Chapter Eighteen

ETHAN HEARD THE FRONT door swish open and absently wondered who in his right mind would need to visit a flower shop on a rainy weekday afternoon. Hartland was always exceptionally colder than most of the mainland, and rain made it more so.

Must be a miserable bastard , Ethan thought as he came to his feet, to have to brave this kind of weather and give someone flowers.

Footsteps headed his way, and as he turned to greet the customer - he ended up blinking in surprise instead. "Thorn?"

His older brother only grunted as he tossed himself on one of the vacant stools next to the counter.

Ethan glanced outside and saw no signs of Thornton's new girlfriend. "Trouble in paradise?"

Thornton grunted again, and Ethan's brows shot up. "There's trouble then?" he asked in surprise. Even if only a fraction of the gossip coming out from the local rumor mills was true, he would've expected Thornton and Blake to still be too busy fucking to have any time to fight.

"Blake's gone down to the city." Before Ethan could ask what for, his older brother then added, "To meet with Curt Teller."

Ethan gave up any pretense of working at that and set aside the bunch of flowers he had been arranging for a bouquet. "Let's head back to the kitchen."

"You're still open," Thornton felt obliged to remind his brother.

"It's Hartland," the younger man dismissed. "We don't get robbed here, and even if we do get the stray burglar or two, they'll find out soon enough we're no ordinary small town."

"Touché," Thornton acknowledged, remembering the multimillion-dollar security system Hartland Initiative had invested in. It wasn't the type that one could see easily, but it would work when it was needed to work.

"So..." Ethan placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of his brother. "About Ms. Golding meeting her very dear and handsome childhood friend—-"

"Fuck you."

Ethan smirked at the rare note of irritation in Thornton's tone. "Did she tell you that or did you find out about it on your own?"

"She told me."

"And you didn't put up a fuss," he guessed slyly. "Even if you wanted to. Because if you did, you knew it would make you look immature and unreasonably jealous—-"

"Fuck you."

Ethan threw his head back with a laugh.

"It's not fucking funny."

"Just relax, man," Ethan said with a careless shrug. "This is Blake we're talking about, remember? The girl who can't help but still see you as perfect no matter how much we try to convince her otherwise?"

Silence.

Ethan put his own mug down, just the slightest bit discomfited now. "What's really bugging you?" he asked finally. "Because I think we both know Blake can be trusted, and—-"

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Ethan choked on his coffee.

"We've never spoken about our...feelings."

Ethan kept choking. Was this fucking happening for real? His brother, a man whose range of emotions could only be from zero (frowning) to point five (not smiling), was actually talking about marriage and feelings?

"I'm sorry, Thorn," Ethan said when he finally recovered from his shock. "You've dropped a bomb back there, but it's great news..." His voice trailed off when he saw the shuttered look on his brother's face. "I mean, it is. Right?"

"I'm not rushing things," Thornton said flatly.

"Uh, yeah." Ethan was perplexed. 'You don't have to tell me that. You're not the type—-"

"And Blake?"

"And Blake what?"

"Do you think she's the type?"

THORNTON CHECKED HIS watch. Ten-fifteen in the evening. She was supposed to be here by dinner, dammit. It wasn't like her to be late, and even more unlike Blake was her not sending a message to explain the delay. The only reason he wasn't calling the police now was because he had incognito bodyguards tailing Blake from the moment he realized his attraction to her.

They had kept him updated throughout the day, and it was through them he found out that she and Teller had finished talking even before dinner. After that, she had stayed with her grandmother...and stopped contacting him since then.

What the hell was happening?

He took his phone out and backread on all the messages they had exchanged throughout the day.

Blake : Missing you already.

Blake : Thorn! I said I'm missing you already.

Thornton : You just got inside the car.

Blake: So?

Thornton : I can still see you. You're still in our driveway.

Blake : I see what you did there.

Thornton : Speaking logically?

Blake : You called it our driveway to distract me.

Thornton : I wasn't trying to distract you.

Blake : But it's not working.

Thornton : I just said I wasn't trying anything.

Blake : So please just say it.

Blake : Thorn?

Blake : Hello?

Blake : I'm driving away now.

Blake: You can't see me now.

Blake : Can you say it now?

Thornton : Don't drive and text.

Thornton : And I miss you.

Just thinking about their earlier text conversation almost had him smiling. It had been silly as hell, but he had enjoyed it. Like he had told her last night, she had fucked him up well and good, and well...he was hoping she would keep at it for the rest of their lives—-

A sound coming from the outside, almost like someone making a run for it, had Thornton swiftly stepping out just in time to see Blake rushing inside her place.

"Blake—-"

But she didn't even turn her head, and the door slammed shut behind her.

What the fuck?

He knocked on her door.

"Blake?"

He knocked again and again.

"Blake?"

He could feel his blood turning cold, could feel the urge to smash the door down growing stronger inside of him. Something...wasn't right. He could feel it in his bones. He had these instincts ever since he had gone to war, and his instincts had never been wrong.

"Blake?"

He fought to keep his voice level. Kept knocking even when the skin on his knuckles started to wear off and his flesh began to sting.

"Blake."

"Baby."

"Tell me what's wrong."