Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (6 page)

“You okay to drive?” Blake asked as they came
in step with her.

Damn heels
. “I walked,” she said,
swaying on her feet.

“You sure you can make it?” He took a hand
from around one skinny woman’s waist and reached for Danica’s arm
to steady her.

Danica’s heartbeat sped up. Goose bumps
rushed up her arms, prickling her nerves and sending fire through
her limbs. She looked into his smoldering eyes, his face inches
from hers.

Each blonde had a hand on his back, placing
claim.

“I’m good. Really. Thanks.”
Let me go or I
might kiss you. Where did that come from?

Blake took his hand back, then said in a
hushed, soothing voice, “Okay, but if you need me, I’m right
here.”

Oh yeah, I need you all right
. Danica
noticed that he didn’t put his arms back around the women. She
wanted to feel his hand on her again. She managed a nod, and he
walked away between the two blondes, leaving her alone.
What
else is new?

Outside, she looked up and down the street.
She’d been to Bar None a zillion times before, but tonight, too
many piña coladas had stolen her sense of direction. She stumbled
on her skyscraper heels and tumbled as she came off the curb,
landing on her palms, her butt aiming up at the darkened sky.

“That’s a great angle.”

Blake
. Danica pushed herself to her
feet. Her ankle screamed out in pain, and she fell down to her butt
on the side of the curb with an embarrassed gasp.

“Whoa.” He sat down beside her, his leg
touching hers.

She stared at his muscular thigh, feeling
like a fool and wanting to touch him all at once.

“Those things are dangerous. Let me check
your ankle.” He moved off the curb and crouched in front of her. He
lifted her leg at the knee and slid his hand over her ankle and up
the sleek leather boot. She felt the heat of his palm all the way
up the back of her calf. He slid them down slowly, as if he’d done
it many times before, and slipped her stockinged foot carefully
from the boot. Her foot dangled in the air between them.

Danica’s head spun. It had been way too long
since she’d felt her body react to a man’s touch. She leaned back
and closed her eyes. “It’s fine,” she whispered. One of his hands
softly held her calf, sending a tingling sensation up her thighs.
His other hand held her foot. His palms were warm and big. She
wondered what they would feel like moving up her leg. Blake wiggled
her foot, sending a searing pain through her ankle. Her eyes flew
open. “Ouch!” She sat up and pulled her leg from his grasp, causing
him to lose his balance and fall forward. He caught himself with
his arms on either side of her waist, his face just above her
chest. For a second, they just stared at each other. She held her
breath, then realized he was doing the same.

He lowered his elbows, his lips coming closer
to hers. “You okay?” he whispered.

His eyes bore into hers.

“You’ve asked me that a lot lately.”

He smiled. “I guess I have.”

God, he’s impossibly gorgeous
. Danica
looked around, and even in her drunken state, she knew they must
have been quite the sight splayed out along the curb of the side
street in front of the bar. “We should move,” she said, slipping
off her other boot.

“Right.” He pushed from the ground and then
offered her a hand. Danica sat on the curb, unwilling to move. She
didn’t trust herself not to jump him. She felt like Belinda or
Kaylie. All she could think about were his lips.

 “Wait one second.” He grabbed her boots
from the ground. “Wow. No wonder you fell. These are killer
heels.”

“Where are your girlfriends?” she asked as
she reached for his hand. The icy road beneath her bare feet made
her shiver.

He pulled her to her feet, and she
immediately collapsed back to the curb with a cry of pain.

“Uh-oh, you did do some damage. Want me to
take you to the emergency room? It might be broken.”

Emergency room? She couldn’t think past the
wonder of where his entourage was. She shook her head. “Where are
your girlfriends?” she asked again.

“They’re not my girlfriends. I can’t help it
if they clung to me.” He sat down beside her, his shoulder touching
Danica’s.

She liked the feel of him. It had been so
long since she’d been with a man. She’d almost forgotten the way a
man’s touch could make her heart soar. Maybe just this once, just
one night?
Behave, woman
, she told herself.
Now you sound
like Belinda. You know he’s a player
.
Don’t
rationalize
.

“No emergency room. I’m fine. It’s just
twisted. I just need to get home. I live right around the corner,
at The Heights condominiums. I can walk.”

“No, you can’t.”

Pfft!
She swatted the air. “I’m fine.
Really, go.”

“How about if I just drive you to your
complex?”

Danica thought of Belinda again, and reality
sobered her. “It’s okay. I’ll call a cab. Thanks, though.”

“You sure? How about if I stay with you while
you wait?” Blake looked at her with empathy, and Danica thought she
saw desire hovering in his eyes.

“I’m really not that kind of girl, even if
I’m drunk. Maybe you should have gone home with the Barbie
twins.”

Blake’s jaw dropped. “Look, you don’t even
know me. I wasn’t going to try anything, and I think that’s pretty
presumptuous of you.” The hurt in his voice was palpable.

“I’m sorr—”

Blake was already heading for his car. He
waved his hand dismissively behind him.

Great, now you can add
bitch
to your
typically
frigid
self.

The morning light peeked in through the
unfamiliar curtains. Blake slid off the bed and slithered into his
jeans as silent as a mouse, a skill he’d spent the last twenty
years refining. His head felt like a fog-filled balloon. He really
needed to cut back on the tequila chasers. He tightened his belt
around his slim waist and glanced in the mirror. He did a
once-over, checking for fingernail marks, hickeys, or any of the
other calling cards women left as their claim on him. No marks. A
relieved sigh escaped his lips. He leaned over the dresser, closer
to the mirror, and touched the peppery whiskers along his jaw.
Yesterday he would have thought,
Damn. I’ve still got it
.
Today, Blake saw an aging, selfish, lonely man. He’d spent the last
several hours trying to escape the reality of his best friend’s
death, but now it found him like a vulture on prey, settling heavy
and dark upon his shoulders.

He pulled his light-blue Henley over his
thick, dark hair and smoothed it against the six-pack he worked so
hard to maintain. With one last glance at the buxom brunette’s
shapely, bare ass, he headed for the door. He hadn’t wanted to go
home alone last night, and she’d been just what he needed. After
that bitch Danica pegged him for just what he was, he’d needed a
release and returned to the bar.
Get in, have fun, and get
out
, he reminded himself. For all the years he could remember,
that had been his motto. Dave had coined him as the Lady Slayer.
Only, today, he wasn’t on the high that he usually felt after a
satisfying conquest. And Rozy, or Willow—he couldn’t remember
which—had definitely been satisfying. Today, he looked at her naked
body and felt nothing but loneliness. Sally and Rusty would wake up
soon and realize that Dave was really gone. Blake knew he couldn’t
run from the hurt that was clawing at his heart, but he could
ignore it.

Blake pulled away from her apartment in his
Land Rover, thinking about Dave. The sadness hit him like a punch
to the gut. He’d hoped to run from the hole Dave had left in his
life and from the pain of thinking about it, but he’d woken up as
the exact same man he’d been the night before, only, if possible,
even lonelier. He had to go to work and face a business that would
only emphasize the loss of his friend. He wished he could go from
one bed to the next, occupying his mind on the plays he put on
women, pretending as if the real world didn’t exist. But even he
knew that one day that hurt would find him, and he’d drown in an
even deeper abyss of mourning chased by a helping of
self-loathing.

Blake stood in front of the glass doors of
AcroSki, his feet rooted to the ground. Once he walked inside, he
knew real life would find him. He wasn’t ready to deal with it.
He’d pushed his feelings down to a manageable flicker, and he knew
that the moment he opened those doors and was welcomed by darkness
and silence, that flicker would burst into flames and burn right
through his coat of armor.

The sign on the door said Closed, as it had
since they'd closed up and headed for the slopes the night of
Dave’s accident. The moments before they’d skied came rushing back
to him—Dave’s anger, Blake’s dismissal of that anger.
Dave would
never walk through those doors again.
Blake was surprised at
how his heart slammed within his chest, and his hands began to
tremble. He could not do it. He couldn’t face customers and pretend
everything was okay. He’d tried to pretend last night and this
morning, but it was right in front of him again. He had to take the
day off. He couldn’t work. He mentally ticked off what he’d have to
accomplish in order to make that happen. He’d lose income, but that
wasn’t a problem. He had plenty of money. He’d have to pay their
two part-time employees. It was only fair. Within minutes, he’d
made his decision. He would escape reality for one more day, but
there was something inside that he needed, and that meant entering
into the silence.

Blake tightened the muscles in his legs,
pulled his shoulders back, and turned the lock.
I can do
this
. He walked through the doors into the cool air of the
store. The temperature was always cooler in the mornings, before
the timer for the heat kicked up a notch. With his head down, he
barreled toward the office, trying to ignore the absence of Dave’s
banter:
Hey, Lady Slayer. Who was it last night? Brunette or
blonde?
Blake went into the office, flicked on the light, and
closed the door, leaving the ghost of his best friend behind him.
His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. He pushed around
the papers on his desk, frantically pulled the drawers open one by
one, then sifted through the documents inside.
Where the hell is
it?

He thought about the day before, the slip of
paper Dave shoved into his pocket. What had he done with it?
Damn it!
He had to find it fast. He wanted to make an
appointment with someone to help him modify his behavior before he
changed his mind. He needed to lock himself in this time with more
than just words.

Blake picked up the phone and called their
employees, breaking the news of Dave's death. They needed their own
time to mourn, so closing the store had come as no surprise to
them. He jogged back through the store, then out the front doors,
locking them—and Dave’s missing presence—behind him. The Closed
sign swayed against the glass. He knew he’d have disappointed
customers, but he was dead set on dealing with this head on.
Adrenaline sent him running for his car. He climbed in, breathing
hard. He was doing the right thing. He knew he was. Dave’s death
was the impetus he needed to make some changes in his life. He
pushed the pedal to the floor and was home in twenty-eight
minutes.

He flew up the stairs to his third-floor
condo and unlocked the door. He breezed through and didn’t even
notice when the door slammed shut behind him. He ran to his laundry
basket, throwing dirty clothes onto the floor until he found his
jeans, then dug into each pocket until the slip of paper came out
in his fingers. He let out a loud breath and closed his fist around
it.

Blake sat on the chocolate-brown comforter on
his king-sized bed and leaned his elbows on his knees, his forehead
pressed into his fisted hands. He contemplated his next move. Did
he really need help? Couldn’t he just deal with Dave’s death like
other people did? Let the ache and the missing come in and spirit
him away into a deep depression? He would go about his life as he
always had—from one woman to the next, ignoring his emotions.
Feeling nothing but a cocoon of his own pleasure. What was so wrong
with that?

He opened his fist and looked at the crumpled
paper. Dave’s meticulous handwriting stared back at him, his voice
floating forth.
Work through that mommy drama of yours
.
Blake hadn’t thought of his mother, really thought of her, in
years. She’d left when he was just a little boy. He lay back on the
bed and closed his eyes. Dave was gone. Really gone. He’d been his
only real friend. Everyone else was transient, peripheral, benign.
A tear slipped down his cheek. He swiped at it angrily. Damn it. He
wasn’t a child. People died! It was just part of life. He stood and
paced.

His cell phone rang. He glanced at it.
Sally
.
Shit
. He let it go to voice mail, then dialed
the number on the slip of paper. He needed to be strong for Sally,
and in his current state of mind, he just couldn’t be. His heart
pounded against his chest. One ring. Two. He could hang up now.
Three.
Just hang up
. Voice mail.
You’ve reached the
office of Dr. Snow
…

“Hi, um…I’d like to make an appointment,
please.” He added his phone number and took the phone away from his
ear, then brought it back. “Thank you.” He pressed End, then
realized he hadn’t left his name. There was no way he was calling
back. He didn’t trust himself not to cancel the inquiry.

He dialed Sally’s number.

Danica and Michelle sat by the window in
Crumbles Bakery, surrounded by the homey aroma of coffee and
freshly baked bread. Because Michelle’s past was so traumatic,
Danica tried to find cozy places for them to meet. She believed
that smells and surroundings could have an impact on one’s mood,
though if Michelle’s mood was any indication, she’d been dead
wrong. Danica enjoyed being Michelle’s Big Sister. It was a
different experience from being Kaylie’s older, biological sister.
She looked at Michelle, slumped over the table, with her straight,
bottle-black hair hanging down to the middle of her back. Their
thirteen-year age difference made her more like an aunt than a
sister, but Danica was still younger than Michelle’s mom, which
made her more relatable. That might be why they got along so well.
Sometimes, they just sat and talked for hours, and other times they
went to the movies, bookstores, or museums. She thought again about
the youth center she had longed to open and wondered, if there were
such a place, would Michelle feel like she fit in?