and bounced off her hip while she walked.
“Excuse me,” Blayze mumbled. He got three steps in before Roman spoke up.
“Dude, don’t bother,” he hissed. “She doesn’t want help.”
“Too bad.” Blayze marched up the steps and, without asking, lifted the zipped wardrobe bag from her grip. Not the dangling strap of the purse that threatened to fall. Not the rolling case she’d have to hoist into the SUV, just the wardrobe bag. Compromise.
“No, I’ve got it,” Sophia protested, but Blayze was already walking away with it. He moved to the back of the SUV, flung open the hatchback and looped the hanger around the clothing hook.
“I said I could have gotten that myself.”
Blayze spun around, watched as she parked her suitcase and pressed the extended lever back into its nook. He resisted the urge to take that from her as well. “Sophia,” he said as she struggled to hoist the case into the back.
“What?” she grunted.
“Would you just let me help you, please?”
She pinned the suitcase between the back of the SUV and her skirt-covered thighs, letting it rest there before she wiggled it in. “Blayze?” she said, stepping back as he closed the hatchback.
“Yes?” He walked Sophia to her side of the car, the steady click of her heels echoing along the drive. Though he already knew what she’d say, he opened the door for her and stepped back.
He lifted his gaze until their eyes met. Sophia’s brown eyes narrowed, the heat in them stirring something low in his belly.
“Is it going to be hard for you to allow me to do things on my own?”
He tipped his head, wondering if he should answer honestly.
“Did you feel an overwhelming urge to help Roman move his bags from his car to this one?”
Roman cleared his throat from the other side of the vehicle. Sounded more like a laugh.
“No, I did not.”
Her lip quirked the slightest bit before flattening into a line once more. “I know it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And trust me, I know that gentlemen are in short supply. It’s just that— I don’t like being made to feel like the weaker sex.”
Please say he wasn’t giving in to an eye roll.Come on, Blayze, just nod and close her door.No, letherclose the door. He took a step back without so much as a nod and strode around the back of the car.
“I told you,vato,” Roman mumbled.
“Yeah, wellshealready told me too—last night.”
Roman turned bug-eyed. “Then why—”
“Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.” Blayze climbed in behind the driver’s seat. The Land Rover allowed for more space than most. And after being sealed up in a tank for hours on end, or even a chopper, it was like riding first class. He strapped his seatbelt, hoping to restrain his irritation as well, and tugged the notebook from his pack. A quick glance at the schedule reminded Blayze that he had a call to make.
“You know,” Sophia said, “I wish I could get over my aversion to accepting help, but I just can’t.”
Blayze hovered his thumb over the phone number he’d pulled up on his screen. “What’s that?”
“I’ve obviously got issues to be so … adverse to accepting a little help.”
It took everything in him to stay quiet. To keep from saying something he shouldn’t, Blayze tapped the screen, initiating a call to the security department of the university they were headed to. The same university that would host the final event Sophia had said she wasn’t—under any circumstances—willing to miss.
Sophia scanned a small stack of typed papers, her lips moving soundlessly as her eyes scanned from left to right. Left to right.
She was practicing her speech, he realized. The mere idea caused a whole new knot of nerves to build up in his chest, the energy in the cab seeming to shift.
