“—once those are ordered, I should be good,” Blair says as I enter the kitchen.
“We can probably go into town later and get a lot of this at a few different stores,” Wes replies with a nod, looking down at whatever she’s holding out to him while he shakes the handle of the pan he’s holding over the stove. “It would be quicker than ordering them. Then the nurses’ station can be up and running by mid-week.”
Both she and Wes have their backs turned to me so they don’t notice me entering. I take the moment to study Blair’s lithe frame. Ledger’s icy words chased me into my dreams last night. How had Blair survived a life like the one he’d described? One where she’d been trapped and mistreated by her own father. You’d never know by looking at her that her past wasn’t typical. She seems… normal. I suppose normal can be an illusion. If it is a guise, what’s she like beneath her pretty exterior?
She turns around suddenly and catches me staring. I stiffen as she gives me a tight-lipped smile.
“Good morning,” she greets.
My head lifts in a stiff salute as I fight back the embarrassment heating my face. I saunter over to the island and flop down onto one of the stools.
“What’s for breakfast?” I ask Wes who looks over his shoulder at me.
His smile is warmer than hers. “Biscuits, with some spicy sausage gravy, and bacon.”
My stomach grumbles with anticipation. Wes always makes us good meals, but I swear since Blair showed up the two of them have been competing on who can cook the best. I’ve yet to be disappointed in anything they make.
Before I can respond, the hurried sound of familiar footsteps draws near. I look over my shoulder to see Santi hurry into the room, showered, dressed, and ready for the day.
“Hey,” he greets, patting me on the back as he passes me, then heads straight for Blair.
“You stayed the night?” I ask him.
I hadn’t heard him slip into the guest room next to mine where he usually stays when The Hunt goes late. That, or he ends up in my bed. Ledger and I were out late handling shit, maybe I missed their arrival?
“Yup,” he replies simply.
I don’t know why but his answer bothers me. It’s the lack of information that really rubs me the wrong way. I track his progress through the kitchen as I wonder who won the game last night. What did winning look like to them? And more importantly, why didn’t Santi come find me when he came back?
When he told me he was going out last night with Blair, I tried to play it cool.
I tried to be relieved that he wasn’t demanding my attention or affection.
I wanted to appreciate a night on my own.
I was not cool. I was not relieved. And I had no appreciation for the solitude. Rather than examine why, I stood by and watched Ledger torture a man. The blood did nothing to distract me from wondering about what these two were up to.
Santi stops before Blair. He grabs her face with both hands, then bends his head to give her a deep kiss right on the lips. She stiffens in surprise and I mirror the reaction, too stunned to do anything but stare.
What. The. Actual.Fuck?
Heat flares in my chest and billows up into my face. My heart races while simultaneously fraying along the edges. I can’t look away. Nor can I stop myself from watching Santi melt up against Blair as if the kiss is making his knees weak. Despite the heat in my face and chest, a painful chill weasels its way through my veins.
Wes catches the tail end of the kiss and smiles before his attention returns to the bacon.
Santi pulls his mouth away from Blair’s so that he can beam down at her.
“Good morning,” he says cheerfully. “Sleep well? I knowIdid.”
Blair giggles. The sound is more nervous than amused. Her eyes slide in my direction. They lock with mine for a fraction ofa second, before she quickly looks back up at Santi. Blair reaches up to wrap her fingers around his wrists, and she gently pulls his hands away from her face. Rather than drop them or step away, though, she simply holds them as she smiles up into Santi’s face.
“Yeah, I did,” she admits.
My mouth drops open as I watch Blair get flustered under Santi’s smoldering look.Thisis the girl with a grisly childhood? She could’ve fucking fooled me. Blair looks utterly smitten.
That freezing burn in my veins intensifies. I try to ignore it, hoping like hell it’s not something like jealousy or resentment. That would be dumb of me to react that way. I’ve made it a point to keep Santi at arm’s length. No feelings—those were my terms when we started fucking. So why is it that my throat is threatening to close on me? Why are my hands, now fisted, trembling?
“Are we still going to head out after work to pick that thing up?” Santi asks her, unbothered that he has an audience of one openly staring at the two of them.
