The Bridge to a Better Life (Dare Valley, #8)

They were heading somewhere. Even she could no longer deny it.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she said, which was the truth. But she was already failing at that. “He’s been through so much lately. And I don’t want to be hurt anymore.”

He didn’t say anything. Simply reached out and took her hand. The silence made her edgy. Why wasn’t he saying some empty platitude or trying to give her advice? Because he was one smart cookie. He knew there was no good advice in this situation. What had Andy said? She and Blake would have to find the way together.

“If you need to get out of the house—or cook up a feast—you’re always welcome at our place. You know that, right?”

She squeezed his hand and released it. “Yeah. Thanks, Terrance.”

“Are you still okay to go to Denver tomorrow for the client meeting? I can take it if you’d rather stay closer to home.”

Getting out of town sounded like a good idea. She might have to force herself to return. “I still want to take it. In fact, I’m going to text my sisters to see if they’ll meet me for lunch.” They’d be upset if they found out she’d come to town without calling. Besides, if she met them on their own turf, it might help them all get beyond the unease Blake’s return had caused.

“Sounds like a good plan.” His wink was mischievous, the kind Chef T gave the cameras during the filming of his TV show. “Catch you later, Hale.”

When he left, she texted her sisters immediately about meeting her at TAG, one of their favorite restaurants. They both instantly responded in the affirmative. She was glad. This at least was something she could control.

After making the reservation, she just sat there staring at her ceiling, thinking about Blake, about his body, about the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever she came into the room. She kicked her shoes off under her desk and vowed to do some work. Of course, she fired up social media instead and clenched her mouse as she clicked on pictures of her plastered against Blake at Hairy’s, of her gazing up at him with adoration as he bundled her into his car.

By the time she headed home at the end of the day, she realized she was feeling like one of her favorite soufflés: airy with anticipation, but liable to fall flat if she wasn’t handled carefully. Blake texted her shortly after she walked in the door.

Holler when you’re ready. Your carriage awaits.

He was being sweet again. She changed into her workout clothes and yanked on the laces of her running shoes, her mind trying to summon up all the reasons this was a bad idea. When she was ready, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Thought about adding a colored lip gloss. Great. She was thinking about putting on makeup to work out.

Ready on this end, she texted back.

His text was instantaneous. She could almost see him holding his phone, waiting for her cue.

See you in a sec.

When he pulled into her driveway, he didn’t wait for her to get in the car. No, he put it in gear and hopped out. Touchdown ran over to him and was immediately swept into a hug before being set back down. Then Blake turned to face her.

The afternoon sunlight reflected off his sandy brown hair, spinning it to gold. Her breath caught in her chest. His powerful biceps strained under his bright blue workout shirt. The wind blew down the canyon and pressed that shirt to his abs, giving her a view of the ridges there. Her eyes lowered—she couldn’t help it. His legs bulged with power as he strode with purpose toward her, that damned light in his eyes shining bright from seeing her. Like it always did.

He stopped in front of her and gave her a killer grin, the kind that made her go weak in the knees. “Hey! How was your day?”

How many times had he asked her that very question? Thousands? And he didn’t say it in that throwaway manner people did—he meant it. He wanted to know all the details—the highs, the lows, the in betweens.

He shifted on his feet when she didn’t reply, and she saw him gulp, like he suspected she was retreating from him again. His hand reached out into the space between them. She jolted and took a step back. The light in his eyes faded, his smile dimming like a cloud had covered the sun.

“It’s only a run, Natalie.”

She knew he had intentionally chosen not to use her nickname.

“People are talking about us all over town,” she said, even though that wasn’t why she was pulling away again. “And on social media too.” She wished she had the courage to mention his high school coaching offer, but she wasn’t that brave.

His face hardened. “Let them talk. It’s none of their damn business.”

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