Page 32 of The Beekeeper

It was official: Day one of our arrangement was a complete and utter disaster. Now what did we do?

Chapter 7

Blaze

“Here, I’ll get those.” I swiped my brother and Lou’s plates from the table, adding them to the stack of mine and Paisley’s.

“Uncle Wade, can we do our puzzle?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Wade answered just as I made it to the kitchen, a smile creeping onto my face. I was grateful my brother and my daughter had a good relationship—glad they had their own activities to bond over, like doing puzzles on the night Pais stayed with them every week.

It had taken a while for me to accept their help, but eventually Lou had worn me down—and the ever-growing pile of shit I had to get done, most of which was better done without Pais around. Especially the lawsuit stuff. I’d kept from her that her aunt was trying to take her from me. I didn’t know how to tell her, let alone what good it would do. Tonight, I should’ve spent time reviewing the statement Wade crafted to be filed with the court and served on Angela’s counsel regarding our sudden move, but when we got to my brother’s house, I couldn’t say goodbye at the door, and instead, asked Lou if there was room for one more.

There was always room for one more when it came to the Kinkade family, I’d learned over the last year. But I frowned when I saw there was already a fourth place setting at their dining table. Was it always here? Or did Lou know I’d want to stay? Did she know I’d want an escape from the house—from Harper after what happened two nights ago?

And if she did, then it was a miracle she put out a place setting and not a straitjacket.

I’d fucked up big time which wasn’t that off brand for Degenerate Blaze, but damn if fucking up didn’t hit harder when I actually cared about where my life was going and who was in it. Especially the woman who’d upended her world to provide shelter to mine.

For that alone, I deserved more than a slap. I deserved a goddamn kick in the nuts for what I’d said. I hadn’t been thinking clearly. I’d been exhausted. I’d been looking forward to that damn shower after bumping into Harper in her ass-hugging leggings and curve-hugging tank around every fucking corner. I wanted that shower because I needed some relief. And I’d been fist-around-my-cock deep in the memory of Harper licking honey off her fingers when I heard my daughter calling for me, the burn in my blood instantly turning to ice.

I’d climbed out of the shower with my balls so blue, they could’ve guest-starred in the Blue Man Group, and that was when I realized someone—realized she was in my room. And all I could think was worst case; in my life, there was only one reason a woman snuck into and hid in my bedroom (or trailer or building or on set): she was there because she wanted to shoot her shot with me. My assumption was stacked so high by my past baggage, it was no wonder I couldn’t see through it now.

And it was no wonder Harper had avoided me for the last two days. The early-morning escapes. The late evening returns. The way she holed up in her room, the door locked, by the time I was done putting Pais to bed.

I’d had no opportunity to apologize, like there were even words adequate enough for one. Maybe that, ultimately, was my punishment: not having to accept what an asshole I’d been but having to accept there was nothing I could do to make up for it.

“Here, I’ll dry,” Lou said as she joined me in the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Really, I’ve got it. You can go relax,” I tried to insist, selfishly wanting the few solitary minutes to scrub the dishes in silent penance like I could scrub away my guilt.

“I know you’ve got it, but I want to help you,” she said, but still came to the other side of the sink and picked up the towel.

We worked for a few minutes in silence. Unlike with some people, silence was never awkward around Lou. It was always peaceful. Comforting. Like she was always there to listen even if you had nothing to say.

“How’s the new living arrangement working out?”

I sloshed water onto myself by accident. “Shit.”

Lou took the plate from my hand, trading it for a towel without missing a beat. If she realized it was her question that threw me off, she didn’t let on.

“Pais loves it. She loves being out there, able to roam around and explore and see the bees all the time.”

“I bet,” my sister-in-law said with a smile. “And what about you?”

“I’m just glad for the privacy. For not having to wake up every morning and check out the windows to see if the paparazzi are parked outside. Or how I’m going to avoid them to go somewhere. It’s a relief.”

“Then why don’t you look more relieved?”

My jaw locked. Because I’d gravely insulted not only the woman I was attracted to, but the woman I was indebted to for helping me.

“We all just want to help, Blaze. It’s okay to let us,” Lou reminded me softly. “Harper, too.”

I balled the towel and set it on the counter, admitting roughly, “She shouldn’t help me. Not after…I made a mistake.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Blaze,” she offered, drying the last plate.

I chuffed out a breath. “Not sure this is a mistake she’ll let me correct.”