A Little Too Hot

Chapter Twenty-Nine

ALL THE BLOOD rushes out of my head and I feel suddenly dizzy.

I set my coffee down and pull out the contents of the envelope as if it might bite me. It’s not flowery, and it doesn’t smell like roses or anything. It’s actually pretty classy—parchment-looking paper with a swatch of antique lace in one corner. But I can’t help the way my stomach clamps at the words written in a simple slant across the front.

Alexandra Elizabeth Banks and Trenton James Sorenson request the honor of your presence at their nuptial

June twenty-ninth is the date. Trent is marrying Lexie in two weeks.

There’s a folded note, and I see Lexie’s neat script through the thin paper, but I’m not ready to read it just yet.

I toss the whole thing on the table and pick up my coffee, taking a long sip.

“That bad?”

I look up at Cooper. “Yes.”

He nods slowly. “You know what helps with stuff like that?”

“Whiskey?”

He barks out a laugh. “That, for sure.” He flips the remote off the coffee table and unmutes the TV. “But this too. Nothing like watching guys in tights beat the crap out of each other to help you forget everything else.”

I settle deeper into the sofa and hope he doesn’t notice my cringe. There’s a reason I never watch this.

Cooper spends the next two hours giving running commentary of each staged match, and, despite the coffee, I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.

“Yeah!” he shouts, with a pound of his fist on the arm of the chair, jarring me awake. “Finally a good match! This guy’s a legend.”

I look at the TV and throw up a little in my mouth. “Yeah. In his own mind.”

Cooper cuts me a glance. “What do you know about the Butcher?”

“Not as much as I should, considering he’s my father.”

His eyes go wide and he springs out of his seat. “You’re telling me Butch ‘the Butcher’ Rupert is your father?”

I shrug. “That’s what I’ve been led to believe, though I’ve never seen him anywhere but on TV.” Mom told me they got married too young and divorced before I was born. I guess he never really wanted anything to do with me.

He drops back into his seat, stunned, and pauses the TiVo just as dear old dad is jumping the ropes on his way into the ring. “The Butcher?” he repeats. “Your dad is seriously the Butcher?”

I close my eyes, hoping my face isn’t as red as I think it is. “I don’t admit that to many people.”

“Why not? He’s a legend.”

I try to rub the red out of my cheeks and look at him. “He’s forty-three and still struts around the wrestling ring on national television wearing nothing but a tiny pair of red spandex and fake blood. It’s humiliating.”

He looks at me for a long minute, then a grin breaks over his face. “I can see the resemblance.”

I glare at him and stand up. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Forget Jezebel. I’m going to call you Pork Chop,” he calls just as I slam my door. Hard.

IT’S BEEN FIVE days. When I ask Cooper about Blake, all he’ll say is he’ll be back when he’s ready. And every time he says it, I see the condemnation in his eyes.

I’ve spent most of my time in my room to avoid that look.

It’s late afternoon when I finally come out in a T-shirt and shorts over my swimsuit. I head for the kitchen and find a tub of strawberries in the fridge, which I inhale before heading downstairs.

Cooper is at the pool table, chalking his cue. “Up for a game of eight ball, Pork Chop?” he asks, lifting his cue as if toasting me.

“No, thanks,” I say, heading toward the French doors. “I’ll be down at the pool.”

He nods as he leans over the table to take his shot. “Don’t drown or anything. The missus and I are saving up for a trip. Can’t afford to get suspended.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, ducking out the door.

When I reach the pool, I sit on the stairs, skimming my fingers over the surface. I can’t forget the look on Blake’s face as he laid me here and kissed me. I can’t forget the feel of his mouth and his hands working their magic over my body. I can’t forget how he took me to climax right through our swimsuits.

And I don’t want to.

I won’t let myself believe it’s over . . . whatever we were starting.

I swim, but it doesn’t ease the ache in my heart. An hour later I pull my waterlogged body out of the pool and bake in the last of the evening sun until I’m dry, then head back into the house.

“. . . could stay with her,” I hear Nichols say as I’m cresting the stairs across from my room.

“Navarro’s not going to go for that,” Cooper answers. “Not in your . . . condition.”

“I’ve got another few months before the baby’s due. We’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, Christine. I’ve got orders . . . as much as the missus hates them.”

I step into the room and they both turn to look at me from where they’re sitting on the sofa.

“Hope you’re hungry, Jez,” Cooper says through a grin. “Nichols brought enough pizza to feed an army.”

“Um . . . yeah. Just let me change.” I duck into my room and slip on a pair of jeans and a tank before heading back to the living room. I want to ask if either of them knows where Blake is. Did he go home to L.A.? To his fiancée? But I bite my tongue. I’m not supposed to care, and I don’t want another lecture from Cooper.

I grab a plate from the cupboard and a Coke from the fridge and sit in the armchair.

Nichols pushes the stack of three pizza boxes toward me.

“What? No french fries?” I say with a grin.

She shakes her head. “The baby’s over them. Now he wants pepperoni pizza.”

When I open the top box, I see it is indeed pepperoni. And it’s mostly gone, which means they didn’t wait for me. I pull a slice onto my plate.

“There’s cheese and ‘the works’ in the other boxes. I didn’t know what you like,” she tells me.

“This is fine,” I say, lifting my slice.

“Your personal chef will be back tomorrow,” Cooper says, and my heart skips.

“Blake?” I’m embarrassed when my voice comes out squeaky.

He fixes me in his scowl. “Unless you have someone else who cooks for you?”

“He’s . . . okay?”

He nods. “He called while you were playing Malibu Barbie,” he says with a jut of his chin at the window. “There are some things happening in the case, so he’s at the office, but he said he’d explain everything when he sees you tomorrow.”

The knot in my chest eases. Blake is coming home. I didn’t scare him off.

I sink into the chair and focus all my attention on my pizza slice, because otherwise I’m going to get up and do a happy dance around the room. And I don’t want to have to explain that to Cooper.