Blatantly Blythe

by Sarah Hegger

  People looked up as she passed. Surprise and curiosity flickered over their faces. Coupled with the intense desire to obnoxiously chew and snap gum, Blythe had another flight reflex kick in.

  As if reading her mind, Eric cupped her elbow and guided her into his office. The warmth of his hand penetrated her workout hoodie. Those large, laborer’s hands, so at odds with the refined exterior and so capable of doing things to her that made her body sing his tune.

  So much for all that progress she had allegedly made in getting over Eric. How stupid one woman could be really wasn’t quantifiable.

  He shut the door with a snick, and she jumped.

  Alone in an office with Eric. All of Eric, smelling so good and looking even better. At least the office had glass walls, and they were in full view of the rest of the company. And the rest of the company had its eyes on them. Gazes running the gamut between hostile, curious and disdainful.

  Eric lowered the blinds and closed them.

  “What are you doing?” Her mouth went dry.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? It’s been ages since you would even speak to me, and now you’re here. I don’t want to share this with the rest of the office.”

  It would really help if he didn’t say stuff like that either. “I’m not here about us.”

  “No?” He cocked his head. “I gathered as much when you asked for Matt at first.” He gave her that devilish little half smile again. “Unless you were going to ask Matt to tell me that you wanted me to meet you after lunch behind the bicycle sheds.”

  And now he’d managed to make her laugh. He’d always been able to make her laugh. So much effortless charm had to be illegal. She stood a moment, struck dumb in the familiar dearness of his face. The tilt at the corner of his mouth, the gleam in his walnut eyes, the very hint of a raised eyebrow.

  “Get over here, sweet thing.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll show you when you get here.”

  She’d taken four steps toward him before she caught herself. He hadn’t said a word. The echo of a memory was all it had been. “I hear you hired Brett.”

  He looked taken aback. “Yeah, I did. He—”

  “You have to fire him.” Holy crap she needed to say what needed saying and get out of here. Take a glacial shower and maybe pound her stupid head against a wall for an hour or two.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? So far we’ve had no problems with him. In fact, he’s been great.”

  “You know what he’s like.” She couldn’t believe she had to spell it out for him. “He’s vicious and dangerous, and you should know better than to trust him.”

  Eric stepped toward her. “Calm down, Blythe.”

  Her temper simmered and spat into flame. Had anyone in the history of humanity ever calmed down when told to? Certainly not her, and not when Eric used that condescending tone on her. “I’m perfectly fucking calm.”

  His eyebrow rose higher.

  Which flamed her temper. “I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to trust Brett. I should be having this conversation with Matt.”

  That got him. His eyes flashed return fire at her. “You’ll damn well talk to me, instead of running away from me all the time. Unless you’d like to explain to Matt why I should know all about Brett.”

  “This isn’t about you and me.” The arrogance of the man amazed her, and it really shouldn’t because this was not the first time she’d run headfirst into the giant block of man-conceit that was Eric Evans.

  “Really?” His voice dropped into a silky drawl. “So you didn’t come here asking for Matt because you wanted to avoid me?”

  “You know why I would rather not…see you.” He was missing the point. Deliberately. “And whether I came here to see you or Matt doesn’t change the situation with Brett.” Which brought up another point. “And let’s not rewrite our history and say that sneaking around and pretending there was nothing between us for all these years was ever my idea.”

  He gaped at her. “You’re telling me that if I’d said we take our relationship public, you’d have been up for that.” He stepped into her space and glared down at her. “And I think Brett’s changed.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She stood her ground and refused to back down. “Brett doesn’t change. God, you just have to look at the rest of my family to know that.”

  “I don’t—”

  “And don’t even talk to me about you and I being anything more than your dirty little secret. You know damn well that was never going to happen.”

  “Well, now we’ll never know.”

  God, he infuriated her with his bullshit. “I guess we won’t.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  They stood there a moment, scowling at each other, both of them breathing deep. She was too close to him. Being so close ate at the edges of her anger and twisted it into something much more dangerous. “Are you going to fire Brett?”

  “No.”

  “Argh!” She ran out of words. She wanted to shove him, but she didn’t believe in physical violence. “You are so goddamn stubborn.”

  “That’s rich coming from you.” A different type of fire lit his eyes now.

  Blythe knew that look, she knew it well, and she forced herself to step back. A strategic retreat to save herself. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Why not?” He closed the gap.

  She put her hand up to stop him. Her voice dropped into a whisper that sounded less sure than she was trying to be. “You know why.”

  “I only know that you made a decision for both of us.” His chest met her hand and still he kept coming. “A decision I don’t agree with.”

  Mouth too dry to speak, her heart hammering in her throat, Blythe shook her head. “We can’t.”

  “Why not, Blythe.” He curled his hand around her nape. “We’re good together, sweet thing, you know we are.”

  God help her when his voice grew raspy like that. It chewed up her resistance and spat it out.

  She made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

  He wanted her. His look was all hot and needy. It strummed an answering chord inside her.

  Her eyelids grew heavy. His mouth was so close and her body remembered the taste of him. The way he could kiss her into an aching frenzy. “Eric.”

  “Blythe.” His kiss landed hard against her mouth. An uncontrolled thing of teeth and lips and tongues.

  His grip on her nape tightened to keep her there.

  Not that Blythe was going anywhere. The taste and feel of him rioted through her and set fire to the need she’d tried so hard to bury.

  He groaned into her mouth and deepened the kiss. His other hand fastened on her hip and dragged her against him.

  He was rock hard, pressing against her.

  Blythe wanted to climb inside him. Sex had never been the problem for them. As often as they came together, it was always incredible.

  But at the end of the day, it had only ever been sex.

  Blythe ripped out of his kiss and staggered back to put some distance between them.

  Her pulse still pounded.

  He was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed. “I want you, Blythe. I still want you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. He’d never know how much it cost her to ignore every screaming instinct that wanted to respond to their mutual passion and go back to what they had. Even if it hadn’t been perfect, it had at least been something. A whisper in the back of her mind insisted that even that small piece of Eric was better than no Eric at all.

  No, that wasn’t true. For as long as she held on to that piece of Eric, she held on to the hope she would get all of him one day. For as long as there was hope for Eric, there could be nothing else in her life. She grabbed the door and yanked it open.
“I can’t, Eric. I want more. I want everything, and if I can’t have it with you, then you need to let me go so I can have it with someone else.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, because it couldn’t happen again—ever—Pippa called the next day with a massive distraction. They had a slot for Blythe’s makeover.

  Today.

  Blake agreed to look after Kim, and Will would be around to help, so Blythe drove to the address Pippa had given her. Your Best You was filmed in a small studio in what passed for Ghost Falls’ industrial district. A few auto parts dealers, a tombstone supplier and an industrial bakery crowded around the neat, cream building.

  Inside a small reception area, Pippa, Bella and Liz waited for her.

  “Hi.” Pippa gave Blythe a big smile. “Thanks for coming at such short notice. You can blame me.” She grimaced. “I was supposed to set this up days ago, but I forget to tell the production assistant, and then I got the date wrong.” She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, pregnancy brain is a thing, and sleep deprivation makes it worse.”

  “Try menopause.” Liz snorted.

  Bella approached her tentatively. “I hope you don’t mind. I mean, I can go if you’re not comfort—”

  “Stay!” Blythe needed as much support as she could get. That thought put a quick hitch in her stride. She and Bella Evans being supportive toward each other. Who’da thunk it.

  Opening a door at the back of the reception area, Pippa motioned everyone through. “We decided to do it here because the team have all their stuff here.”

  “Team,” Liz whispered. “If Blythe needs a goddamn team, they’d need a regiment for the rest of us.”

  Blythe snorted a laugh. Liz’s flattery made her feel a bit more confident. She’d been told since she could understand that she was pretty, but she had never known what to wear or how to do her hair. She’d taught herself makeup from copying magazines, and later, YouTube tutorials.

  Pippa’s heels clicked on the floor, leading the way.

  Blythe had no idea how she walked so confidently in four-inch heels. “We’re going to try a few looks out on you, see what we like.”

  They reached the set, a dressing room floating in a pool of light at the far end of the studio. Lights, cables and cameras bristled on the outskirts as if daring her to step into the hot seat.

  A beautiful blond woman dressed in a floaty skirt and a tank top approached. “Hi, I’m Bianca.”

  “You do the makeup,” Blythe said. She never missed an episode.

  Bianca smiled her bright, glorious smile.

  “And this is Rory,” Pippa said to the tall black man by her side.

  Blythe knew who he was too. “Hair.”

  “Speaking of.” Rory stepped closer and grabbed a handful of hers. “There is a lot here for me to work with.”

  “You’re going to have to wait your turn.” Bianca elbowed him out of the way. “I saw her first and I get to play first.”

  Liz tugged Bella over to a sofa. “We should have brought popcorn.”

  “I did.” Bella dug in her huge purse and pulled out a bag of SkinnyPop.

  “Really?” Pippa leveled a flat stare at them.

  Bella blushed and looked abashed, but Liz grabbed a handful of SkinnyPop and grinned. “This is like sitting watching the show on television. Only better, because this way we get to add our two cents.”

  “Great.” Pippa rolled her eyes, and then turned back to Bianca and Rory. “You’ll get your chances, but both of you are going to have to wait.”

  Pippa walked her on set and over to a sand linen armchair, which Blythe recognized as the place they filmed all the interview and journal segments. “Phi had a really great idea and I want to see something.” She faced the studio. “Bernie.”

  “Yo!” from the dark, a man called back.

  Trying not to look as overawed as she felt, Blythe took a seat. “What am I doing here?”

  “Phi said we should put you on screen.” Pippa stepped back and eyed the setup critically. “Can we get started?”

  “On it.” A man popped up in front of Blythe with a light meter and gave her a naughty grin. “Don’t mind me.”

  “I thought this was a makeover.” Blythe looked to Liz and Bella for answers.

  “Don’t ask us.” Bella shrugged. “But you look great.”

  Fat lot of help they were. “You haven’t booked your assessment session yet.”

  “I will. Soon.” Bella grimaced. “Pippa has been stalling.”

  “Me!” Pippa glared at her. “You said you—”

  “Makeover!” Liz waved an arm between Bella and Pippa. “Focus on Blythe.”

  “Right.” Pippa gave Bella one more hard look. “It absolutely is a makeover,” she said and squeezed Blythe’s hand. “But we want to get some film of you to see how you work.”

  “Now? I’m not wearing any makeup or anything.” Suddenly nervous she plucked at her workout hoodie. “I’m not dressed. Is this like an audition?”

  “No.” Pippa smiled and perched herself on a stool opposite Blythe. “This is you and me sitting here and having a chat.”

  “She’s up to something,” Liz called and jabbed a forefinger at Pippa. “That’s the face she gets before she whips off your bedazzled track pants and puts you in a dress she says is age appropriate.”

  Pippa raised a brow at her. “What did we say about bedazzled things?”

  “Can’t remember.” Liz dived back into the popcorn.

  Bella winked at Blythe. “She totally remembers. She has more Juicy track pants than all of the Kardashians.”

  Someone moved behind one of the cameras. All Blythe could see was a pair of legs. Then a voice. “More light on Blythe.”

  Someone else shouted yes and bright light bounced off the back of her retinas. She had no idea what she was doing here. This all felt a bit unreal.

  Pippa nodded to the camera, and then turned back to her. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer as honestly as you can.”

  “Okay.” This felt worse than that dream where you wake up naked, and everyone is looking at you.

  “Why don’t you start by telling us who you are, and how you got into training?”

  “My name is Blythe Barrows.” She stomped on the desire to nervous giggle. “I got into personal training because I used to be a cheerleader.” No, that wasn’t the whole story, and she shook her head. “Actually after I left school, I realized I didn’t have that many options. I didn’t do well enough in school to get any sort of college scholarship, and that was the only way I was going to stand a chance. Nobody in Ghost Falls was going to give a Barrows a student loan. Pat pretty much red-lined our credit rating.”

  Pippa made an encouraging noise. “Keep going.”

  “Well, there weren’t a huge number of options open to me. As I said, I had been a cheerleader, and I always enjoyed exercise and being in shape. I started teaching one or two dance classes at my local gym.” The next part of the story was not one she’d shared with many. “I got interested in the ladies in my class. What made them want to be there. Why some succeeded and some didn’t. It made me want to do more for them.”

  Pippa leaned forward. “In what way.”

  “Well, we’re all individuals, and it’s the same when it comes to choosing exercise and diet. Or even what works for one person is different to what works for another.” Blythe lost track of how long she spoke, but her nerves disappeared, and she spoke honestly about her passion for helping people do the best for themselves and take care of themselves.

  When she’d run out of things to say, Pippa asked, “And what do you want, Blythe? When we make you over, what would you want to get from it?”

  “To be taken seriously.” Blythe didn’t have to think about her answer. “For all my life I’ve all
owed other people to tell me what I should look like. I was that Barrows girl, the slutty one with all the bad brothers, and I ended up dressing the part.” She indicated her yoga pants and workout top. “Now I dress like this most of the time. Part of it is for work, and part of it is because I don’t know any better.”

  “Really?” Pippa cocked her head. “I had no idea why you dressed like you did in high school. I always thought it was for attention.”

  Blythe couldn’t tell a lie. “Oh, it was.” She laughed. “And it certainly got me attention, but the wrong kind. Now I want to be treated like someone who has their crap together. Someone people can trust.”

  “I should have known that.” Pippa shook her head. “I’ve been doing this job for long enough to know people hide all sorts of things behind appearance.” She sighed. “I apologize, Blythe. I should have given you the same benefit of the doubt I give people who come on my show.”

  “It’s okay.” Blythe didn’t know what to do with the apology. She really valued it but it made her want to squirm like a five-year-old.

  Pippa huffed and stood. “No, it’s not fine, but I will do better going forward.” She looked at the camera and raised her eyebrow.

  A short, dark haired man with thick glasses popped around it. “She’s magic, Pips. Pure screen magic. The camera fucking loves her.”

  “Damn, Phi.” Pippa laughed and shook her head. “When she’s right, she’s right. She said the camera would take to you.”

  Heat crept into Blythe cheeks, and she couldn’t quite believe them. “Really? Me?”

  “Yes, you.” Pippa winked at her. “Bernie is never wrong, and if he says you’re magic, then that’s what you are.”

  “Now can we have her?” Rory stepped closer. “I know exactly what I’m going to do with that hair.”

  Bianca cupped her chin. “Hurry up because this face is begging for me.”

  The next hours passed in a blur of being tucked, primped, powdered, and coiffed.

  Liz and Bella went off to get lunch for everyone and returned.

  “Don’t you have better things to do?” Blythe couldn’t believe they wanted to sit there and watch.