Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

MOLLY

First kisses are notoriously unpredictable. Some are so shockingly bad you know you're never going to kiss that person again; some are nice; and then there are the ones that fill you with every toe-curling emotion under the sun. Kissing Blake falls into the last category.

I've been attracted to him since I first laid eyes on him. And while I'm sure it would have been great had we kissed right there at the train station, the days of getting to know each other have really sweetened the experience.

The hard thing has been that even when I thought Blake wasn't interested in me, I loved spending time with him. So much so that I might have tried to stay friends with him just so I didn't miss out on his occasional presence in my life. Although, I'm pretty sure the friendship angle wouldn't have lasted. I couldn't have watched him date other women.

Having said that, somehow things changed tonight. I don't know what happened that made Blake realize he could work and have a social life, but whatever it was, I'm grateful for it.

I know something shifted in me after spending the day with Ben's family. Life can be a sweet journey, and it can be a harrowing one. Today reminded me that when it's sweet, you have to live in the moment and enjoy it to the best of your ability.

All these crazy thoughts are running through my head while Blake is kissing me. His lips are so soft and demanding that I don't ever want this contact to end. I'm about to let myself completely drift away into fantasy land when Blake tentatively lifts his head far enough to break contact. I immediately groan at the absence of him.

"Wow," he says.

"Wow, what?" I want to hear him say the words.

"Just wow," he repeats.

"You never know how first kisses are going to be, do you?"

He shakes his head. "I didn't have any doubt that if you ever let me kiss you it would be one of the best of my life."

Awareness floods every corner of my body. The air between us suddenly feels alive, like it's part of a forcefield holding us together. "You've thought of kissing me …" I want to hear more about this.

"I've thought of little else since the night we met."

"I don't believe you." I remind him, "You were very dismissive of me that night."

His arms are still around me, and the heat of him is nearly my undoing. "I saved you from falling on your face."

"That's true," I tell him, "but once we got into the car to come to the lodge, you barely looked at me."

"I was in work mode." He lowers his eyes to meet mine, and I'm immediately drawn into their green depths. "You know what they say, don't you?"

"All work and no play makes Blake a dull boy?" I guess.

"I was thinking more along the lines of not playing around where you work, but I like yours better." He runs his hands down my arms before gently caressing his fingertips across mine. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

I would walk to Australia with this man. I'd walk to the moon with him. But I can't seem to open my mouth and tell him that, so I merely nod my head.

As we move toward the door, Trina stops us. "I saw that," she announces.

My face heats up in what must be the mother of all blushes. "It seems that Blake might like me as more than a friend, after all," I tell her.

Blake declares, "Faulty starter, my foot."

Smiling, Trina tells him, "Remember, the thing with faulty starters is they can be fixed. Looks like you took yours to the shop."

Car metaphors really aren't my thing, but I think Trina nailed this one. I don't know why Blake didn't think he could date while getting tips for his coffee shop, but I'm glad he figured it out.

"I appreciate you asking me to join your event," I tell Trina. "I have some ideas for you about the shop as well as some other things."

"Let's talk about that tomorrow," she says. "For now, go and enjoy your night."

Blake and I walk out of the ballroom hand in hand. He leads me toward the great room where there are two vacant chairs next to the fire. Once we're situated, he says, "This is the most romantic environment I can imagine."

I look around at the giant Christmas tree and the wreath hanging over the fireplace. There are six stockings suspended from the massive wooden hearth. "My sister teased me about coming here and meeting a lumberjack."

"So that's where the whole lumberjack thing came from. I must confess, I'm a little relieved that's not your type."

"Who says that's not my type?" I bat my eyes flirtatiously at him.

"It had better not be." He sounds jealous, and I love it.

"What do you think my type should be?"

He closes his eyes like he's deep in thought before opening them again. "I was thinking you need a guy who knows how to make a great cup of coffee."

"Maybe one who writes dystopian love stories on the side."

He looks briefly confused before saying, "I don't think it matters what he does for a living so long as he's sitting right here with you."

Reaching out, I take Blake's hand in mine. "Good thing the guy I'm sitting with does both."

He hesitantly asks, "What if I'm not really writing a novel?"

"Why would you have said you were if you weren't?"

"I told you before that my goal was to be here incognito."

"By lying to people?"

"I like to think of it as more of an embellishment," he says. "The truth is that I like to write but I haven't done it a lot lately."

"If you like to write, then you should write," I tell him. "I've recently realized that life is too short not to follow your heart in all things."

Blake laces his fingers through mine. "I've come to the same conclusion." After a beat, he adds, "My mom likes to remind me there aren't endless chances to meet your person."

"I think she's right," I tell him. "But at the same time, you can't force yourself to make it work with someone you know isn't right."

"Like Kyle for you," he says.

"Like Kyle," I agree.

The fire makes a loud popping sound that momentarily breaks into the bubble of our conversation. Blake points to a loveseat that a couple just vacated. "Why don't we go sit over there?"

Standing up, he leads me over to our new perch. As soon as we sit down, he puts his arm around my shoulder which makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the whole world.

Sounding nervous, Blake says, "I think Kyle is planning on making another play for you."

"He already did."

Leaning to the side so that he breaks contact between our bodies, he implores, "Why would you do that? You know you deserve better." Before I can put his mind at ease that I'm not at all interested, he continues, "Once a cheater always a cheater."

"Relax, Blake." Then I come clean. "I let Kyle think there might be a chance because I was trying to make someone else jealous."

His eyes widen as realization hits. "You were trying to make me jealous?"

"I was," I confess. "But I was starting to think it wasn't working."

"I didn't want to lie to you, Molly," Blake says. "I didn't want to start anything based on a lie."

"It's a good thing you told me the truth then, isn't it?" Blake's shoulders remain tense like there's something else he hasn't told me. "You have told me the truth, haven't you?"

"I've told you what I can," he says cryptically.

"Blake, you're making me anxious. Are you in the witness relocation plan or something?" I joke. At least I hope it's a joke.

Changing the subject, he says, "I'm more in the Los Angeles recovery plan."

Not wanting to ruin the magic of the night by asking more about what he's not telling me, I ask, "How long did you live there again?"

"Ten years."

"I go out there once or twice a year to work for hotel chains opening a new branch. It always seems nice, if not a little unrealistic. You know what I mean?"

"Oh, I know. LA is the land of illusion. Everyone tries to sell you on an image, and reality rarely comes into play."

"I prefer the Midwest where you know what you're getting," I tell him.

He clears his throat nervously. "I wonder what my life would have been like had I never moved out there."

"That's funny," I tell him. "I've always wondered what my life would have been like had I left Chicago after college and gone somewhere else. "

"Do you think we would have ever crossed paths had either of us done those things?" he asks.

"I think it depends."

"On what?"

Turning so that I'm fully facing him, I answer, "On whether or not we're each other's person."

The look Blake gives me ricochets through my body like I've taken a direct hit from a lightning bolt. The hairs on my arms stand at attention and prickles of electricity stab at my skin. "The only thing that truly matters," he says, "is what's right here in front of us."

Lowering his head to mine, he once again captures my mouth in the sweetest kiss imaginable. I force myself to not worry that there's something he's not telling me. In fact, I want time to stop right now so that I can ride the wave of possibility and see if it doesn't lead exactly to where I hope it will.