Bonds Of The Heart (7 page)

              “Must be a belt issue.”

              Erika snapped her eyes open and stared into Blake’s gray gaze. “You.”

              Blake nodded. “Me. I’ll give you a ride home.” He opened her door for her.

              “I can wait for my jeep to cool, thank you very much.”

              “It’s beyond cooling, Erika. It has to be towed now.”

              “How would you know?”

              This time he cocked that brow of his again like he had that morning. “I do own a garage, remember?”

              Erika’s frustration and anger had never been stronger, if she had a wall nearby she probably could have put her tiny fist through it. This man was getting on her nerves. Now she was left to accept a ride back home with the man who made her uneasy from his arrogance and turned on at the same time. She gathered her bag, ignored his offered hand, rolled up her windows, and locked up her Jeep.

              Blake raised his brows when she locked the doors. It was a small enough town that no one locked their doors, let alone their cars. With a shrug, Blake followed a step behind her as he watched Erika walk to his brother’s truck. He didn’t bother to help her in after the last time he had tried with the tow truck. And if he touched her again, like he had at the garage, he might not be able to draw himself away from her. He saddled into the driver’s seat and waited.

              Erika opened the door and glanced around the old truck.

              Cowboy boots sat on the floor with a half empty bottle of a sports drink. In the back of the seats was a folded
usmc
shirt faded from the sun. The dirty old ball cap on the dash, not to mention the seats, probably hadn’t been cleaned in years.
Guess he doesn’t like cleaning
. Taking a deep breath, Erika climbed in.

              Shifting the truck into gear, Blake pulled out onto the street without a word. He didn’t speak; instead he cranked up the country station, which blared with some Tim McGraw tune. She was grateful for the lack of conversation. If she had to speak she’d probably bite his head off. She just stared out the window. Once she was home, she’d take a shower, eat whatever leftovers her mother had put out for her and start on that manuscript. She was so caught in her own thoughts, it took her a bit to realize they weren’t heading to her house.

              “Where are we going? This isn’t the way to my house.”

              “We’re going to mine.”

              “Why?”

              “So I can change before we go out to dinner.” She snapped her head around so fast Blake was surprised it didn’t fly off and hit him square between the eyes.

              “I told you I was busy.”

              “Yeah, you said.” He pulled into the driveway. “I’ll be right back.”

              Blake took the keys from the ignition as he exited the truck. For the second time that day, he left her annoyed and unable to fight back.
Well
, Erika thought,
when he gets back he’ll get what’s coming to him
. She folded her arms across her chest in a huff and turned away from the house. She didn’t notice the dog tags hanging from the rearview mirror.

              She smelled like vanilla, Blake thought as he changed out of his work jeans for a clean pair. Dragging a clean shirt over his head, he laughed at the anger in her eyes as he left her sitting in the truck. He’d wanted a taste of her since that first day he helped her with her Jeep in the rain, yet he still couldn’t figure out why.
Just a taste, one kiss.
If things went as planned he’d have that taste and then be satisfied, and let it—and Erika—go. He had wondered what she tasted like, if she tasted like the vanilla perfume she wore—sweet and soft. Or perhaps she was all spice to match her stubborn personality.             

              When Blake finally returned to the truck, Erika made no movement to acknowledge him. She’d be silent the entire night. If Blake wanted her company, he’d get it on her terms.

              “Do you want to change before we go?”

              Narrowing her eyes at her reflection in the glass, she didn’t want to answer him. “No.”

              “Suit yourself.” He shrugged and placed the key in the ignition.

              Rolling her eyes, she turned to him. “Where are you taking me?”

              “Out to dinner.”

              He had changed into clean jeans, boots, and an oxford dress shirt that didn’t fit the small town. She sat in the dirty truck in barely-there shorts, a too snug t-shirt, and an old hoodie. “And you won’t tell me where?”

              “You like Italian?”

              Erika didn’t want to admit to him that she loved Italian because her father would take her and her mom out every Sunday for large helpings of spaghetti and meatballs since she was a little girl. It was part of her plan to surprise her dad when he returned.
But he never did
. “It’s okay.”

              “Good. You still don’t want to change?” He gave her another chance, though he’d enjoy seeing her sashay around anywhere in those shorts.

              “I guess I have no choice, do I?”

              Blake leaned in so that they were inches apart. “You always have a choice, Erika.”

              The closeness didn’t scare her. The intense look in Blake’s eyes didn’t frighten her. Not even the way her name sounded on his lips. What terrified her were the feelings they stirred inside of her. The breath she didn’t know she was holding released slowly without a sound. She tried to get her heart to slow. She struggled to find words. Her mouth was too dry. With just a few words, he had managed to get under her skin. There was no way she could let him stay there.

              By the time they reached her house, she had managed to regain some of her senses. Blake pulled into the drive and parked the truck. Unsure if she would invite him in, he stayed where he was.

              “I’d invite you in but—”

              “Blake! Oh, Blake, come on in. It’s good to see you again,” Brianne called from the porch.

              Blake leaned over and opened Erika’s door. He smirked, knowing she wasn’t happy at all about her mom inviting him. “Looks like the invite’s already been extended.”

              The closeness had her blood pumping, and the slight touch as his arm brushed against hers had her skin tingling. “Looks like.” Her voice was just a little too breathy. She got out of the truck and headed toward the house, Blake behind her.

              “Hello, Mrs. Gibbons.” He greeted her mother with a small, warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

              “How are you? How’s your mom and dad?”

              “They’re doing good.”

              “Good, good. Did your mom enjoy the pie?”

              “I think my mom would say I enjoyed it more.” He patted his stomach and Mrs. Gibbons laughed.

              “Where’s your Jeep?” Brianne frowned and turned to her daughter.

              “It’s…It overheated. Blake was going to help me get it back to the shop. I just needed to drop these papers off for work.” She patted her bag and cruised around the truth.

              “You should let Blake look at it. Now come on in.” Brianne gestured with her hand, expecting them to follow.

Eight

***

Blake surveyed the small living room. Cozy. An old couch sat against the front wall just under the picture window. An arm chair sat in the corner that looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. An old TV sat in the back of the room straight out of the 1980’s, dial knob and all. Books upon books filled one wall. Other walls held photographs. A small hallway led to the kitchen, probably, and maybe a dining room. A small staircase to the right led to the second level of the small house.

              “Let me get you something to drink,” Brianne said. She headed to the kitchen without a glance back.

              “I guess I should go change,” Erika said. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” She took her time heading upstairs trying to give him the impression that she wasn’t in any rush to have dinner with him, but decided to change quickly so that Blake didn’t have much time to get familiar with her family.

              Blake walked to the wall of books first. There were novels and classics mixed in with no sense of order. William Shakespeare, Michael Crichton, Edgar Allen Poe, Danielle Steele, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle mixed with dictionaries, encyclopedias, and thesauruses. Some shelves held trinkets and bric-a-bracs. The triangle of white stars on a blue field stared back at Blake as his eyes found the wooden case. It was the same as the one in his house. Blake fought back visions of his brother and reminded himself that he was in someone else’s home.

              Moving around the room, he fixed his eyes on the family photographs. A picture of Erika as a baby swaddled in the hospital blanket was the first photo to catch his eyes. Another of a young Erika as a toddler playing with the pots and pans in the kitchen. There were even photos of her as a teenager, and a graduation photo he supposed was from college. A family photo, that looked as if was taken only a few years ago, held his gaze. He had met her mother, but he didn’t need to wonder where her father was as the crisp dress blues uniform gave it away.

              “Here you are, Blake.” Brianne set glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea on the small coffee table behind him. “Oh, that was the day Erika went off to California. She had gotten what she called the opportunity of a lifetime at some prominent publishing house. We were so proud of her. She was just two years out of college.” Brianne stared at the photo of a young Erika, clad in daisy dukes and a tank top, standing next to her Jeep with a small compact U-Haul cabin behind it. She had a face-splitting grin that had Blake wondering if Erika ever grinned like that again.

              Brianne sighed. “She always followed her heart. Most of these books are hers. She loves to read. Can’t pull her away long enough from one to get a full sentence out of her. Or at least you couldn’t before…”

              At the trailing of her words, Blake placed his hand on her shoulder. “I know the feeling.”

              Brianne knew he had lost someone too. Blake’s mother often said how he would brood over the loss in his brother’s old truck, the same one now parked in her driveway.

              “We should get going. It will be dark soon.” Erika descended the stairs in sneakers, simple jeans, and oversized t-shirt with her hair pulled back. She swam in the shirt, Blake thought, yet it let his imagination wonder just what was under it.

              “Why don’t you stay for dinner, Blake? You two can get the Jeep tomorrow. I’ve made lasagna anyway.”

              Blake grinned slightly and pinned Erika with his eyes. “I do like Italian,” he said.

              Erika could get through one dinner. And it would be on her territory. Then as soon as they were done, she could make sure he left, cutting the evening short. Erika narrowed her eyes at Blake. She relaxed before turning to her mother’s gaze which told her to behave herself like only a mother could do. “Okay,” she conceded.

              “Great. It will be ready in just a few minutes. You two sit. I’ll just go check on it.” Brianne hurried out of the room. She silently prayed to her husband. “Oh, Hank, help them find their way.”

              Blake relaxed into the middle of the couch. He picked up the sweet tea with the same hand that had reached out to Erika that morning. Because there was nowhere else to sit—she still couldn’t bring herself to sit in her dad’s old chair—she made herself as small as possible and clung to the corner of the couch. She didn’t reach for her glass, though her mouth was still dry. If she did, she would have had to reach over Blake and that was
not
going to happen.

              “Thirsty?” he asked. His voice just as low and quiet as it had been when he'd rescued her from the road earlier.

             
Parched, like the damn Sahara
. “No.”

              “Your mom makes some of the best sweet tea around.” He gulped down almost half the glass.

              “She does.”

              “I’m sorry.”

              Erika turned her head to Blake.

              “For your loss.” He gestured to the flag on the shelves.

              Erika looked at the flag briefly before turning away. “Thank you,” she whispered. She absently placed a hand over the dog tags that fell above her heart under her shirt.

              “Was it recent?”

              “Yes.”

              Blake nodded. Without thinking he placed his hand over hers.

              She jolted, then relaxed at the comfort his touch brought. Just as easily, she turned her hand in his and squeezed.

              “Come on in while it’s hot,” her mother called from another room. Erika jerked her hand from Blake’s. Blake frowned.

              She grasped at her mother’s call like a lifeline and tried not to think of his sympathy, his touch, or what it made her feel. “I hope you like cheese. Mom overdoes it.” She spoke as calmly as she could, though her heartbeat felt like that of a nun. And how lame was she?
I hope you like cheese.
If she could face-palm herself right now without looking ridiculous, she would.