I trail Ember over to the counter, trying to ignore the pinched feeling in my stomach.
Had Blake come in and left because of me?
Had he...oh God, had he heard me singing?
I keep my mouth shut as I slide onto a stool next to Ember. Her cousin—I recognize her as Felicity, the one who called into the radio show, talking about her nightmares—slides over with a grin.
“Y’all are welcome to do that any time,” she says, her eyes merry as she tucks her brown hair back. “With how hard it is to keep business running, you could draw a crowd every night.”
“I think Gray would lose his mind if I left him alone with the baby every night,” Ember says with a laughing wink, tucking her loose hair back behind her ear. “He loves Auggie to death, but he gets so helpless dad sometimes. The man freaks out like she’s made of crystal and he’ll break her if he sneezes too hard.”
“Him? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Icy?” Felicity laughs. “I’ll believe it when I see the video.”
Suddenly, though, her attention’s on me—snapping to my eyes with an abruptness that makes me recoil.
She studies me. “You’re quiet. Need a little caffeine to lift you up? Anything you want, on the house.”
“Decaf,” I say with a sheepish laugh. “Or else I’ll never sleep tonight. Too wired. But maybe a decaf cappuccino?”
“Sure thing,” she says. “Not planning to stay up to listen for the radio show tonight, then?”
Oh.
Oh, damn it.
The way she’s watching me leaves no room for doubt.
She knows, doesn’t she?
Everyone knows.
That’s why Ember mentioned Blake being here.
That’s why Felicity’s watching me like a hawk with a knowing little smile.
Ugh. I guess in towns like this, everyone knows everyone’s business. And they like that business a lot when it means drama.
It hits me then.
Of course they know. Everyone and their dog heard me being flirty with Blake on the radio.
I wince, rubbing the back of my neck. “I mean, I could...”
But I’m not calling in again.
No way.
Not even to hear Blake’s voice go gentle the way I want so bad, when he’s open and sweet and soft instead of this closed off, hyper-defensive beast. Fighting to protect himself as much as he’s trying to protect Andrea from more sorrow.
“You know, I think I’ll try a full-caf cappuccino after all,” I venture, then quickly correct, “No. Half-caf. I have a nine a.m. tomorrow with rich folks who tip really well. I have to sleep at some point tonight.”
“Half-caf it is,” Felicity says, turning away with a sly look. “Blake got his coffee black with a pinch of sugar, you know. I have a feeling he’ll be up pretty late himself.”
Groan.
Oh my God.
I’m so obvious people are trying to play cupid.
But what good does it do if he doesn’t want to be my match?
I shouldn’t be awake.
Too bad.
It’s after eleven, and I’m curled up in my pajamas—or at least what I call pajamas, an old ripped tie-dye t-shirt that’s barely holding together by a thread and a pair of lace boyshort panties.
The heat in the cabin is so good I don’t need anything else to stay warm besides a cup of calming tea. It tells my heart rate to normalize after the caffeine hit that was definitely a bad idea.
Sure.
The caffeine.
That’s why I’m a jittery mess.
Not because I’m listening to classic rock tracks, waiting to see if Blake’s coming on the air tonight.
Rod Stewart’s fading off the air when I hear that faint click that says they’ve gone live.
My breath sticks in my lungs.
I’m such a mess, I swear.
And I wish so much the gentle thunder of Blake’s voice was for me as he starts up. “You’re tuned in to the heart of Heart’s Edge, and our lines are open. Do we have any callers tonight?”
“We’ve got one,” his sidekick, Mario, says. “She just says her name is E.”
“Okay, E,” Blake rumbles. It’s so soothing listening to his rough velvet voice, so compelling, this hypnotic lyricism that just makes me close my eyes and bask. “I’m listening.”
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the voice that comes over the line.
“Hey,” Ember says, sounding just a little too innocent and cheerful. “I don’t think you’re going to get many callers tonight. Just a lot of listeners.”
Blake pauses and chuckles. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because we’re waiting,” Ember says brightly. “And really hoping you don’t screw this up.”
“Screw what up, exactly?” Blake’s voice sharpens.
“You know,” Ember tells him softly. “We all know. I don’t need advice, you know. I just called in to give you a little advice for a change.”
“I ain’t amused. Did Doc put you up to this? ’Cause if he did, I’ll—” Blake snarls, and I giggle, hiding it behind my palm as if he can hear me.
This is absolutely mortifying.
And too adorable.
I can just picture him sitting there glaring daggers at the mic.
“Nope, this is my baby. But you should laugh more,” Ember says.
“Laugh more? That the advice you’ve been keeping me waiting for?”
“No,” Ember replies, her voice softening, the laughter fading to leave a sort of sweet fondness. “It’s okay to be nice to people, Blake. It’s okay to trust strangers sometimes...they’re not all Galentron agents. Some people just want to take away your pain...and the rest of us just want to see you happy.”
My breath catches, my chest aching.
God. I press my hand to my breastbone, trying to control my pulse again.
Blake’s silent.
I almost think he’s left in a huff until he says, “Well, thanks for that, lady. Sometimes, it helps when the boot’s on the other foot and I’m the dude getting some wisdom.”
“I know,” Ember says. “But I’m going to go now and stop tying up the line. Good luck, Blake. You know what this is about.”
There’s another sandpapery sound from Blake, then the click as the line goes quiet, leaving just the sound of empty air with a hint of breathing.
“Well, uh...” Mario drawls out slowly. “Not sure what to make of that, boss.”
“Maybe,” Blake says slowly, thoughtfully. “If no one else is gonna call in, we wait for Broccoli? You out there, girl? I got some things to say.”
My heart stops.
I just stare at the radio like it’s Blake himself, not even breathing, my chest tight and my hands clenched into little fists until my nails bite into my palms.
Um, what is happening?
Right here?
On the open freaking air?
Not even pretending like he’s talking to anyone but me.
And my heart remembers to beat again in velvety shivers as he croons in a husky tone, “C’mon. Don’t keep a guy waiting. Everybody’s listening.”
I’m about to die.
And on my autopsy, cause of death will say this man.
I fumble for my phone. I can barely tap the numbers, but after an awkward minute, I manage.