I provided that for her. I made her feel safe enough to sleep.
That's a start. My Blakely has been to hell and back and even has the scars to show it. I still don't know the details of what she endured before I met her, but now that she's here, I don't want to let her go.
At some point in my tossing and turning last night, my heart decided to come back online after being shut off for years. For the first time since leaving the Rangers, it wasn’t nightmares that kept me awake; it was thoughts of how I could earn Blakely’s trust.
Goddamn, if I don't finally understand what Huxley and Wilder went through with their women. Overnight, my entire purpose and meaning in life have changed.
While coming up with ways to build Blakely up and help her see the woman I see, I decided to make three dozen muffins.That was at four in the morning, and now, several hours later, I have nothing to do except wait for my girl to wake up. Not that she’smine, per se. Not yet, anyway.
Sighing, I head to the bathroom and rinse my face, looking in the mirror for what feels like the first time since moving up the mountain. The man reflected at me looks a little worse for wear. I have bags under my eyes, and my hair sticks straight up, which makes sense considering how much I’ve been messing with it this morning. My beard is… unruly, to say the least. I look a bit feral. It’s a miracle I didn’t scare Blakely off when she woke up on my couch.
Wetting my hair and beard down, I attempt to tame my wild locks and shape my beard enough to be presentable. I can’t say I’ve ever cared much about how I look, but I want Blakely to like what she sees.
The familiar sound of the bedroom door creaking open has my heart racing and everything in me on high alert. She’s awake. Her cute little feet pad against the hardwood floor, and I take one last look at myself in the mirror. I don’t deserve the sweet angel who trespassed through my land and straight into my heart. I couldn’t live with myself if she thought I was taking advantage of her or the vulnerable position she was in. But the thought of leaving her in the care of someone else has a growl rumbling up from my very core.
When Blakely calls my name in her tentative voice, I know I’m fucked. She’s mine to cherish. Mine to heal. Mine to… love?
I step out of the bathroom, catching a glimpse of Blakely as she enters the kitchen. Her black hair is tied up in a messy bun with a few strands falling around her face, framing it and making her look like a goddamn doll with her wide, blue eyes.
I watch as she takes in the mountain of muffins stacked on three plates on my kitchen table. Her face lights up in disbelief, and she smiles as if she won the lottery. Blakely reaches outfor one blueberry-filled muffin, then pauses, her hand hovering above the plate as if she doesn’t know if she’s allowed to eat.
This woman is killing me.
“Go ahead and take your pick,” I say as I walk into the kitchen.
Blakely jumps and snatches her hand back, looking at me over her shoulder with sorrow in her eyes and an apology on her lips. “Sorry, Cassian, I didn’t–”
“No need to apologize,” I assure her, trying to keep my features soft and my movements gentle. It’s quite the feat for a giant who lumbers around, slamming doors and hitting his head on ceilings. “Please, eat up. I can probably eat about half of these on my own, but the other half shouldn’t go to waste.”
This earns me the smallest little smirk, which I consider a win.
Blakely takes the muffin she was eyeing earlier, as well as some grapes and orange juice I set out. She waits for me to grab my food, her eyes following my every move. I swear I can feel her gaze rake over every inch of my skin.
Only after I sit down and take a bite of my muffin does Blakely finally start eating hers. That doesn’t sit right with me. She shouldn’t have to wait for anyone, nor should she have to ask permission for something as basic as eating breakfast.
We devour our food, and I can tell Blakely wants another muffin. Of course, she would never take seconds. Which is why I pluck a muffin from the top of the stack and set it on her plate, along with another bunch of grapes. She’s about to protest when I take another muffin and shove the entire thing into my mouth.
The look on her face is priceless. Her light blue eyes widen in shock, and the most glorious thing happens: Blakely laughs. The sweet, delicate sound makes my chest ache. I can’t help the grin stretching across my face, which only makes her laugh more as crumbs fall from my mouth.
My silly trick worked, and now Blakely is nibbling on her second muffin, those blue eyes sparkling and making my heart stumble all over itself to get closer to her.
“Are you up for a little tour around my property?” I ask once we’re finished and I’m satisfied she’s had enough to eat.
Blakely tenses, her eyes darting to the window above my sink. She’s running from someone, and it’s clear she’s worried they’re still out there, looking for her.
“We’ll stay close to my cabin,” I assure her, watching as she relaxes a bit. “I fear you didn’t get a very warm welcome to the mountain, let alone the town we’re working on. I’d like to change that.”
“Why?” Blakely whispers. I furrow my brow, not sure what she’s asking. “Why… are you being nice to me? Why did you let me stay the night?”
“Sweetheart,” I murmur, placing my hand over hers where it’s resting on the table. I worry for a second the touch was too much, but then she turns her hand over, locking our fingers together. Blue eyes meet mine, and that’s when I see it. Trust. Acceptance. She doesn’t understand why I want to take care of her, not yet, anyway. But she trusts that Iwilltake care of her.
I can tell when the moment becomes too much for her. I squeeze her hand one last time and get to work clearing the table.
Ten minutes later, we’re heading out for a tour of my backyard. Blakely’s shoes were a tattered mess, so she’s wearing a pair of my old sneakers, even though they are basically boats on her feet.
My girl stumbles a bit down the porch steps, but I’m right by her side to wrap an arm around her waist and steady her. Like every time we touch, sparks fly, and heat radiates off my skin.Don’t be a horny asshole, I chastise myself.
Instead of stepping out of my embrace once she’s safely on the ground, Blakely curls up against me, her hand finding mine and squeezing. Without thinking, I draw her closer and press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.
