by Ana Huang
“None of your business.” Blake pushed his empty plate across the counter. “Can I get a Stella?”
He should’ve known better than to expect Farrah to show up. She wasn’t the type to walk out on someone in the middle of dinner, and even if she did walk out, why would she come here? As much as he’d like to think otherwise, they weren’t friends again.
Blake wondered what Farrah and her date were up to. They must’ve finished dinner by now. Were they getting after-dinner drinks? Taking a romantic stroll by the riverside? Going back to Mystery Douche’s place for a night of wild sex?
Blake grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached.
“Jeez, here’s your beer.” Justin slapped the bottle in front of him with a wary look. “No need to glare at me like you’re planning my murder just because I took longer than usual. It’s packed.”
“It’s not—never mind. Thanks,” Blake muttered. He took a swig of his beer. The cold brew did nothing to ease his mind.
“I spy someone that’ll wipe that grumpy look off your face.” Justin lowered his voice. “Blonde. Three o’clock. Staring right at you.”
Blake turned his head. His gaze collided with the petite blonde at the other end of the bar. Wavy golden hair, bright blue eyes, full pink lips. She was gorgeous, but he couldn’t summon even a flicker of interest.
Unfortunately, she took their eye contact to mean he was interested.
“Don’t fuck it up,” Justin warned with a grin. He made himself scarce just as the blonde sidled up to Blake with a flirtatious smile.
“Hey. Do you mind if I join you?”
Bold. Then again, she didn’t look like the type of woman who got rejected often.
Blake did mind and would much rather wallow in peace, but he didn’t know how to tell her that without sounding like an asshole, so he responded with a noncommittal shrug.
The blonde plopped herself on the barstool next to him, undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm. “I’m Cathy.”
“Blake.”
“Nice to meet you, Blake.” Cathy leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of her generous cleavage. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing here all alone on a Friday night?”
Blake really didn’t feel like flirting tonight. He could leave, but a small part of him held onto the hope Farrah would show up. The best course of action was to extricate himself from the conversation—by telling her a story that’d have her running for the hills.
Hmm. I could tell her I have herpes. That should do the trick. Then again, with my luck—
“He’s not alone. He’s with me.”
Blake thought he’d imagined Farrah’s voice until the faint scent of orange blossoms and vanilla wafted into his nostrils. He spun around, his face splitting into a grin when he saw her standing behind him.
She came.
Just like that, his mood did a one-eighty.
“Sorry I’m late.” Farrah touched his arm, and an electric shock worked its way up to his shoulder, causing it to tingle in a way that couldn’t be healthy. She turned to Cathy. “Thanks for keeping him company until I got here.” Her tone made it clear it was time for Cathy to leave. Pronto.
Cathy sighed. “All the good ones are taken.” She slid off the stool and strutted away, causing a waiter to stumble over his own feet.
Farrah withdrew her hand, but Blake’s shit-eating grin didn’t waver. “You came.”
“Don’t read too much into it,” she warned. “I’m hungry and you said this place had good burgers, so here I am.”
“I thought you went to dinner. Date didn’t go well?” he asked casually.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Farrah took Cathy’s seat. “I just want a burger, fries, and a stiff drink.”
“Coming right up.” Blake flagged down Justin. “One Egret Burger special and a vodka soda. Make it strong.”
“You got it.” Justin slid an appreciative glance in Farrah’s direction and chuckled at the resulting scowl on Blake’s face before disappearing into the kitchen.
“My go-to drink.” Farrah sounded surprised. “You remember.”
“Of course I remember.” Blake examined the flush on her cheeks. She’d always hated how she turned red after drinking, but he thought it was adorable. “Red wine?”
Her hands flew to her face. “Is it that obvious? I must look like a tomato.”
“You look beautiful.” It was an understatement. Farrah always looked beautiful, but tonight, she fucking glowed. Her hair fell in glossy waves down her back, and her red lipstick made her lips look even fuller and lusher than usual. She wore a black dress that clung to every curve and a pair of killer heels that showed off her long, shapely legs.
A hot coil of arousal tightened in Blake’s gut.
Right. Time to change the conversation before his mind wandered in a direction that’d land him in trouble.
Boundaries. Stick to ’em (for now).
“Also, thank you for saving me from that woman. I was about to tell her I had herpes. I don’t!” Blake added quickly when Farrah choked on her spit. Fuck. “It was an excuse. To get her to stop talking to me.”
“So you thought you’d tell her you have herpes?” Her eyes gleamed with amusement and disbelief. “You could’ve just said you didn’t feel like talking.”
Blake frowned. Huh. She has a point.
Justin brought out Farrah’s food and drink. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he drawled. He winked at her and earned himself another glare from Blake.
“She’s fine,” Blake snapped.
“Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself?” A spark of mischief lit up Justin’s eyes before he shifted his attention back to Farrah. “If you need another burger, beer, or someone to show you around town…I’m your guy. I’m Justin, by the way.”
Farrah laughed while Blake’s hands clenched into fists.
“I’m Farrah, and I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, peering up at Justin from beneath her lashes.
Was she flirting with him?
A snarl ripped from Blake’s throat. “She doesn’t like beer, and she’s lived in New York for years. She doesn’t need you ‘showing her around.’”
“I don’t know.” Farrah sounded thoughtful. “You did say I should explore outside downtown more often.” She cocked her head at Justin. “How well do you know uptown?”
A huge grin overtook Justin’s face. “Very well. I can bring you to—”
“Nowhere.” Blake’s gaze drilled into Justin, who looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Don’t you have other customers to tend to?”
“Sure, but none are as beautiful.” Justin winked at Farrah again, causing her to blush. “But I should return to work before I get into any more trouble. With my boss, I mean.”
The Egret’s manager was the chillest dude on the planet and didn’t give two fucks about what his staff did as long as no customers complained.
Justin slid a sly glance in an apoplectic Blake’s direction before refocusing on Farrah. “Holler if you need anything, beautiful.” He sauntered off before Blake could wring his neck.
Farrah smiled at the bartender’s departing back. “He’s so nice.”
“Nice? He’s the biggest manwhore in the five boroughs,” Blake fumed. “Trust me when I say he was not talking about a stroll along the High Line when he offered to ‘show you around.’”
Farrah brushed off his concern. “It was harmless flirting. He’s charming and quite hot. I can see why he’s such a hit with the ladies.” Her gaze followed Justin as he made drinks for a group of older women who blatantly ogled him. “I’m not usually a tattoos girl but he makes them work.”
Blake hadn’t started the night planning murder, but if that was how it had to end, so be it.
“He only got those tattoos to pick up girls,” he growled, even though he wasn’t sure if that was true. “And that’s not the only thing he picked up.”
Sure, insinuating Justin had STDs was petty, but Blake didn’t give a sh
it.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Farrah said, not looking concerned enough for his liking. She bit into her burger, and her eyes widened. “Oh my God. This is incredible.”
“Told you. Best burgers in the city.” Some of Blake’s ire melted at the blissful look on her face. “Try the fries. They put a special house seasoning on them.”
“Mmm. Mmhmm.” Farrah stuffed her mouth full of fries and nodded.
Blake laughed. “In exchange for good food, I think it’s only fair you tell me what happened on your date tonight. It must’ve been bad for you to resort to drinking red wine.”
His best course of action was to redirect Farrah’s attention toward a topic that had nothing to do with tattoos or bartenders. If that topic happened to be a shitty date, even better.
His next best course of action would be to punch Justin in the face, but that was a backup plan in case the other man was dumb enough to flirt with Farrah again.
Farrah swallowed and wiped her mouth. “Fine. But no laughing. Promise.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
As Farrah recounted her story, Blake had to call on every shred of willpower not to burst into laughter. Jesus, her date sounded like something out of the movies.
“I can’t believe you threw a drink in his face,” he chortled.
“Neither can I, but he was such a jerk.” Farrah side-eyed him. “Why do you look so happy?”
“I’m not happy,” Blake said with a wide grin. His earlier anger toward Justin had simmered down…though he would still punch his so-called friend in the face for trying to get into Farrah’s pants if he had the chance.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my misery.” She nudged him with her foot, and his stomach did a stupid little flip.
“Hey, it all turned out for the best. You’re not miserable now, are you?”
“No,” she said with no small amount of reluctance. “I’m not.”
Their gazes met. Blake’s heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Her eyes never failed to mesmerize him. They held him willing captive, sucking him in until he got lost in their endless dark depths.
In that moment, he could almost imagine they were on a date. The banter, the laughter, the sizzle of awareness between them…it felt like old times.
That adage about time healing all wounds? Bullshit.
There’d been a hole in Blake’s heart since the day he and Farrah broke up, and no matter how many years passed, it remained as empty as ever.
Until now.
Farrah tried to hide it, but Blake spotted a flicker of emotion in her eyes. It wasn’t love—not the love that used to fill him with so much warmth he thought he’d never need the sun again. But it was the first crack in her icy mask since they’d reunited, and it was enough to send hope spiraling through his chest and into the space her love used to occupy.
Chapter Eleven
Six (ish) hours later
This was a Bad Idea. Capital B, capital I.
Farrah wasn’t sure how she ended up snuggled into a dark booth at one in the morning with the ex-love of her life, but she was sure it didn’t bode well for her heart.
Perhaps her ill-advised suggestion to check out a new lounge in Chelsea had something to do with the fact that she was a little drunk. Red wine, multiple vodka sodas, and a tequila shot would do that to you.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), Farrah was too intoxicated to consider the consequences of her actions.
She tapped her finger on her chin, trying to think of something good. “Never Have I Ever…Googled my own name.”
It was their third round of a game they’d played often in Shanghai. Farrah hadn’t played it since she graduated from college, but it was a nice throwback to her young, wild days.
“Bullshit. Everyone’s Googled their own name.” Blake narrowed his eyes at the smirk on Farrah’s face. “No? What kind of person are you?” He took a pull of his whiskey.
“One who has no interest in what the internet has to say about her. Tell me the truth. How many times do you Google yourself a day? Two? Three?”
He rolled his sleeves up. “What kind of person do you think I am? Five. Minimum.”
The laugh burst out of Farrah’s chest, unexpected and genuine. Blake’s chuckle joined hers not long after.
The buzz, the lighting, the music…they were doing things to her. Lowering her inhibitions, making her forget the bad memories. They still lurked in her subconscious, but they didn’t hurt as much, which was why Farrah asked the question she’d been dying to ask since she first laid eyes on Blake again.
“Are you still with her?”
She didn’t think so. She’d seen no signs of another person living in Blake’s condo, and if he and his girlfriend were still together, they wouldn’t live in different cities. Not when he had a choice of where to settle down.
But Farrah wanted to know for sure.
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend.” She finished the rest of her cranberry vodka. She was way past her drinks limit, but between Nightmare Ken and the way her insides heated around Blake, she needed extra fortification. “The one you dumped me for.”
The lingering laughter in the air faded. Blake paled. “You don’t want to talk about this.”
“I do.” Maybe it was the alcohol talking or some sort of latent emotional masochism, but Farrah wanted to know everything about this girl. Who she was, how she and Blake met, what their relationship was like. “It’s been five years. I’m over what happened between us. But I’m curious.”
Blake’s nostrils flared at the word “over.” He leaned back, away from the light, until shadows wrapped themselves around his face and the upper half of his torso. “We’re not together anymore.”
“Why’d you break up?”
The silence stretched for so long Farrah thought he didn’t hear her. Then he answered, “We couldn’t make it work.”
“Congratulations. You just gave the vaguest answer possible.”
Blake leaned forward again, his eyes hard, his jaw set. He looked almost angry, and she had no clue why. “Why are we talking about this, Farrah? Right here, right now?”
What remained of their carefree conversation hardened into something tense and dangerous. Farrah swallowed hard, her skin tingling from the change.
“Because it’s the elephant in the room, and an elephant isn’t part of my design plan.” Her lame attempt at a joke landed with a thud. She lifted her chin. “Look, we have a history together, but it’s just that: history. What happened between us happened a long time ago, and I don’t want it hanging over every meeting and conversation we have. So, let’s clear the air once and for all.”
“You think me telling you what happened with my ex will clear the air.” It wasn’t a question.
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. You did dump me for her. You can’t blame me for being curious.”
“Stop using that word,” Blake snapped.
“What word? Dumped?” Farrah’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what happened, isn’t it?”
Except it wasn’t. “Dumped” was too colloquial, too common. It didn’t adequately describe the pain Farrah felt the night Blake told her he’d gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend, and that he just wasn’t that into her anymore. Sorry, thank you, goodbye.
No, he hadn’t dumped her. He’d reached into her chest and dug out her heart, layer by layer, piece by piece, discarding and stomping all over them until Farrah had been sure she would die. She’d been raw, exposed, and bleeding, and he hadn’t even cared.
The memory tore at the scabs on her poor heart, so much so that Farrah had to down the rest of her drink in one gulp to ease the pain.
What the hell was she doing here?
Blake wasn’t a client. He wasn’t a friend. He was a liar and a cheater, and if she were smart, she’d leave right now and never look back. But her ass remained glued to her seat.
I’m an idiot.
“Technically.” Regret swirled
in Blake’s crystal eyes. “For the record, I know I acted like a jerk in Shanghai, and I am so, so sorry about what I did. But I’m not the same person I was back then.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” Farrah played with her glass. “When’d you guys break up?”
A tense silence. “Five years ago. A few months after we went home.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” The words exploded out of Farrah. “You broke up with the girl you were supposedly so in love with less than a year after you got back together?”
Blake was even more of a jerk than she’d realized.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I didn’t say I was in love with her.”
“Yes, you did. You said, quote, ‘I love her.’”
“Love and in love aren’t the same thing.”
“When you put it that way,” Farrah said sarcastically. “We’ve got the King of Semantics here.”
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs when Blake gripped her chin with one hand and leaned in, so close all she could see, smell, and feel was him. Her traitorous body went liquid even as her mind screamed at her to knee him in the balls.
Blake’s eyes glinted, as dark and fathomless as the sea at night. “I’ve only been in love with one person my entire life. She’s the one I dream of every damn night, and she’s the one who can break me with one tiny glance. I would jump off a fucking tower for that girl, and you know what? Her name sure as hell isn’t Cleo.”
Cleo. His ex had a name. Farrah filed this information away for future use—what kind, she didn’t know, because her brain had turned foggy and she couldn’t get oxygen into her lungs fast enough. She was burning, on fire from the weight of Blaze’s gaze and the heavy implication behind his words, and there wasn’t a rescue in sight.
“Aren’t you going to ask me who she is?” His question whispered across her lips like a dangerous, silken challenge. Daring her to accept the game. Daring her to say yes.
“No.” Farrah mustered every ounce of strength she had to tear herself away from Blake’s touch and kicked herself for almost falling prey to his good looks and charisma. Look where that had landed her the first time around. “I don’t care.”