Forever in Love (28 page)

“No, she’s not. I told her I’d take care of it. You probably don’t know this, but I make the best cheeseburger in the entire state of Tennessee.”

“Do you now?”

“Uh huh.” Blaine folded the empty bag and stuck it under the sink. He pulled a mixing bowl out from another cabinet.

Catherine watched him. “You understand that I’m not doing a relationship until I know I’m ready…right?”

“I got it. But we can share a non-date meal, can’t we?”

“Fine, so long as you’re cooking. I’m awful at it.”

He gave her a roguish grin. “Think you can uncork the wine and let it breathe?”

“I can do that.” She popped the cork free and poured herself a small glass. The rosé tasted semi-fruity without being too sweet. It would go very well with the burger.

She sat at the coffee table and watched him work. He seemed to have no problem finding what he needed. He folded his sleeves up, revealing the same sinewy forearms she’d seen at The Line. Muscles bunched and flexed as he prepped their food, and she wished she had the confidence to go up and embrace him from behind.

Except that wouldn’t do. She should stop thinking about stuff like that. All her life, her relationships had been about what she could get from dating a guy. And because of that, she’d put the guy’s desires over hers when it came to sex, food, what she wore and everything else. She might have gotten the popularity or security she sought, but ultimately it had cheapened her sense of self, leaving her at loose ends when the relationship fizzled out. She had to believe she was someone worthwhile, with or without a man standing next to her.

Meat started to sizzle, and she sighed at the delicious aroma. Men never cooked for her—they just took her to restaurants. The scene seemed so domestic and tranquil. Just the two of them in a house. And she liked it more than she was comfortable admitting.

Blaine took the food into the dining room and called out, “Dinner’s served.”

She went to the table and hummed with appreciation. The cheeseburgers looked absolutely perfect, the french-fries fat and golden. “I made some salad too,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at her, “just in case.”

“This is perfect. Thank you.” They both sat down. She took a big bite of the burger and moaned. The beef tasted like nothing she’d ever had before, and there was velvety cheese and crispy bacon layered into the patty.

“Grass-fed organic Angus. You like it?”

She swallowed and actually had to take a moment before she could speak. “I can’t believe I went without for so long. I think the last time I had a cheeseburger was when I was six.” Her tongue was still tingling from the culinary orgasm.

Blaine looked aghast. “You telling me you ate salad for twenty years?”

“Something like that.” She took a fry. It was crispy outside and soft inside. “Mark would kill for your recipe. He’s all about restaurants.”

“Doesn’t he have millions of recipes already?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. He can’t cook.”

He chuckled. “Seriously?”

“Nope. He’s never in the kitchen.” She sighed with pleasure after another bite. “Oh my god, Blaine. This is just
soooo
good.”

As they ate, they talked. Blaine asked her about her job, how she liked working for the infamous Barron Sterling and what her mother thought of it. Catherine loved everything about her job, but her mother likely knew nothing about it; they hadn’t talked since their conversation on Amandine’s jet.

“I always thought Dad just got greedy for some reason.” Catherine hadn’t told anybody, but somehow it seemed very natural to share the information with Blaine. “But it was my mom all along. I hate to say it, but she’s a lot like me, you know. Her social status and…whatever was always determined by how much money my dad had. And she had some kind of rivalry going on with Ceinlys, so she urged my dad to do something about the fact that Salazar was worth more. Except my dad lost everything instead.”

“Jeez. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s just how things were in my family. I think in some ways I’m scared of becoming like my mother. What if I end up hurting everyone because I can’t find satisfaction in my life except through some man I’m with? I was with Jacob for so long even though he wasn’t good for me because I was afraid I’d be nothing if he left me.”

He scowled. “Kinda wish I could meet him face-to-face. Mainly so I could punch him out.”

“He’s not worth it. Trust me.” She took a long swallow of her wine. “Anyway, what are you going to do now that you have fifty million bucks and no place to work?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I tried to keep my money situation quiet, but it was impossible.” He scowled for a moment before he caught himself and smoothed out his expression. But she’d caught it.

“Have things changed a lot for you?” she asked gently.

“You could say that. And not for the better. I mean, close friends like Dusty and Rick don’t treat me any different,” Blaine said. “But some other folks…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. They seem to think I should donate or invest in every damn thing they can come up with. They don’t care that I have a business to run or anything. Someone actually shoved a letter at me in a public bathroom.”

She cringed. “I’m sorry.”

“Maybe I should’ve thought more about it.” He downed the rest of his beer.

“You couldn’t have anticipated that. The people you think are the most loyal aren’t necessarily so. It was hard for me too. When my dad lost everything, my best friend turned against me.”

He linked his fingers with hers. “That’s awful.”

“I should’ve seen it coming. She wasn’t the nicest person. We just stayed together because we were popular, not because we had a lot in common.”

They lingered over their food and wine, but eventually the dinner ended. Blaine helped Catherine load the dishwasher. At the door, he turned to her and gave her a wistful smile. “Thanks for the company.”

“Thank you for dinner, Blaine. It was lovely.”

He leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. It was the barest of touches, his lips unbelievably soft and light on hers. But as their breaths mingled, she thought her heart would burst with swelling emotion. If it had been something sexual, she would’ve been able to control her reaction, but this was something far more potent.

A word appeared in her mind.
Love
.

He pulled back. “Have a good night, Catherine. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes. I’d like that.” Then when the door closed, she leaned against it and brought a hand to her tingling lips.

Blaine didn’t stop with dinner. The next morning there were a dozen yellow roses on her porch as she stepped out of the house. There wasn’t any card, but she didn’t need one to know where they’d come from.

She was wearing her best blue dress and had her hair pulled into a simple French twist. She didn’t own a suit…not that there was any need to look like an office worker. She was a curator, not a banker. As she walked to her car, the back of her neck prickled. A few people on the other side of the street were staring and whispering. Were they still talking about how she was looking for a rich husband? Or was it more drug-lord idiocy? Ugh.

A part of her wanted to march up to them and tell them to mind their own business, but she had better things to do than worry about what they thought. If she delayed much longer, she’d be late for her appointment with Dusty, and she didn’t want to start her first acquisition off that way.

As she passed by The Line, she almost thought maybe it was open again. The lot was full and people were milling around. She’d never seen this many, not even on a Saturday. Then it hit her. They weren’t there to get food. They wanted a piece of Blaine. Even though the restaurant was closed, they were standing out there just in case he showed.

Fury surged through her.
How can they do this to him?

Everyone gave lip-service to the idea that money could change people for the worse. But somehow it was more visceral and terrible seeing it happen in person.

When Catherine arrived in front of a modest two-story white and beige house that the GPS led her to, the hood of Dusty’s truck was up and he was bent over the engine. He extricated himself as she pulled up and she saw he was dressed in his usual baggy shirt and jeans. He smiled as she climbed out of her car.

“Man, you look pretty as ever,” he said. “I’d give you a hug, but…” He indicated the grease on his clothes.

“Rain check. And you look great yourself.”

“Anyone hassle you on the way over?”

She frowned. “No. Why?”

“Oh. It’s just…” He shrugged as he opened the door to his house. It was cozy inside with a couple of comfy worn couches and carpet that lay as flat as a sheet of paper. A couple of video game controllers and an open bag of potato chips lay on top of a scarred coffee table. He’d hung photographs on the walls, mostly Ansel Adams prints you could buy from any Internet store. “Everyone heard Blaine went to your place.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Are they still going on about me being a gold digger?”

“That stuff? Nah. They’re wondering how tight you are with him. So you can help them.”

“You mean they want me to help them swindle money out of Blaine.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “I don’t think so.”

“They been hounding Blaine for weeks now. He cut off the phone to his place and shut down the bar.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Only way he can get any peace. But he’s still paying everyone’s wages until he decides what to do. I say he should sell it to Rick. He’d be good at it, ya know?” Dusty put his hand on a door at the end of the hall then stopped. “Hey, I gotta ask you something. If you take my paintings, am I gonna end up like him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are people gonna hassle me because…you know.”

The question made her think. “I guess that depends,” she said. “This isn’t for a gallery but a private collector. So your art may or may not be seen by a lot of people. But you shouldn’t let money worries stop you from realizing your potential.”

“Still…”

“Do you think Blaine should’ve given up his trust fund because of them?” She jerked her thumb outside. “Would that be fair?”

Dusty scowled. “No. Guess not.”

“So don’t deny yourself. You deserve this, Dusty.”

Chewing his lower lip, he nodded. “I guess it’s like they say in the good book. ‘Let he who is without sin pass the first stone.’”

Catherine squinted at him. “Ah—”

“Come on, you’re right. Let’s go inside.”

* * *

Every evening Blaine came to the Blue House to cook dinner. They’d share it and talk about all sorts of topics from art to music to their future plans. Blaine might not have gone to college or done a lot of the stuff that most men in her circle had, but he was smart and witty and surprisingly knowledgeable about a lot of things.

But to her bemusement, he never made any move to take what they had to the next level. Well, there was the kiss at the end of the evening, but that wasn’t the same, especially when it landed on her forehead. Catherine began to understand why Prince Charming was so frustrated that Cinderella had disappeared after the romantic dance.

“Blaine, I heard things are…well, pretty bad with your social situation. Are you all right?” she asked one evening while they were sitting on the couch. The TV was on but muted. He’d made the most delicious meal of steak and buttery mashed potatoes.

He sighed. “Not really. The longer I stay here the more I realize I’m probably gonna have to move someplace else. Now folks from Greensville are starting to come around.”

“Wow.”

He frowned. “They haven’t been approaching you to get you to talk to me or anything, have they?”

“No. I can be pretty unapproachable when I want to be, and they probably aren’t as comfortable talking to me as they are with you.”

“Good. I feel bad about saying no to them. I’ve known a lot of these folks all my life. But I can’t handle this new side to them either. It’s pretty rough.”

She mulled that over. “Do you know why people like Salazar, Barron and Gavin have assistants?”

“Of course. They’re busy.”

“They are, but that’s not really the reason. They need gatekeepers. Otherwise they would have the same problem you do except much worse. And you have to learn to say no. It’s your money. You shouldn’t have to give it away to every person who ever said hello to you. If you want, you can ask Gavin’s firm to handle your fund. They’re very good at managing money, and I’m sure Gavin can recommend somebody you can use as a filter between you and the people who want a piece of you.”

He sighed. “I’ll think about it. I’m just disappointed that so many of the townsfolk changed.”

“Money often changes people.”

“You think it changed me too?”

She moved and sat next to him on the couch and rested her head on his shoulder. “No. You’re still you. And I’m thankful for that.” She put a hand over his chest and felt his heart thud in unison with hers. How could they be so in sync?

They sat in a companionable silence. She ran her fingers over his chest. Would he finally make a move or would he end the evening with a chaste kiss again? He never did more than that, no matter how she signaled to him it was okay to kiss her on the mouth. Either the man was dense—except she knew he wasn’t—or trying to drive her crazy, which she was certain of. Every night in bed, she’d think of the things he could’ve done to her, the scorching hot things they’d done before everything had gotten so complicated.

But she sensed he wouldn’t make the next move. It was up to her, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it yet. She’d just found a measure of independence and had stopped thinking about how men would view what she did. She was afraid if she initiated sex with Blaine, she might start reverting to her old habits of trying to please men first.

And she wasn’t even sure when she would be ready. It wasn’t fair to string Blaine along…but at the same time she didn’t want him with anyone else but her.

“Are you almost done with Dusty’s paintings?” he asked.

“Almost.” Actually, she was finished. She could’ve left a couple of days before, but she hadn’t.