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Now I really don’t know what to say.
He’s just flirting, like always. This is how he is. It’s fine. Breathe.
My phone rings. It’s Blake. “Hello?”
“Good morning, Beautiful.” His voice is deep and husky.
I chuckle. “You can’t see me. For all you know, I might look like a swamp witch.”
“Not possible,” he purrs. His tone causes an echoing twitch in my stomach. Butterflies?
That’s new.
I force myself to focus as he continues. “I actually have plans tomorrow with my eight-year-old nieces. A double feature at the movies, pizza, the whole nine yards. But I’m free Sunday if you want to go to the Memorial Day festival with me and share hotdogs and beer and carnival rides.” He hesitates. “Or I’m free tonight.”
Mark’s voice echoes in my head. Test the waters.
My heart beats faster, but not in a bad way. “How about Duffey’s at eight tonight?”
I can almost hear him smile through the phone. “I’ll be there.”
MARK
I’m in the kitchen when Charlie comes home from work Friday smiling, the first genuine smile I’ve seen in days. She must have decided to have dinner with Blake. As the thought crosses my mind, a flash of irritation pops up again, then evaporates. It’s the same irritation I felt when we first discussed her having dinner with him.
“You’re smiling,” I say, ignoring it. “Good day?”
“I’ve decided to try one more attempt at a Winner, but I’m going off-app.” She grins.
“Dinner with Blake?”
She shakes her head. “I asked him out for drinks tonight at Duffey’s.”
I smile in approval. “You asked him out? Way to kick ass."
“I’m testing the waters. If it doesn’t work out, it’s just drinks.”
I drop a kiss on her head. “I’m proud of you, Baby Girl.” She beams.
When she’s upstairs getting ready, I try to analyze what it is about Blake that irks me. It makes no sense. I love Charlie and I want her to be happy, and I’ve not reacted like this to anyone else she’s had dinner with. Maybe it’s because I know him, unlike any of the other doorknobs she’s gone out with. I don’t think so, though. It’s something about Blake himself.
I spend hours turning it over in my head after she leaves, searching for why this particular guy grates on my nerves.
He seems nice enough, though I can’t help rolling my eyes at how he flatters every female he encounters. I see him at the clinic when he needs to chat with Tom. He’s always friendly, not just with me, but with everyone. He volunteers with at-risk kids, and he’s a life coach, encouraging people to achieve their dreams. Physically, he’s good-looking, strong, and athletic.
Fuck.
That’s it. That’s what’s bothering me.
Blake is what I used to be – good-looking, strong, and athletic.
Now?
Now, I’m scarred, battered, and broken. He’s a visual reminder of what I was before I lost everything.
My problem isn’t Blake.
The problem is me.
