“I noticed there’s a full moon out,” he pestered. “You know what your mom always said about kissing in the moonlight…” he chuckled. “All right, all right. I’ll stop for now. Listen, you’re doing a great job. I’m unbelievably proud of you, Sophia. Get some rest.”
“Sounds good, Papa. You have a nice night too.” She rested her phone into the cup holder and stared at it while replaying the embarrassing conversation once more. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes drifting over to his side of the SUV.
“What did he say?” Blayze asked. “Originally, I mean.”
“Oh,” Sophia said, “something about you deserving an extra tip for putting up with my objection to door and luggage help.”
That earned a smile from him, and Sophia felt the effects of it in the quickened beats of her heart.
“Sophia,” Blayze said, his face turning serious. “Why don’t you want men to help you with the door or your bags?”
She bit at her lip for a blink. “It’s not just men—”
“Yes, it is,” he said. “I’ve watched you accept help from a handful of women over the last four days. Graciously, I might add. So why not allow someone of the opposite sex the same respect?”
Sophia felt her shoulders deflate. “Because I guess I still have a chip on my shoulder.” She shook her head. “It’s stupid, but I had this group of girls back in middle school tell me I’d have to change if I wanted boys to like me. They were always acting so helpless around them. ‘Oh, I don’t know how to serve this volleyball.’ Or, ‘Do you think you could teach me how to do this problem? I have no idea what I’m doing.’ I thought they were crazy. But sure enough, it worked. The more helpless those girls acted, the more the boys in our school liked them. I was disgusted by it.” She shrugged. “I know it’s stupid, but it affected the way I view men.”
“Not all men,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t view your father that way,” Blayze pointed out.
“True.”
He nodded, more invested in the conversation than she’d imagined a man ever being. Blayze wasn’t simply trying to argue or make her feel dumb. He wanted to understand her point of view.
He cleared his throat. “I was raised that if you don’t help out a lady, you’re not much of a man.”
“Hmm,” she managed, feeling as if there was more to what he was saying. It might seem silly to hold on to something so small, but she’d clung to this stubborn piece of herself for a long time.
“So, I’m asking if you could possibly allow me to catch a door for you at random. Or carryonebag while you wrestle with your phone and your papers and the shoes you just removed?”
Ugh.An image came to mind when—earlier that day— she’d been juggling papers, swag bags, and an espresso, all while the straps of her freshly removed shoes dangled from her fingers. She must’ve looked ridiculous. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll try.”
Blayze gave her one of his barely discernable nods and set his eyes back to his notepad. But before he could sink back into whatever world he’d created on that page, Sophia had something she wanted to ask.
“Have you talked with the private investigative team this evening?”
“I have,” he said. “We’ve been focused on the guest list at the Maraddo Motel, but nothing has jumped out at us yet.”
Sophia nodded. Neither of them had mentioned it, but they were both very aware that today was the two-week mark. The day she would receive that dreaded, fourth package, if the hostile kept his pace. And yet, according to Roman’s wife, Tiff, no package had been delivered to Sophia’s front porch. Sophia couldn’t help but hope. Hope that maybe it’d all been a cruel joke. Hope that the rest of the campaign could go off without a hitch.
Roman pulled up to the hotel entrance. All the way up to the room, Sophia could picture what was now their nighttime routine. She’d unwind in front of the television with a drink while Blayze closed himself in his room for the night. No thanks. They’d gotten to know each other better than that; it was time they stopped acting like strangers.
By the time they stepped into the penthouse, she’d almost worked up the nerve to say so. She stood near the entryway as he locked up. The lights weren’t on yet, but they didn’t need to be. The night sky glowed along the white, stone floors while dots of city lights glistened beyond the glass. Blayze had Sophia wait by the entry while he took a surveillance of the place, including a sweep of the bedrooms, bathrooms, closets and hall. Her eyes drifted to the area in the far corner. A makeshift gym brought up just for Blayze. He’d made good use of it too. While Sophia had slacked off on her own routine, feeling too exhausted to walk even an extra step, Blayze made a point to wake each morning to bench press, arm curl, and run on the treadmill.
Sophia had tried very hard not to watch him while she went over her notes in the morning, but it was hard not to. He was strong, disciplined, and possibly more physically attractive than any other man she’d known. But there was more to Blayze Brockton than a muscular physique and handsome face.
“We’re clear,” Blayze said once he was through. Already, he was heading back toward the hall, but Sophia forced herself to speak up.
“Blayze?”
He stopped, rocked back on one heel. Light from the hallway poured over one side of his face—a suiting view, since there were still parts of him she had yet to discover. She knew he had a quiet strength. A passionate spirit. And a rare drive that compelled him to put his life on the line for God and country. But what about the side she hadn’t discovered yet?
“I’m wondering…” she started, “I mean, what do you do to unwind?”
He tipped his head to one side, seeming to test out the word. “To unwind?” He shrugged. “Read. Usually the newspaper. Sometimes a Sci-Fi.”
