Exposed : My Mountain Man Protector(35)

The rest of the day was spent waiting for the judge’s mallet to descend. Blake and I poked about a few stores and spent way too long draped in Explore Bookseller’s comfy taupe seats with Into the Wild spread between us.



“Let’s go to Alaska,” Blake said with a grin.



I didn’t say anything, only smiled back. Couldn’t he tell that every easy comment he made about our future was getting my hopes up even more?



Finally, after we’d collectively read five pages and talked about 15 or so unrelated topics, my phone read 5:40 and it was time to go. By the time we got to the airy, wooded room, we were early. So were my parents.



Waiting at the front, my parents spotted us as soon as Blake and I stopped.



“Claire!” Mother cried.



She rushed over and enveloped me in an embrace of cashmere arms and jasmine scent.



“Mom,” I said, burying my head into her shoulder.



We stayed locked there for a moment. When I tried to extricate myself, Mother held on, her auburn head immobile.



“We were so worried. So, so worried.”



I patted her auburn head. “I know, Mom. I know. I’m okay now. I’m sorry.”



Throwing herself back, her penciled eyebrows arching, she declared, “That terrible man.”



Suddenly noticing Blake beside me, she paused and, throwing out a rose-nailed hand, said, “Forgive me. I’m Danielle, Claire’s mother.”



Accepting her thrust-out hand with a shy smile, Blake said, “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Blake.”



My mother’s eyes flicked to me, immediately noticing his omission of who exactly he was to me.



I kept my eyes lowered. What was Blake supposed to do, tell them he was my boyfriend when we hadn’t even discussed whether we wanted to be together?



“Claire,” my father said.



His round, bearded face was a single gleaming smile. His hug was warm and reassuring, and he was the one who separated first. Now it was on to Blake, whose hand my father shook with a stilted “nice to meet you.”



“We already reserved a table,” Mother said, sweeping out her arm, “by the windows.”



She set forth resolutely, ignoring the mousy waitress scurrying behind us. At a nice, glossy wood table for four, Mother sat down first, pulling me beside her.



“Here, Claire.”



I sat down beside her obediently, shooting Blake an apologetic smile.



“Ah, segregation, eh? I like it,” my father said as he sat down. “You and I have a bit of talking to do, young man.”



“Blake’s actually 30,” I said.



The table went quiet. My parents exchange a worried glance, while I realized I had just said the worst thing possible. Now my parents knew that not only was I involved with a man I had met on a forest hike, but one who was over half a decade older than me.



The mousy waitress (Jennifer) returning with waters for everyone was a welcome interlude. As soon as she left, my mother turned her frost-shadowed gaze on Blake.



“So…Blake, what is it you do exactly?”



Blake shrugged. “Whatever pays the bills. I fish, hunt, chop wood—odd jobs for people in the area. I earn just enough to get by.”



“You should see his cabin, Mother. It’s just beautiful—the trees and the pond and the stars at night.”



My mother gave the nod of a marionette whose strings were being tugged. Another awkward silence descended over the table. Outside the window, arm-in-arm tourists were bustling along, almost imperceptible from the locals, who had the same smiles and bag-filled arms.



Putting down his glass with a sharp clink, Father turned to Blake.



“Okay, young man, Claire’s mother and I are understandably worried about our daughter, especially after what just happened here with that Angelo crook. So, let’s cut to the chase, why don’t we. What’s your business with my daughter?”



Blake’s face flushed with an uncomfortable smile. “I…” he said. “I…don’t know.”



The silence after was the bullet in my heart.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





My parents exchanged a knowing glance and then directed their decided looks to me, as if to say, See? Blake, however, looked calm, composed—as if he hadn’t just stabbed a knife into any potential we’d had of being anything. Even I felt calm now; my heartbeat had fallen to a slow, miserable thump. Now I knew. There had never been anything real between us.



I rose. “I’ll just being going now.”



Blake rose too. “I will be too.”



I shook my head. “It’s fine, Blake.”



He grasped my arm. “No. No, it’s not.”