Ms. Kyle McHugh, I assume. It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Blake Hartt, and I’m entirely to blame for Livia’s clean face. I let the rain wash everything away. Please accept my apology.
Debra AnastasiaCould we please just go?” Livia asked, swallowing back her panic. She had no idea what Chris might do—or Kyle, for that matter.
Debra AnastasiaYou grabbed my tit a little, Mr. Old Timey Talker.”
Blake seemed to swallow a smile.
“Manhandling a lady is inexcusable. I would only do so if said woman was too stubborn to remove herself from a dangerous situation.” He took Kyle’s hand and kissed the top of it lightly.
“Aw, crap. Well, aren’t you too fucking charming for words?” Kyle smiled despite her best efforts to look tough. “All right, Mr. Old Timey, I’ll let you get away with the boob palming this time.”
“That’s fortunate because I hate ingesting my own testicles.” He gave her a devilish grin with naughty eyes to match.
Kyle looked at Livia. “He’s adorable.
Request away, rock star.” Here it comes. “Can she wear a push-up bra? Leave off the panties?” Kyle knew what boys liked.
“When my lips touch her face I like to taste her skin, so maybe the makeup could be on the light side?” Blake closed one eye.
Holy fuck, that’s sexy. Kyle felt her heart spit on her soul, taunting, Cole would want you as you are, if you were important enough. But you’re not.
Five hundred twelve.” Blake’s eyes went from joking to smoldering. He kissed smile 512 right off her lips.
Debra AnastasiaKyle sat up on her bed and assessed her work on Blake. I rock. He’s scrumptious.
Debra AnastasiaBeckett eyed them as he lounged on three chairs he’d shoved together into a hard, uncomfortable couch. They’re so fucking innocent. They don’t have a clue why I showed up here tonight.
Debra AnastasiaBlake had his own idea. He didn’t lead her to the dancefloor. Blake took her deeper into the corner behind their table.
With the pink rose cradled carefully in their combined hands, Blake and Livia began a slow dance to music only they could hear. Livia danced to the symphony she heard flowing out of the church window the night she found out he could play. She opened her eyes to see Blake’s serene face. She wondered if he danced to music he was composing in his head at this very moment—music that had not yet been played.
Blake stood at Livia’s dresser with a ceramic Cinderella and Prince Charming figurine in his hands. He almost dropped it when he looked at her, dressed for him.
“Thank you, Kyle,” he said, not loud enough for Kyle to hear.
Beckett smiled at his past and future customers with both his dimples. No need to feel alarmed, his smile told them. The devil always had the biggest welcome mat at his door.
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