by Avery, Joy
As if reading her mind—or possibly the mortified expression Eunice was sure displayed on her face—Aunt Belle put her out of her misery.
“Don’t worry. No one else was around.”
Eunice blew a sigh of relief.
“But you gotta be more careful.” Aunt Belle took another swig from her cup. “Let’s get this party started.” She brushed past Eunice. “Oh, by the way, my nephew is a fool if he lets you slip away. I kinda like you.”
Chapter 12
Blake stood propped against the doorframe, nursing a cup of apple cider. There were plenty of people gathered in the room, but only one beckoned his attention. Eunice. It amazed him how she’d implanted herself so firmly into his family. More urgently, the way she’d implanted herself so firmly into him.
One thing for sure, things would never be the same between them. Not with everything he’d said to her on the path. Plus, her admitting to wanting him too. It was hard enough looking at her now. How in the hell could he continue to work side-by-side, day-in and day-out with her? Especially with him wanting her more and more with every breath he took.
He couldn’t think about New York now. Hell, he needed to focus on getting through the rest of their time in Norfolk. Maybe he should say he’d been called back to New York for an emergency and would have to leave. That was a plausible explanation.
Eunice neared him, a smile spread across her face. God, that smile was paralyzing.
“Stop holding up the wall,” she said.
“I ate too much. I can’t move. Did you—?”
When his cell phone rang, Eunice’s eyes slid to his side. Damn. He thought he’d put it on vibrate. “Sorry.” He pulled the device from the holster. After glancing at the screen, he groaned. Sasha. She hadn’t reached out since she’d left his condo. Honestly, he wished she hadn’t now.
“Are you going to answer that?” Eunice asked.
“Ah, yeah.” Knowing if he didn’t she’d call him twenty times in a row. “Excuse me for a second?” When Eunice nodded and moved away, he slid out of the room. “Hello,” he said, pulling at the door leading onto the dual level deck. The second he stepped out into the frigid cold, he regretted not grabbing his coat.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Sasha said, her tone cheery.
“Same to you.”
“I didn’t disturb you, did I? I know how you like watching football on Thanksgiving.”
Yes, you actually did. But instead of saying that, he said, “Mom actually banned it this year. She wanted everyone to spend time together and not in front of the TV.”
“Good idea. I just love that lady.”
Blake pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it briefly. What in the hell was going on?
“I haven’t heard from you,” she said.
The words left her lips as if she didn’t know the reason why.
“We’re taking a break, remember?”
“Typical. Make me the bad guy, Mr. Perfect.”
Choosing not to respond to the cheap shot she’d taken, he paced back and forth in an attempt to generate heat. Glancing through the window, it provided an unobstructed view into the great room. Eunice sat crossed-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace. It caused a sensation that warmed him. He wanted to get back to her. “I have to go, Sasha, but I hope you enjoy the remainder of your holiday.”
There was silence on the opposite end. For a moment, he wondered if she’d hung up.
“Why are you treating me so cold?” she said.
“Sasha, I’m—”
“I didn’t call you to argue. I just wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving. But if you don’t have time for me, fine.”
The line went dead.
He shook his head, silenced the phone, and placed it back in the holster.
“Son?”
Blake turned to see his Dad coming up behind him. How long had he been there? “Pop. What’s up?”
His father stood next to him in the blistering cold. When he spoke plumes of white smoke escaped. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.” He tugged at his goose down coat. “There are only two things that will make a man stand about in this kind of weather—and without a coat.” He ticked off with his fingers. “Money and a woman. And since your woman is inside wondering where you are, I hope it’s money.”
Blake chuckled. “No one could ever accuse you of subtlety, Pop.”
His dad glanced through the glass. “Eunice has been gazing in this direction every two minutes. You might want to assure her everything’s okay.”
Blake nodded. “I will.”
His father clapped him on the back. “You know, son. The downfall of too many men is the upkeep of too many women.”
“More Solemn Farrington philosophy?”
“No, Johnnie Taylor. Than man could sang. Come on in the house before you catch the pneumonia. Mother wants to do gifts now.” He put his son in the headlock. “Superstar.”
Blake used to feel like a superstar, but recently he’d started to doubt himself. The Freddie Fingers sit-down—or lack of one—was weighing heavily on his mind. When he reentered the room, Aunt Belle lifted her empty glass into the air and dangled it toward him. “Do you need a refill, Aunt Belle?”
She batted her eyes. “I was married to a bartender once. He died. Slipped on a lemon and broke his arm. Ran into a tree on his way to the hospital.”
“Not one word, Solemn,” his mother ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” his dad said, settling down next to his mother and taking her hand into his. “I love you, sunshine.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
“Get a room,” Ian said.
Blake loved how in love his parents still were with each other. He honestly had no idea what his father would do without his mother. As grave as it sounded, he wanted that. Someone so essential to him that he couldn’t function without them. Impulsively, his eyes slid to the woman who was quickly becoming his worst distraction.
“Who wants to go first?” his mother asked.
When Eunice’s arm rose, his brows arched. “Eager beaver,” Blake joked. It surprised him that she wanted to go at all, let alone first.
“Great,” his mother said.
All eyes settled on him as Eunice slid a box in his direction. “Did you get me a pizza?”
A smiled spread across Eunice’s face. “Just open it.”
If he didn’t know any better, she was more excited about this gift giving tradition than anyone else in the house. He tore through the outside wrapping, then into the box. His lips parted, but no words escaped.
“What in heaven’s name did you give my brother to render him—of all people—speechless?” Tucker asked.
“Lingerie,” Ian said.
“Ian!” his mother scolded.
Blake eyed Eunice. “You named a star after me.”
She nodded. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I…love it.”
He displayed the full color framed parchment certificate, personalized with the star name, date, and coordinates. Then he showed everyone the personalized sky chart that also displayed the star name and date in addition to the constellation.
“What’s that, Uncle Blake?” Casey pointed to a location circled in red.
Eunice chimed in for him, which was a good thing because he wanted to know, too.
“It’s where Uncle Blake’s star is located in the sky.”
Casey’s eyes widened. “Cool.”
“Very cool,” Blake said.
Blake passed the booklet on astronomy around for everyone to browse, along with the letter of congratulations that had been included.
Lastly, he pulled out a silver ornament in the shape of a star. He read the inscription aloud. “You’ll always be a superstar. When in doubt, tilt your head to the sky.”
He stared at Eunice long and hard. If anyone in the room had harbored doubts about the legitimacy of their relationship, they would have been laid to rest when he placed his hand beh
ind Eunice’s neck and pulled her toward him. When their lips touched, it was like fire scorching him from the inside out.
Blake blocked out any and everything except Eunice and that moment. He sensed her initial resistance, but it only took a second for her mouth to surrender to his.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against hers. “Merci.”
“Have mercy is right,” he heard his father say behind him.
In a delicate tone, Eunice said, “Thank you. I mean… I’m welcome. I mean… You’re welcome.”
“Hot damn. Now that was a kiss. You done fried her brain,” Aunt Belle said. “You need an electrician to fix that overload. I was married to an electrician once—”
His father sighed heavily. “He died. We know.”
“Died?” she said as if she’d been offended. “That fool is still alive. I tried to kill him. Dropped a transistor radio into the bathtub. Unfortunately, it was battery-operated.”
When Blake faced the crowd, he was greeted by every eye in the room. No one’s surprise could have been greater than his. But judging by the stunned faces, theirs were a close comparison. “Well, I guess I’ll go next.”
***
Eunice still reeled from the kiss Blake had just planted on her. If that hadn’t been shocker enough, he’d done it in front of his family. His entire family. He’d set the stage for a very awkward remainder of the evening.
She understood keeping up appearances, but this was more. Something far more. He’d kissed her. Really kissed her. Tongue and all. Warm, tantalizing, delicious tongue…and all. Why had she enjoyed it so damn much? That was a silly question. She’d enjoyed it because it’d been fantastic.
Had it been obvious that it had been their first kiss? Not a peck like he’d given her in the kitchen. Their first real kiss. She groaned. Of course it had. She hadn’t done a good job at masking her surprise. What in the hell had he been thinking? Ugh. Damn you, Blake Farrington.
Absently tearing into the package Blake passed to her, she realized their situation had just taken a turn. For the unknown. For the worst. She had no idea which. But it definitely wasn’t for the best.
The fact that her brain remained scrambled might explain why she had no idea why he’d gotten her a map. And not even a store-bought map. Had he printed this from his office printer? She admitted to being lost and needing guidance, but she doubted this would get her anywhere but further misguided. Guess she could give him a point for originality.
“It’s a map,” Blake said.
“Yep, figured that one out,” Eunice said. “But—”
“Of Paris,” Blake said.
“Paris?” She glanced up from the paper. “You didn’t.”
He passed her a metallic gold envelope.
She ripped into it and gasped. “You did.” Two first-class tickets to Paris were inside.
“Museum passes, sightseeing excursions, a river cruise, and a private car service.”
Eunice pushed her palm into her chest, still staring at the tickets. “You didn’t.”
“I did. You’ve talked about going to Paris for as long as I can remember. Now, you can speak your French to someone who actually understands you.” He lifted his hands. “Because I don’t. But I have to admit, it does sound nice.”
“You speak French?” Mrs. Farrington asked.
“A little. I’m kind of rusty,” Eunice said.
“C’est le langage de l’amour,” said Mrs. Farrington.
“Since when do you speak French, Thelma?” Blake’s father asked.
“Since you bought me those Rosetta Stone CDs.
A wide smile spread across Mr. Farrington’s face. “I speak Spanish. You speak French. Together, we’re tri-lingual.”
Eunice bit back a laugh.
Blake laughed out loud. “You speak Spanish, Pop?”
“Si. That means yes.”
Ian chimed in. “Everybody can say yes in Spanish, Pop.” When Mr. Farrington arched a brow, Ian added, “But you said it with swag.”
“Grassyasses.”
“Grassyasses?” everyone said in unison.
“That means many thanks in Spanish,” Mr. Farrington said with a swollen chest.
Glances were exchanged, but no one corrected him.
Blake shook his head and eyed his mother. “What did you say, Mom?”
Mrs. Farrington shifted her focus to Eunice. “Eunice?”
“She said it’s the language of love,” Eunice answered. “Blake...” she paused. “I can’t accept this.”
“Why?” Ian asked.
Blake cut his eyes at his brother, before moving them back to Eunice and asking, “Why?”
Eunice fought the desire to lower her eyes to his mouth. She couldn’t risk him mistaking the move for an invitation. “Because it had to cost a fortune.”
It was awkward discussing it in front of his family, who were all tuned into them like their favorite soap opera.
“Money well spent. You had a star named after me for Christ’s sake. Besides, they’re nonrefundable.”
She stared at him with skeptical eyes.
“Man, you are getting lucky tonight,” Ian said.
Their mother turned to Ian. “You are definitely your father’s child.”
The room filled with laughter.
“So, when are you going?” Vivian asked.
“Better yet,” Ian said, “who are you taking?” He patted Blake on the shoulder. “Certainly not my brother, who I hear nearly fainted on the hour flight here. France is what, ten...twelve hours. He’ll never make it.”
Blake shrugged Ian away. “Should I bring up your fear of clowns?”
“Touché,” Ian said.
Eunice hadn’t considered the fact that Blake hated to fly. But why had she even assumed he would be traveling with her, anyway? It wasn’t like they were actual lovers. And France boasted as being a place for lovers.
“I’m sure Eunice wants to take her aunt.” He glanced at her. “Right?”
Hell no. I want to take you. I want us to walk the streets of Paris hand-in-hand. Eat fine chocolates. Sip great wine. Kiss in the Eiffel Tower. Make love in an incredibly overpriced hotel. On second thought, maybe Blake not traveling with her was a good thing. In fact, she was sure of it. Paris. Sexual tension. Not a good combination.
“Ah, yeah. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Eunice forced a strained smile. One would have had to be deaf not to detect the disappointment in her tone.
Chapter 13
Blake stared at the chess board, contemplating his next move. It wasn’t that he’d truly wanted to be challenging his father to a game at one in the morning; it was more the fact he hoped it would give Eunice enough time to fall asleep before he got to the room.
He wasn’t prepared for the questions he was sure swirled in her head. Those straining questions he’d witnessed in her eyes. Questions he wasn’t ready to answer, like, “Why did you kiss me like that?”
What would he say? Caught in the moment? Sticking to the role? He definitely couldn’t tell her the truth: the minute his lips touched hers, he couldn’t pull away. Nah. He’d given her enough truth at the path. And if she’d truly heard him at the path, she knew exactly why he’d kissed her.
Blake pretended not to notice his father cutting his eyes up at him every couple of seconds. Focused on his next move, he chose not to entertain the man. But after a couple more glances, he couldn’t take it anymore. “What, Pop?”
“What, what, son?”
“Why do you keep eyeballing me?”
His father released a smooth chuckle. “Something about you is different. I can’t put my finger on it.”
Blake pushed back in the button-tufted club chair. There was something different about him. It was called struggle. And he had Eunice to thank for it. These feelings he harbored for her were becoming harder and harder to control. Hence his tongue down her throat earlier. He’d even shocked himself with that move. Damn, that’d been bold. And risky.
“I’m the same old Blake Farrington.”
His father wagged his finger at him. “Oh, there’s something.” He straightened his shoulders. “You look confident.”
Blake couldn’t resist laughing at his father. “All right. All right. I may be feeling myself a little. Having a star named after you will do that to a brother.”
“I had a talk with your mother about that. All these years and she ain’t never had a star named after me.”
“Maybe you need to step up your game, Pop.”
“Step up my game? I’ve got plenty of game. I put the m-e in game. You better recognize.”
“You’re the man, Pop. You’re the man. No one can ever question that.”
They both laughed.
“On the real, son. That’s a fine young lady you got. I like her.”
“You like her because she laughs at your lame jokes.”
“Hey. My jokes are quality material. Kevin Hart ain’t got nothin’ on me.”
Blake chuckled. He rested his elbows on the armrest, then intertwined his fingers under his chin.
“What’s on your mind, son?”
His father knew him well. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything. You know that.”
Blake sat forward and placed his elbows on his thighs. “How did you know mom was ‘the one’? The woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?”
“That’s a serious question. Am I hearing wedding bells?
Blake flashed both palms. “No.” But he was starting to lax his views on the subject.
A wide grin spread across his father’s face. “I knew your mother was the one because she was the loudest one in the stands.”
Blake’s brows furrowed. “Loudest one in the stands?”
“You want a woman who will cheer for you—even when it’s clear you are losing the game. That was your mother. That is your mother. That woman is, has always been, and will always be my rock.”
“It has to be more complicated than that.”