by Emily Bruce
That sentence didn’t even sound correct!
Maybe she should just punch him in his sexy smug face, for old times’ sake.
Why did that stupid nickname piss her off so much? It was fitting, how many times had she punched him…
“Is that a threat? Am I supposed to be scared of you, a little girl?” he said in the menacing voice of their youth. The soft look in his eyes disappeared and now they were full of mirth.
This was the Blake Wilson she was used to, the asshole one.
Violet saw red. Then she did something she hadn’t done in a long time and lost her cool. She swung and punched him in the stomach, hard. Blake made an OOF sound as the air rushed out of his lungs and he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
Stepping away from Blake and all the intense feelings he seemed to arouse in her genital area, Violet turned and started walking fast. When she heard Blake call her name, she broke into a jog and wove in and out between everyone on the dancefloor to make a mad dash inside and up the back staircase.
The good thing about practically growing up at the Wilson mansion was that Violet knew her way around this over-the-top house and its massive grounds. She climbed the steps until she got to the third floor. She made her way into one of the giant attic rooms and shut the door. This room had been Sophie’s old playroom, with sweeping views of the coast and huge bay windows letting in light. She flicked on the light and leaned against the door. She stood there and tried to control her rapidly beating heart.
She groaned and put her hand over her face. What had just transpired down there with Blake was a total disaster! She shouldn’t have hit him, or slapped him for that matter. But he kind of did have it coming, he was going to say something about her weight, she just knew it. If there was one thing Blake Wilson knew how to do, it was push her buttons to the point of no return. Violet pushed herself off the door frame and walked across the vast attic space to the nearest window seat. Slumping onto the window seat, she sighed. From up here she could see that the party was still in full swing and she people-watched for a while as she tried to sort out her thoughts.
Was it just her or did he actually look at her boobs? His gaze had lingered on her chest for longer than appropriate. Was she reading the signs right? Or was this like when she was 17 and she’d gotten the signs all wrong?
And why was he still so handsome? Oh god, the cameras didn’t do him justice, he was so very hot and way out of her league. Hell, he even smelt good. Like, doughnut shop good, but with man smell.
Her instincts told her that he liked her, from the way his blue eyes sparkled to the smirk he had on his face when he talked to her. And when he leaned closer and his eyes went all soft looking, like he was going to kiss her. What in the hell was that all about? Why would he just go in for a kiss after 13 years of not seeing her?
Maybe she was reading too much into Blake Wilson and he wasn’t trying to kiss her at all…
Or perhaps she just had no idea how to read the signals and it was all in her head.
It was probably that one.
Seriously.
He was seriously hot, and she was, well, not as hot. Less hot.
Chapter 8
Blake
It had been one week since Blake moved home and he loved it. He no longer had to get up at 4 am and hit the gym for three hours. He was free.
Free to do whatever the hell he wanted to.
Sure, living with his parents again was, well, weird.
Since when did his parents drink so much?
They had gotten roaring drunk three nights this week alone. At one point, he had to go and tell them to keep it down because he was trying to sleep.
Maybe that was what retirement was like?
He was finally starting to feel like his old self again. It was amazing how a couple of weeks of sleep and not having much to do could energise a person. He no longer felt tired all the time or anxious about hordes of girls chasing him down everywhere he went. He could go to the grocery store and not have people take pictures and sell them to the tabloids, which was nice. The locals around here all just said hello to him and respected his privacy, which to him was like being anonymous. His morning runs along the beach were turning into the favorite part of his day. He had always been a runner and he liked to keep fit, maybe not in the peak physical shape Hollywood required, but he wasn’t about to let himself go.
This morning he was out early, at 6 am, and the sun was just peeking up over the horizon. Oranges, yellows, and pinks splashed the sky, the bay was flat, and all he could hear was the lull of the waves crashing against the pristine white sand. This was where he wanted to be, this was his home. He pulled out his phone and snapped a couple of pictures.
You didn’t see this kind of thing in LA, there was just too much damned smog.
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Blake turned and started picking up the pace to run barefoot through the sand.
Another thing no one would attempt in LA.
He swore it was the only way to run on the beach, to feel the sand in between his toes and sprint along the shoreline. As he ran, he noticed a solitary figure up ahead. He rarely saw people out this early and he took no notice, concentrating on the rock music pumping out of his phones as he thought about Violet.
He had only seen her once, and that was at his impromptu birthday slash welcome home party where he had sustained a slap and punch from her. Blake shook his head at the memory, all he had been trying to do was compliment her, but she seemed to take it the wrong way. He was going to tell her how hot she looked, but for some reason she thought he was going to say something about her weight. Sure, she wasn’t as thin as she had been at 17, but she was by no means fat and he liked the extra curves. He liked them a lot, so much so that he was at a loss for words about how stunning she was. He was also pissed at himself that he hadn’t come home sooner… She had looked so pretty, and nervous, as he tried to talk to her. And for the first time ever, he felt tongue-tied and at a loss about what to say to her. All the memories of their childhood and all his old feelings had swirled around inside his head. For some reason, she had rejected his advances. Maybe he wasn’t doing it right. He never had to worry about coming on to chicks, just one smile and they were putty in his hands. Not his Violence, he had gone in for a kiss but somehow sustained a slap and a punch to the stomach. It probably hurt her more than it did him, his abs were rock hard. He liked how her pretty face looked screwed up in anger, she was stunning with all that fire in her emerald eyes.
Maybe she was fighting their mutual attraction? He knew that she felt what he did, it had been like that when they were teenagers. He had been five years older, so there was no way he was going to act on those feelings. There was just something about Violet, something that he knew he needed in his life, and now he just had to figure out how to win her over.
He probably shouldn’t have reverted back to his teenage self and called her the nickname he had given her one summer when she was 12 and he was 17.
He would never forget that day. He hid his rubber snake in Sophie’s bed and got her good. She had gone to sleep without finding it, and in the morning she woke to find it lying next to her pillow. It was lucky that no one lived nearby, because she screamed so loud and for so long.
He wondered how she had talked for the next week.
Chuckling to himself as he ran, he remembered what happened next.
Violet had come over later that day and Sophie must have told her about what had happened, because she marched into his room, head held high, fire in her green eyes, while he was playing Nintendo games with Jake and Adam. She marched right up to him and punched him square in the face, no warning, nothing.
And even though she was a 12-year-old girl, she walloped him, resulting in two black eyes and a swollen nose.
Violence could pack a punch when she wanted to.
His buddies and his father thought it was hilarious. The amount of crap he caught about being punched by a 12-year-old g
irl! The nickname Violence was born.
To this day, his father and buddies still ribbed him about it.
Blake would only ever see her as his Violence.
Chuckling, he continued running down the beach, the fresh sea breeze mixing with a little mist blowing in his face.
He missed the beach and its memories. There was so much of his childhood tied up there, playing in the sand, fishing, collecting shells, and picking up out-of-town girls in the summer when he was older...
Blake dragged his eyes from the turquoise water to the figure now a short distance in front of him. Blake’s eyes flitted down the stranger’s form, the baggy pink sweatshirt, the tight black yoga pants, the blonde hair tied up with chunks of hair falling out. He watched as the stranger turned to look at the beach, he knew that face.
Smirking, he slowed down to make less noise. Time to scare the crap out of his Violence.
Blake moved through the sand quickly until he was close behind her. He was about to jump out and tackle Violet to the ground, when she stopped suddenly and picked her yoga pants out of her ass.
Blake hadn’t anticipated her suddenly stopping and then was so distracted by what he saw that he ran right into the back of her, knocking her down and falling on top of her. Hard.
Scrambling to get up off her, Blake rolled in the sand.
He sat up chuckling as he brushed sand off his shoulders.
Violet, on the other hand, still hadn’t moved.
“Violence?” Blake said, getting on his knees and turning her over.
She was gasping for air.
Crap.
He winded her!
Helping her sit up, he started dusting the sand off her as she fought to catch her breath. Pushing her forward, he rubbed her back.
Shit.
He was in trouble, and he couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter 9
Violet
Violet woke to the sound of her alarm going bananas. Groaning, she rolled over. She had been sleeping terribly since Blake came back, not that she had seen him since his party, and that was over a week ago. She felt her cheeks redden just thinking about the embarrassment she had caused herself that night. She scurried out of the party so fast that she forgot to say goodbye to Sophie.
Why couldn’t she just act like a normal person around a crush? Why on earth did she slap and punch him?
She sat up in bed and rolled her eyes at herself. He was the only person on this planet who could arouse such a violent reaction in her. It was like he had a direct line to the button on her temper and liked to push it frequently. She shook her head, she was ridiculous, she had punched Blake Wilson more times than she could even count, never once had she felt terrible about it. So, why now was she feeling guilty?
Because you’re now 30 and still using Violence to hide your feelings!
Deciding it was too early to get into an internal debate, Violet got out of bed and threw on some sweats. It was 5:30 on Monday morning and she was taking her fat ass for a run.
Last night she had been laying on her sofa, on her second pint of Icy Mountain, when she had come to the realization that no amount of ice cream was going solve the mess that was her life. For the last weeks, she had been eating more than a pint a day and her work skirt was getting a little snug. She was going for a run whether she liked it or not. Getting fat wasn’t going to make Blake Wilson like her.
With renewed purpose, she threw on some old sweats, strapped on a pair of old runners, grabbed her keys, and headed out the door.
There was nothing quite like a morning jog.
Okay, let’s face it, a morning walk on the beach.
Twenty minutes into her walk, she began to feel a lot better. Breathing in the cool fresh air was making her feel awake and energized. She totally burned off the stress-eating ice cream binge she had been on for the last week. And for the first time since Blake’s arrival, she was thinking of things other than him. Maybe she would go shopping in Houston on the weekend and buy a new dress for Sophie’s bachelorette party.
The sunrise was putting on a spectacular show. Yellows, pinks, and oranges swirled across the cloudless sky. The bay was calm, without even a ripple, and the gentle lull of the waves lapping the sand made her smile. She was so lucky to live in such a fantastic place. She was so glad she got out of bed early for this. The only thing that was getting to her was her damn panties. Why did she wear this old pair?
Every goddamned time she wore them they rode up, and every time she had to pick out the wedgie, she swore she would throw them out, but somehow they always made it back into her drawer.
Yes, she was that lazy.
Stopping and picking out her wedgie, she felt better.
Now she could totally feel at ease. That is, until something big fell on top of her from behind. Violet let out a yelp as she landed face first in the sand. Luckily, she had enough time to close her mouth! Whatever had knocked her over was big and very solid.
Too big to be a dog. Violet thrashed around as she struggled to move the solid weight which was pushing her into the cold sand. Suddenly, the weight was gone and Violet realised she couldn’t breathe. Her chest was tight, her lungs felt like they were on fire.
Oh god! She was going to die!
Violet felt big warm hands on her shoulder and hip as she was turned over in the sand. She stared up at the yellow and orange sky gasping for air, wondering if this was the end. Her life was now over and she never got to tell Blake she loved him still! “I love… I love Blaaake…” Violet moaned. If she was going to die, she needed the world to know the truth. A familiar set of blue eyes came into her line of vision. This must be the end, she must be hallucinating, because didn’t your life flash before your eyes when you died? Why couldn’t she breathe?
Those familiar sapphire eyes blinked at her as they scanned her face, concern growing in them. Violet let out a strangled moan which sounded foreign to her ears. The sapphire eyes came closer and more of his handsome face filled her field of vision. He was wearing a black hat and had that lopsided smile on his stupid perfect face, with white earphones in his ears, the cord drooping towards her as he leaned over. His cheeks had a tinge of pink to them and his eyebrows drew together as he went from stupidly handsome to seriously concerned.
Violet blinked a couple of times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. She kept gasping for air and was beginning to panic because breathing wasn’t really working. She closed her eyes, feeling woozy. She needed to remember that crap they did at yoga. What was it? In through the nose, out through the mouth? Or in through the mouth, out through the nose? Shit, she should have paid more attention! “Vi, Violet! Wake up!” The voice was so familiar to her and was yelling at her as something shook her shoulder. Violet opened her eyes again and this time her vision was clouded and she could see black spots everywhere. This was the end!! This was how she was going to die! She felt strong hands on her shoulders sitting her up.
“Just breathe Violence, you’ve had the wind knocked out of you,” came that sexy voice in her ear, sending chills down her spine.
Blake!
He really was here!!
All of a sudden, Violet felt less dazed and her gasping for air must have started to work, because she was feeling a little better. She twisted out of Blake’s grasp as she tried to get to her feet. She managed to get herself vertical, then fell to the side. “Violence, just sit down, you’ve been winded, you need a couple of minutes.” Violet wriggled, trying to free herself from his grip and get up and breathe at the same time.
Had she just yelled that she loved him?? Out loud? Oh my god! Nooooo!!
Violet wriggled around on the sand. She needed to get away from him. “Violet!! Stop thrashing around like a deranged shark! Sit still and concentrate on breathing!” Blake yelled, trying to forcibly hold her down.
She needed to get away from him! Like, now, and what in the hell was he doing knocking her into the sand like a crazy person??? Violet stopped thrashing as the need to
breathe became more critical.
She couldn’t breathe!
Strong hands sat her up again and this time they rubbed her back and Blake’s calming voice told her to relax and concentrate on her breathing, she was just winded. Violet tried not to think about the tingling of the skin on her shoulders where he rubbed her. Or about the smell of sweaty man and sea salt that invaded her senses.
Or the fact she was 70 percent sure she just yelled out that she loved him!
After 5 minutes or so of gasping for air so hard she had tears streaming down her face, Violet finally felt a little better and was now breathing normally. She was covered head to toe in sand from all the rolling around.
“Are you okay?” Blake asked, still kneeling behind her and rubbing her back. His hot breath tickled her neck as he spoke. Violet jumped to her feet and pushed away from him. She needed to get away, and fast!
“Vi?” Blake said, looking up at her as he knelt in the sand. He sounded worried.
As worried as Blake Wilson could get!
Violet watched as Blake stood up, brushing off some sand. He was now staring at her like she had grown two heads. Shit! He totally heard what she said!!
“What the hell, Blake! You nearly killed me!” Violet managed to yell on wobbly knees.
“Violence, it was just a little tackle, I didn’t know that you’d get winded. You do know that you professed your love for cake just then, right?” Blake said as his blue eyes danced with mirth.
Violet blinked as she took in what he had said. She instantly felt better that she had said cake, not Blake. She could handle that. Who didn’t love cake? Violet glanced across at Blake, he was laughing at her now. Feeling better on her feet, Violet stood up straight and lunged across the few feet between them, taking a swing and trying to punch him. She was still a little uneasy on her feet and she missed.
There was only so much a girl could take at 6 am!
He ducked and held his hands up in surrender, laughing harder.