Page 22 of Because of Blake
“Blake, we live across the street.”
“Yeah, but it gives me an excuse to leave, too.”
As we enter the foyer and Blake ducks into the closet for our coats, Joanna appears, quite obviously drunk by the way she leans against the wall. “Maggie! You’re not leaving, are you?”
“Yes, the kids are tired. Time for bed.”
“Oh, yes. Well, thank you for coming.” She uses the wall as a brace to inch her way closer to me. “So, meet any nice men tonight?” She nudges me on the arm, a knowing look on her face.
“Oh, well, um–”
“Maggie, which coat is yours?” Blake pokes his head out of the closet. Joanna’s eyes grow so wide, I feel like her eyelids are going to peel back.
“Oh, it’s the brown one, there,” I say as I point. “What were you saying, Joanna?”
“Well. Um, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what?” I ask, fighting the smirk threatening to cross my lips.
“I didn’t realize you were–”
“Hey, Joanna.” Blake exits the closet with our coats. “Thanks for the invite. I’m going to leave with Maggie and the kids, then I need to let Oscar out.” He helps me into my coat and slips into his own. “Tell Mark I’ll hit him up for pool or something next weekend.”
We bid Joanna a good night and leave her standing in awe in the entryway. I’m sure I confused the hell out of her by being with Blake since I told her there was nothing between us. There still isn’t, but the idea of her wracking her brain to figure it out makes me chuckle.
“Mom, can you hurry up?” Sydney whines, as she stands, shivering in the cold.
“Oh, my gosh Syd, here.” I toss her the keys. “You two go on ahead.” I turn to Blake. “Sorry. I never knew a twelve-year-old could have so much attitude.”
“Already a teenager, huh?”
“Yes. I thought I’d have another few years.”
“She seems like a good kid, though,” Blake says, extending his arm in a gesture for me to walk first.
“Oh, she’s a great kid. Smart, clever. I’d even call her funny if it weren’t for the sarcasm.”
He chuckles, sending butterflies through me. I love the way he always asks about my children. Normally, if someone, especially a man, asks about my kids, I go into overprotective mother mode and assume the guy is a pedophile. I don’t feel that way with Blake. He seems genuinely interested, giving me his full attention, but checks in on my children, which makes me enjoy his company even more.
He stuffs his hands in his coat pockets, hunching his shoulders a bit. “Thank you for giving me an excuse to get out of there. You’re saving me from having to listen to drunk-ass Mark talk about politics. I hate that stuff.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for walking us home, though based on the expression on Joanna’s face, you and I are going to be the topic of the rumor mill.”
Blake laughs, deep and rich. “Yeah, and Joanna is good at that. But, I guess if there’s going to be rumors spread about me with someone, I’m glad it’s you.” He nudges me with his shoulder, and tilts his head to the side to look at me, those big, brown eyes softening in the moonlight.
I feel warmth rush to my face. “Blake,” I say, utterly embarrassed, but flattered. “Ditto.”
“You know, there’s a way to keep us from becoming a rumor?”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
“Let me take you to dinner.”
My breath catches in my throat. I’m silent as we reach my porch and I take the first step up, turning to face him. “Blake, you’re very sweet, and I’m flattered–”
His body goes rigid. “I feel a but coming on.”
“I don’t date.”