Page 13 of Blaze

“Don’t you worry.I’ll find someone to bring it up.”

My head is spinning.This is a mansion.Of course it has staff.But I’m flabbergasted.I wonder how many people work here.

Blaze turns toward a stairway I hadn’t noticed off the back of the kitchen and heads up the steps, holding me as if I weigh about five pounds.He’s extremely fit.It seems futile to complain since it’s not as if I could climb these stairs on my own.I’m kind of stuck accepting his hospitality for the time being.

I also get the feeling he told me that wild story in the car because he thinks he’s found a life partner in me.I should be freaking the fuck out at the idea.Part of me is.I mean, that’s just ludicrous.No one meets someone and falls for them that quickly.I’m not even in my right mind.I’m feverish, and I’ve been through a traumatic twenty-four hours.

It’s possible I’m misreading this man.I’m not even sure I care one way or the other.I feel connected to him.Irrational though that might be, I do.Perhaps it’s because he saved me.Maybe I would feel oddly attached to anyone who had carried me out of that ravine.

But I don’t think so.I think it’s Blaze.

He easily holds me with one hand under my butt while he opens a door, and then we’re inside a bedroom.It takes my breath away.It’s filled with antique furniture.Like a museum.There should be a rope across the doorway so that visitors can look in but not touch.

The rug in the middle of the large room is old, too, but Blaze walks on it as if it’s not an heirloom.It makes me wince, and I twist around to look at it again.

He chuckles.“What has you so flustered now?”

“That rug.It’s very old.You stepped on it.”

He laughs harder.“Baby, everything in this house is old.Ancient.We don’t even know the ages of most things.My cousin Dallas owned a pawn shop before he arrived.He knows antiques better than the rest of us.He’s slowly cataloging everything, but in the meantime, we live our lives.We can’t worry too much about every piece of furniture, rug, or knick-knack.”

“Please tell me nobody sleeps on that bed,” I say.We’re in the attached bathroom now.I can’t see it anymore, but I’d say it’s about seventy years old or more.There’s also evidence that this bathroom is being regularly used by someone.A man.Probably Blaze.The vanity has masculine deodorant, a razor, shaving cream, and a blue toothbrush.Is this his room?

Blaze carefully sits me on the toilet seat.He’s smirking.“Are you an antiques dealer?”

I wince before pursing my lips.I shouldn’t have spoken to him so rudely.He’s saving my ass, and I’m being a bitch.This isn’t my house.It’s none of my business whether or not the occupants use their furniture.

Blaze hesitates as he squats in front of me.He lifts my chin.“Vicky?”

I sigh and look away.“I’m not an antiques dealer,” I say truthfully.

“But you know about old stuff,” he deadpans.

“Yeah.”I inhale deeply.No harm in telling him a few things about me.“I have a degree in art history.Old things fascinate me.”

He grins broadly.“Isn’t that perfect.See?”

“See, what?”I’m confused again.

“It was Fate.I was meant to find you today and bring you here.You’ll be going from room to room, cataloging the contents of this monstrosity by the end of the week,” he teases.He is kidding, right?

I didn’t get to see much of the house since we entered through the back door and my savior carried me straight upstairs from the kitchen.But judging by the size of the mansion, it has to be filled with artifacts that would mesmerize me.I’m suddenly itching to see more.

Blaze rolls his eyes.“Don’t get any ideas.After a bath, you’re going to bed for three days minimum.No investigating.Trust me.This dilapidated structure we call home will still be here when you’re healed enough to investigate.”

“So bossy,” I mutter.

“You haven’t seen bossy yet, baby.You just wait.”He leans over to turn the water on and put the stopper in the bottom of the tub.After adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature, he turns back to me.

I’m still reeling from his weird comment.Does he mean that he’s usually bossier than I’ve witnessed?Or does he mean that the other men living here are even bossier than him?Both are possibly true.

He sets his hands on my thighs, being careful with the bruised one.“So here’s the deal.”

I stare at him, wonderingwhat now?

“I’m not willing to leave you in here alone.You’re exhausted and weak, and the only thing you’ve eaten since yesterday morning is a protein bar.”He holds my gaze.

Suddenly, I realize what he’s insinuating.“I’ll be fine.”