I stop to lean against the threshold of the kitchen and watch as Blair moves around the space. She picked up where everything was pretty quickly; now she looks utterly at home. There’s a thoughtful pinch of her brows and a frown that tugs at her mouth. Is she deep in thought? Is something bothering her? When she reaches up to grab the knob of a cupboard, she flinches.
“Can I help you find something?” I ask her.
Blair gingerly turns around to face me, looking the epitome of innocence.
“Nope, I’m good. I’m just… looking for a sweet treat.”
My body tenses at the lie.
She’sgood?
It doesn’t look like it to me.
“Can I make you one of my favorite treats?” I press her.
“I don’t need assistance, Wes,” she counters. “Thanks, though. You can head back in with the others.”
Ignoring her not-so-subtle dismissal, I push off the wall and walk toward her. She steps aside with a sigh as I reach up, open the cupboard, and grab for a mug. Rather than hand it to her,however, I take it and begin pulling the ingredients out for hot chocolate.
“What are you doing? I don’t even know what I want. Why are?—”
“Let me make you some hot chocolate. It’s my favorite go-to drink when I’m having a rough go of it,” I interrupt as I reach for the real chocolate bars then head for the refrigerator where the whole milk is. “While I do, you can tell me how you got that bruise on your face.”
I look over in time to watch Blair reach up and gently poke the spot by her eye. She gives me a sheepish smile when she catches me staring.
“This? I fell out of bed this morning and hit my eye on the nightstand,” she answers with a shrug.
Another lie.
Blair’s good at this.
Grabbing a small pot hanging over the island, I walk over and I place it on the stove. I turn on the burner then dump the ingredients into it. As the chocolate melts, I turn to face Blair again and cross my arms over my chest.
“Hurt your back falling out of bed too?” I ask her.
Annoyance flashes in those dark eyes.
“I must’ve slept weird.”
I raise a brow. “Care to let me see?”
“See what? Myback?” She laughs lightly. “It’s just a small tweak, there’s nothing to see.”
My patience is wearing thin with her. Typically, it’s hard to rile me up. Santi tries on a daily basis but I don’t mind his taunts and teases. His dramatics liven the place up. It’s been a while since I’ve actually found myself angry but Blair’s lies are getting to me.
“Blair,” I start, trying hard to breathe through the irritation. “You don’t have to hide anything from me, you know that, right?”
Her eyes narrow on me. “I’m not.”
“Lie again,” I warn, my voice deepening as anger begins to burn away the last remnants of my patience. “And we’re going to have a problem.”
“If you don’t mind your own business, yes you’re right; wearegoing to have a problem,” she agrees.
Her response surprises me, and I don’t quite know why. Maybe it’s because she’s typically easy-going and even-tempered. Rhett might be constantly rude to her, and Santi’s joking nature can sometimes escalate into pushing her buttons to get under her skin, but Blair allows everything to simply roll off her.
Blair’s nonchalance is only one side of her. Because she’s so demure, I find myself forgetting that she’s more than meets the eye. Blair’s a strong woman,of courseshe wouldn’t be phased by a threat. I like that about her. She’s not a wilting flower—she’s a fighter.
My bet is that Rhett found that out the hard way.
