Page 19 of Wild Embers
I nudge him with my elbow. “Did you know she was back in town?”
“I saw her yesterday at Main Street Diner,” Santiago answers simply.
“Shit,” I return, shaking my head. “Does Walk know?”
Santiago shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”
“We should tell him.” I rub my hand over my face, already exhausted from the conversation to come.
Santiago grabs my shoulder, turning me to face him. “We will, but first…”
He grabs my face, bringing his mouth to mine as he backs me up against the doorframe. My hands find his waist, pulling him in closer. Our lips move together in a motion we’ve done together hundreds of times. Santiago’s hat falls off his head as he leans into me further. My tongue swipes into his mouth, tasting him.
When Santiago comes up for air, I ask, “What was that for?”
“I saw the way you were looking at her.”
I pull my head back a few more inches. “So? You were, too.”
Angling his head, Santiago replies, “I’m saying that we should probably talk about it.”
I don’t know why, but I’m not ready.
Santiago has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We were barely adults when we discovered that wewanted to explore more than friendship, but we also realized we were okay with having relationships and intimacy outside of the two of us.
Not wanting to talk about Blake with him doesn’t make sense to me. Then again, I'm not ready to face the facts about how I just felt about Blake to myself either.
Stepping to the side and breaking Santiago’s hold, I reach for my cell phone on the counter. “Let’s call Walk. I need to give him an update on the dead body in the other room anyway.”
Santiago is leaningagainst the sink as I finish up collecting evidence when Walker finally arrives.
“What do you have for me?” Walker asks, stopping on the other side of the metal slab from where I stand.
Santiago jumps in before I can answer. “First things first, Blake is back.”
Walker purses his lips, and his brows scrunch together. “Blake who?”
His expression feels too practiced.
What’s with the act?
Santiago’s head rears back in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘Blake who?’ Do you know another Blake?” He rises from his perch and moves to stand at the head of the slab.
“Blake Shelton.” Walker shrugs.
Santiago scoffs. “When has Blake Shelton ever been to Evergreen Falls?” When Walker doesn’t have a retort, Santiago quips, “That’s what I thought.”
He knows exactly which Blake we’re talking about. Normally, I’m a patient man, but we don’t have time for whatever has him acting like this.
“Blake Jennings, you jackass,” I deadpan.
Walker doesn’t look the least bit surprised.
“You already knew,” I accuse him. When he doesn’t deny it, I know I’m right. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Walker fidgets with the radio on his belt as he confesses, “She may have been the first on the scene.”
I don’t like the way he said that. The insinuation is almost offensive.
