Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family)(26)

Blake sent this. I can barely resist texting him, but it's late and he  could be asleep. I'll call tomorrow. I can't believe he's so sweet. His  gesture warms me up, filling me with a fuzzy feeling. Aaaah, what's this  man doing to me?

I startle when my ringtone fills the room, then make a grab for my  phone. The one and only Blake Bennett is calling. I answer immediately.

"Hey! I was just thinking about you."

"Great minds think alike." There's background noise on his end, so he's working, as I expected.

"Thank you for the alarm."

"For a safe trip back home. Promise you'll use it."

"Of course. I wish you were here," I say in a small voice, hoping it  doesn't come across as needy. I have no idea what the rules are for "no  labels". Then I break into a long yawn. "I need to sleep, I'm still  exhausted."

"Oh, sweetness, you wouldn't be getting much sleep if I were there."

"Really? And why is that?"

"I couldn't keep my hands and mouth off you."

"You did a pretty good job not touching me two nights ago."

"Yeah, I was being a gentleman, and I used all my dose of gentlemanly that night."

Another yawn takes me by surprise, but I stifle it, not quite ready to  say good night. I love talking to him. It doesn't hurt that his voice is  pure sexiness. I hadn't realized that until now, possibly because when  we're in the same room, I'm too busy drinking in his appearance to pay  special attention to his voice. I really need to work on my distributive  attention.

"Are you sore?" His voice is lower and huskier now. So damn sexy.

"A bit but in a good way. In a way that makes me want more."

"Clara...." He groans softly, and I bite down on my lip.

OhGodOhGodOhGod!

My name in his mouth sounds almost sinful, and I haven't even really  provoked him. I wonder what he'll sound like if I do, and settle on  immediately finding out. Don't leave for tomorrow what you can do today  and all that.                       
       
           


///
       

"I'm naked in my bed."

"I'm working."

"What's one thing got to do with the other?"

"I need to concentrate. If I have an image of you naked in my mind, I'm going to wreak havoc. Tell me you made that up."

"Fine! I'm wearing period panties and a baggy T-shirt."

"You really are naked, aren't you?" he sounds defeated.

"Yup."

"I'm a dead man."

I open my mouth but shut it again when I hear a voice calling to him  from his background. "Blake, come on! Don't leave a girl waiting."

I feel my insides tighten because I don't recognize that voice.  Certainly not one of his sisters. Oh man, I have to find a way to stop  panicking all the time.

"I'll leave you to get back to work."

"I have a bachelorette party here. Half the women are drunk already."

"Did they hire a stripper too?"

"Over my dead body will I have strippers in my bars."

"Blake! Come on. We need more tequila," yet another woman's voice calls from his end of the line.

Many customers at the bar call him by his name. He has this approachable  quality to him that instantly pulls you in, makes you feel like you've  known him for ages. I've watched him with customers, and socializing  comes easy to him. Almost as easy as it takes actors to slip into their  characters. Only Blake isn't acting. He's genuinely a warm and funny  person, and I can't get enough of him.

"Go back to the customers," I urge.

"Talk to you tomorrow? I like hearing your voice."

Those simple words fill me with joy and giddiness.

"Sure. Good night, Blake."

"Good night."

I click off the phone, placing it on the floor next to my bed. Ugh, my  alarm is going to ring in five hours. But still, even though I know I  should go to sleep, I allow myself a few minutes to bask in my  giddiness. I can't wait to return home and pepper him with kisses, climb  in his lap. I am going to make Blake the happiest man. Yes, I am. He  deserves it, and ahem, maybe he'll even fall in love with me.

I sigh happily into my pillow, even though I should know better than to hope like a romantic fool.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Blake



"Sinclair agreed to our terms," I inform Alice over the phone while I  hurry up toward Ghirardelli Square, where I'm meeting Summer and Daniel.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Alice's shrill voice makes me wince.

"Wow, easier on the enthusiasm, sister, or my ear will be ringing until our next call."

"I didn't make any headway on the phone, and I was sure we were going to lose him. Thank you for going to him in person."

"Well, I'm here to save the day."

"I'm so lucky I can count on you."

"Of course you can."

The business is running like a well-oiled machine, and I'm damn proud of  it, but I can't turn my mind off from always thinking about ways to  improve processes, cutting costs without lowering quality or squeezing  our partners dry. I don't need more money. I have enough money. Too much  of it, actually. More than one person would ever need. But I discovered  a few years ago that there is a thrill to building businesses and  making them thrive. I've always had too much energy. In my early  twenties, I wasted it on parties and hanging around with people who  weren't worth my time, much less my energy or affection. Then I got my  head out of my ass, focused more on the family and on building  something.

"You're meeting Summer now, right?"

"Yep. Daniel too."

"Can you do me a favor and put on your best entertainment show for her?"

"What happened?"

"Love troubles. Another douchebag playing with her. But don't tell her I said anything."

Just like that, I take my business hat off, slipping into brother mode.

"What? She's dating? Who do I have to kill?" Here's the thing: Logan is  in intense mode all the time, and Christopher and Max are on the relaxed  end of the spectrum. I'm way more balanced. But when someone threatens  to hurt my family, I switch to motherfucking intense in five seconds  flat.

"Don't be dramatic."

I can practically hear her rolling her eyes. "Okay, I'll settle for maiming."

"I have to go now, but just cheer her up, please?"

"Deal."

I arrive at our meeting point in Ghirardelli Square at the same time as  Daniel. Summer is already at a booth, inspecting some gigantic red  flower that looks like the stuff of kids' nightmares. A cross between a  carnivorous plant and the boogeyman. Come to think of it, I will  probably have nightmares because of it.                       
       
           


///
       

Summer wants to plant some new stuff in her yard, and she asked Daniel  and me to come here with her today to look at the temporary pop-up  flower market and help carry the supplies. Considering the amount of  planning and scheduling it takes to see my own family these days, I jump  at any occasion, even when I'm practically being used as a flower mule.  Mid-June strikes me as an odd period to plant flowers, but it's not  like I know anything on the subject.

"Hello, fellow Bennetts," I greet.

Summer kisses my cheek, then shows me her list. Correction. Flower, pots, earth, and fertilizer mule.

"Thank you both so much for helping me," Summer says. "I'm buying you drinks for this."

"Excellent!" Daniel eyes her list with a raised eyebrow. "Can we start with that?"

"We'd better. You're gonna need sustenance. There's a booth with snacks  and drinks over there." She elbows us playfully, and then we head toward  the booth. Five minutes later, sodas in hand, Daniel asks me, "You  going to Emma's birthday?"

"Nah, too many people I don't want to see there."

"Same for me."

Emma's cousin was the one who wanted to sell the details I told her  about Pippa's divorce to the press. Emma did assure me she had no idea,  but by that time, I didn't believe any of them anymore, so I stepped way  back. That's what you do when you can't tell the true friends from the  fake ones. Here's the thing though, always keeping your guard up is  exhausting, not to mention lonely as hell. Daniel has always been the  more distrustful of the two of us, kept his guard up more than I did.

"Let's make a tour and see what we find from my list," Summer suggests.

The flower market is loud and busy: vendors pulling you aside, trying to  sell their merchandise; buyers questioning and negotiating. Summer  keeps her list close, checking off the items she finds.

"How's the gallery?" Daniel asks her.

"We have a new Picasso collection this month. Attracting quite the crowd."

Daniel raises his eyebrows, clearly picking up something's wrong.  Usually, when Summer talks about the gallery, she goes on forever. I  don't think Alice clued him in, though.