If the Sun Never Sets - Ana Huang Page 0,29

jerked out a nod.

The waitress returned with their check, confirmation there was one room left at the B&B, and a piece of paper that Farrah was sure contained her phone number, which Rachel Bilson 2.0 slipped to Blake.

He didn’t notice. His head bowed, all traces of sunny, irreverent Blake gone. In its place was a darker, brooding version of himself that had Farrah’s heart aching and wondering what, exactly, had happened to him in the time they were apart.

Chapter Fourteen

“For God’s sake, Joy, I said I’ll try. Look, I have to go. I’m with someone.” A pause, then a grudging, “Love you too. Talk to you later.”

Farrah tried to focus on her Kindle app and not eavesdrop on Blake’s conversation.

She failed. Miserably.

A second later, Blake stepped out of the bathroom, wearing sweatpants and...nothing else. An orange Syracuse T-shirt sat balled in his fist instead of covering his sculpted chest and six-pack abs. His sweatpants rode low on his hips, eliciting wicked fantasies about what would happen if they inched down just a bit.

Farrah gulped. She pulled the covers up to her chest, hyperaware of her hard nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her own T-shirt, which was so large she wore it as a dress.

She and Blake arrived at the B&B with no incident but had gotten soaked during their run from the car to the inn. Since neither had planned for an overnight trip, they didn’t have a change of outfits. Fortunately, the owners were kind enough to lend them clothes for the night. Unfortunately, Farrah’s bra was tumbling in a washer somewhere along with the rest of her clothes instead of hiding her obvious and unwanted reaction to the man standing in front of her.

“Is everything ok?” The question came out breathier than she would’ve liked. Farrah cleared her throat. “You look upset.”

“I’m all right. Family stuff.” Blake tossed the shirt onto the chair in the corner. “Shirt’s too small,” he explained. “Hope you don’t mind.” Apology and a hint of mischief crept into his expression, one that said he knew what the sight of his bare chest did to her and what he’d find if he pulled the covers off her and shoved her panties aside.

Farrah’s thighs clenched. Her mind spun in a million directions, all of them counterproductive to her emotional and, soon, physical well-being. Whatever the female version of blue balls was, she had it. Bad.

“Is it your dad?” She silently applauded her attempt at maintaining a normal conversation when all she wanted to do was run into the bathroom and relieve the ache between her legs.

Blake rubbed his jaw. “Sorta. I was talking to my sister. My dad’s fiftieth birthday is in August, and she wants me to fly back to Austin for the party.”

“That doesn’t sound so terrible.” Farrah’s brows drew together. Blake didn’t have the best relationship with his father, but… “He can’t still be mad at you for quitting football.”

“Who the hell knows.” Blake leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms over his chest. “I told him why I quit, you know. After I returned home from Shanghai. He all but called me a pussy for worrying about CTE. Said the threat of a concussion was better than failing as a businessman. He was so sure my sports bar wouldn’t make it.”

Farrah’s heart twisted at the bitterness coating his voice. She’d had a tumultuous relationship with her own father when he was alive, but for all his faults, he’d never made her feel less than. “But it did. It’s one of the most successful sports bar chains in the country. You built an entire empire in just a few years.”

Blake flashed a sardonic smile. “Yes, and do you know how many of my bar openings he’s been to? Zero. Not even the inaugural in Austin. My mom was there, and my sister, but not him. Said he wasn’t feeling well, but we came home to him drinking beer and watching football.”

In that moment, Farrah saw Blake not as a heartbreaker, but as someone whose own heart had been broken so many times by those closest to him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She curled her fingers around the comforter, willing herself not to hug him and pour into him some of the light that seeped out every time he brought up his father.

So many reasons I shouldn’t.

“You know what the most fucked-up part is?” Blake’s eyes brewed with a storm that made the one raging outside look like a gentle summer rain.