Chapter Three
I can’t sleep.
Molly glanced at the clock on her nightstand.
Crap, I have to be up in three hours.
It was two in the morning, and she couldn’t fall asleep. She’d been trying to drift off for the better part of thirty minutes, and it hadn’t worked. Molly had tried everything—she’d gotten a shower, changed into warm pajamas, grabbed a soothing cup of chamomile tea and nothing worked.
Ugh. What if I can’t? She had too much stuff to do, to shuffle through her day like a zombie.
Okay, less thinking, and more sleeping.
Fisting her hands at her sides, Molly shut her eyes and willed herself to dreamland. She stayed in the ridiculous position for what felt like hours, but it didn’t work.
Shocker.
Grumbling to herself, Molly jammed her feet into slippers and headed downstairs.
Maybe a snack would help? Or I’m simply looking for something to do. Either way, I want some cheese.
When she crept downstairs, Molly found Blaze standing in front of the open refrigerator door.
Yeesh.
Blaze muttered to himself, cursing under his breath as he poked around in the fridge.
Evidently, he was having trouble locating a meal. He and his brothers had gone grocery shopping the other day, and it was jam-packed with food. Ivy and Amy had to rearrange everything, so they had space for their own supplies.
Molly turned on her heel, suddenly eager to return to her room.
“Hello, dove.”
Busted.
Molly turned around slowly. “Hi.”
“You don’t look pleased to see me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not in the best mood.” It was a non-answer, sort of reply.
“Why are you still up?” He leaned against the counter, and then nearly tripped over his own feet. Blaze clutched it, as though he stood on the edge of a cliff, about to plunge to his death.
“Are you drunk?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, Blaze watched her with this dreamy sort of expression.
“Blaze?”
“What?” He blinked rapidly, as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, you asked me a question. What was it again?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Have you been drinking?”
“Yes, I’ve had a great deal of ale this evening.” His smile was smug.
“You went to the bar again, huh?” The brothers spent an awful lot of their free time at the Flaming Kettle.
Blaze hiccupped. “Yes, with Destrian, Crispin, and Rowan. I think they went upstairs, but I was hungry, so I stopped for some sustenance.”
Sustenance? There’s another one of those outdated words.
And then he reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold chicken leg. The brothers enjoyed roasting meats of all sorts. Earlier in the evening, they’d cooked the chicken over the fireplace in the Great Room, rather than using the oven, like normal people.
Blaze chomped on it. “I quite enjoy this chicken.” He said the word, as though there was a hyphen between the syllables. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you. Good night.” And with that, she hurried to the stairs.
“Wait, can you assist me to my room?” Blaze walked a few paces, and then leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. “This room is spinning around me at the moment.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I assure you, it is.” He groaned.
“How’d you even get here?” She couldn’t imagine him walking all the way in the snow, in this state.
“I was fine until I slowed down.”
The Smiths didn’t own a vehicle, which she couldn’t quite figure out. According to Amy, who’d checked them in, and examined their identification, they were from a small village near the Arctic Circle, so they must have some mode of transport, even though no one had seen it.
Anyway, they hoofed it around Bleak Bay, hiking miles to the grocery store, and the bar, as well as work, which they were frustratingly vague about. Amy had said they were mining a mineral of some sort for their company, but she hadn’t elaborated. Molly supposed it didn’t matter, it was only idle curiosity on her part.
He held out a hand. “Please?”
Molly heaved a sigh. She wished she could tell Blaze to figure it out or sleep on the floor, but he was a guest, so Molly had to be accommodating.
Customer service sucks.
“Of course, I’d be happy to assist you.” Although, Molly doubted she’d be much help. He had a couple feet on her, and at least seventy pounds of pure muscle. Getting Blaze up the staircase would be a bit like an ant pushing a boulder up a hill.
“Excellent, I need to lean on you.” Before Molly could protest, Blaze lumbered toward her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
And then the most curious thing happened. She instantly relaxed, no longer perturbed by his behavior, or her impending morning alarm. Molly pressed her side to his and hooked an arm around his waist, supporting him up the stairs.
“Thank you for helping me, dove.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
For once, his voice hadn’t dripped with innuendo.
This was the first time Molly felt he’d been real with her. And even more disturbing, Molly enjoyed it, she liked the glimpse of the man behind all the charm. He was vulnerable and maybe even sincere. This was a man she wouldn’t mind talking to and getting to know better.
Okay, it’s definitely time for me to go.
When they reached his room, Molly fished the keys from his pocket and unlocked it, and then pushed the door open. Blaze staggered away from her, and then collapsed on the bed, rolling over on one side, so he could look at her.
Yup, it’s my cue to leave.
“Well, good night.”
Blaze patted the bed. “Come here.”
Nope, not gonna happen.
Funny, but now that he wasn’t touching her, she was anxious once more.
Am I imagining this?
Of course, you are, you’re tired, and talking to yourself.
“No, thank you, I should get to bed, too.
“You could sleep here. There’s more than enough room for both of us.” Like the rest of the guest rooms, he had a king-sized bed, although it was barely long enough for his seven-foot frame. “I promise, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”
“I’m surprised, you didn’t bring someone home with you.”
Over the past few weeks, Molly had watched him sneak up the stairs with a variety of young women, each one prettier than the last. Every now, and then, he took two or three at a time. From Molly’s informal accounting, she thought he never slept with the same woman twice.
Yuck. The man was a walking petri dish. As Ivy would say, Blaze, is a ladies man who leads a life of wine, women, and thong.
I mean, song. Ugh.
“I haven’t, for the past few nights.”
“Why not?”
Blaze glanced away. “Perhaps I’ve grown bored with the local cuisine.”
Gross. “You consider women cuisine?”
Blaze ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, the comment came out wrong.”
Molly doubted it.
She wasn’t an expert on human behavior, by any means, but she got the distinct impression, Blaze was lying. But why would he bother? And what was he fibbing about, anyway?
“What do you say?”
“No, thank you.”
His face fell. “Why don’t you like me? I don’t understand, women adore me.”
Molly didn’t know what to say. He actually seemed sincere, which was a change, but it didn’t sway her. For the most part, Blaze put on a show, charming people, flirting, as though his entire life were one big performance, but Molly didn’t want to play along.
“You’re not my type.”
“Then what is your type, as you put it?” His eyes turned into slits. “You don’t fancy one of my brothers, do you?”
“No, of course not. I’m more interested in my career than men, for now anyway.”
“It sounds dull.”
Rude.
“It isn’t.” There’s something to be said for predictability.
“In my view, life should be about more than duty or obligation, it should be about pleasure, joy. Tell me, Molly, what makes you happy?”
Stunned, Molly could only stand there looking at him. She had no idea how to answer the question, which was troubling.
“Um, I…”
“Know what I think?”
She sighed. “Tell me.”
“I think you need a disruption, a bad influence, a man who can show you the true meaning of the word bliss. Have you ever been blissful?”
“No.” She’d been happy, content, but those terms sounded lukewarm, in comparison.
“A ha!” His smile was wicked, tempting. “You need your feathers ruffled, dove.”