A Gentleman's Agreement (6 page)

Blake could only
imagine how difficult it was for Eunice to relive this moment. “No, it wasn’t.
You had the thought of a twelve-year-old.”

“I was used to hearing
her cry. Especially when we still lived with my stepfather. But this time was
different. This time I knew something was really wrong.”

Eunice lifted and
pulled away from him. Reluctantly, Blake allowed his hand to fall away from her
shoulders. He’d never in his life felt the desire to protect someone as much as
he felt it now.

More tears streamed
down her face. “My mother begged for her life, but the heartless bastard shot
her anyway. The sound… It was like a cannon.” She shook her head. “I didn’t… I
couldn’t…”

Blake stood and held
out his hand for Eunice to take. “Come on.” Once her hand was in his, he led
her to the bed. She didn’t protest when he tucked her in, nor when he nestled
close behind her. With her tightly cloaked in his arms, he whispered in her ear,
“We all have demons that haunt us. But tonight, you don’t have to fear yours.”

Because tonight—and every moment they
were together—he’d protect her.

Eunice eyed Blake as he
lay asleep beside her. How was it possible that the man was even handsome when
he slept? She wasn’t sure what time he’d fallen asleep, but she’d dozed almost
the second he nestled behind her.

What she’d shared with
him was something close and personal. Why had she chosen to share it with him
of all people? She hadn’t even shared the traumatic experience with Trevor. The
way he’d held her in his arms… Like he was truly trying to shield her from
demons.

She’d forgotten how
great it felt to fall asleep in someone’s embrace. Why did it have to be his
?
Damn you, Blake Farrington
. For reminding her how much she’d missed the comforting
act.

Inching out of the bed,
Eunice escaped to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she ventured downstairs
and allowed her nose to lead the way toward the delicious aroma of coffee.
Clearly, none of the countless other visiting family members were morning
people because Mr. and Mrs. Farrington were the only two in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she
said, entering the room.

“Good morning,” they
said in unison.

“Happy, happy
anniversary.”

“Thank you,” they said,
then kissed.

“I love this woman,”
Mr. Farrington said, eyeing his wife with pure admiration. “I’m nothing without
you.”

These two are too
adorable
. “Wow. Someone’s been cooking up a storm,” Eunice said, eyeing the
large spread. Bacon, sausage, country ham, grits, eggs, pancakes, biscuits, and
toast. Enough food for two armies. “Do you need any help? I’m a fair cook.”

Aunt Belle entered the
room. “I was married to a cook once. He died. Slipped on a grease spot and
broke his neck.”

Mr. Farrington waved
Aunt Belle’s words off, twirling his finger on the side of his head. “She’s
crazy,” he whispered.

“Solemn!” Mrs.
Farrington scalded. “No, honey. I don’t need any help. Fix yourself a plate and
relax.”

Eunice felt awful that
Mrs. Farrington was working in the kitchen on her anniversary, but she didn’t
argue with her. She took Mrs. Farrington to be a no-nonsense type of woman. Her
petite stature may be misleading to some, but not to Eunice. She had no doubt
the woman could be as vicious as a caged lion. She’d raised three boys. She had
to be tough. Eunice made a mental note to not give the woman a reason to
unleash on her. And that meant giving an Oscar worthy performance.

“May I?” Eunice said,
pointing to the coffee pot.

“Absolutely,” Mrs.
Farrington said, passing her a mug. “Cream and sugar?”

Eunice shook her head.
“No, ma’am. I take it black.”

Mr. Farrington’s face
scrunched. “Yuck!”

Mrs. Farrington
laughed. “Not everyone has to load their cup with a pound of sugar and a gallon
of cream, Solemn.”

“Thelma, no cream or
sugar is like having fried fish with no hot sauce. Just wrong, I tell you.”

“I was married to a
fisherman once. He died. Slipped on a fish and fell overboard.”

“Crazy as hell,” Mr.
Farrington said, excusing himself from the room.

“Solemn!” Mrs.
Farrington shook her hand. “That man of mine.”

Eunice moved to the
table with her hot brew.

“Are you not hungry,
honey?” Mrs. Farrington asked.

Eunice took a sip from
her cup before answering. “No. I’m really not a breakfast eater.”

“It’s the most
important meal of the day.”

Eunice smiled because
that was exactly what her mother used to say. “Maybe I’ll have a few strips of
bacon.” She stood, but Mrs. Farrington waved her back in her seat.

“I’ll fix you a plate. Is
Prat still asleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eunice eyed
Mrs. Farrington. “Why do you call him Prat?”

Mrs. Farrington glanced
out of the window and toward the lake. “His grandfather—Solemn’s father—used to
call him that. When he was young, Blake always followed Ian and Tucker around.
They would call him a brat.” She laughed. “Blake asked his grandfather what
brat meant. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, he told him they were saying
prat
and that it meant he was super smart. So Blake came to me and told me he wanted
to be called Prat.”

Eunice laughed. “That’s
adorable.”

“Morning,” Blake said,
entering the room.

“Good morning, son.”

Eunice eyed Blake as he
moved to his mother and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The black tee he wore
clung to his solid frame. She exhaled at the fact those powerful arms had been
wrapped around her a short time ago.

Blake moved in front of
her, rested one hand on the table and the other on the back of her chair.
Before her mind had fully processed his presence, he dipped forward and brushed
his lips against hers. The move was so fluent it couldn’t have been a spur of
the moment thought. The kiss only lasted a second—two, at most. But it left a
lingering effect. One that warmed her like hot coffee.

“Morning,” he said, his
lips inches from hers.

Eyeing his mouth, she
said, “Morning.”

Their gazes held for a
long, tense moment. Luckily, Aunt Belle intervened, allowing Eunice to release
the stranglehold on the breath she’d trapped in her throat.

Aunt Belle rested her
hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Who is this handsome fellow?” she asked, batting her
eyes. “I like ‘em tall, chocolate, and strong as a train.”

Blake chuckled. “I’m
Blake, Aunt Belle.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Thelma’s son.”

“For goodness sakes,
she’s not deaf, Prat. You’re roaring like a train,” his mother said.

Eunice bit back a laugh
and a desire to say, “Toot-toot.”

“I was married to a
porter once. He died. He tripped over his shoe lace and fell off the caboose.”

“Crazy as hell,” his
father yelled from another room.

“Let me go in here and
straighten that man out. Let’s go, Belle. It’s time to take your medicine.”
Mrs. Farrington neared Eunice. “Here you go, sweetie. Enjoy.”

Eunice’s eyes widened
at the loaded plate. There was no way she could eat all of that. “Thank you.”

When the two women left
the room, Blake’s eyes settled on her again. “About that peck...”

The only objection she
had was the fact that it hadn’t lasted long enough. Eunice lifted her hand.
“Part of the role-play, I know.”

Blake looked as if he
wanted to say something, but reconsidered. He moved to the spread laid out on
the island. “Ah, you’re up early.”

“The early bird gets
the worm.”

“Yeah, but the late
mouse gets the cheese.”

They both laughed.

Blake piled his plate
high with a sample of everything his mother had prepared.

“Are you going to leave
some for anyone else?”

Taking a seat next to
her, he said, “You snooze, you lose.” He bit into a piece of sausage. “I never
got to eat like this. Sasha used to fuss about bacon. Sausage. Ham. Damn near
anything that wasn’t a vegetable.”

This was the first time
he’d mention Sasha since the day in his office. “I’m sure she was just looking
out for you.”

“More like making sure
I didn’t croak before I could propose.”

“You and Sasha were
discussing marriage?” For some reason, the idea alarmed her. She bit into a
piece of bacon, not wanting to seem too interested.

“
She
discussed
marriage. To anyone who’d listen.”

“What do you have
against marriage?”

“Nothing. I just don’t
think I’m the marrying type.”

Eunice forked around
the eggs in her plates. “I don’t believe that. I personally think you would
make some woman a great husband. Great Father. Great provider.” Eunice stopped
abruptly and glanced up from her plate. Blake eyed her in that guarded manner
he sometimes eyed folks. Looking away, she said, “You have wonderful role
models. Your parents are fantastic. Your entire family is, actually.”

Blake nodded. “Thanks. And
what about you?”

“What about me, what?”

“Marriage?”

Eunice shrugged one
shoulder. “I don’t know. I think about my mom and I’m tempted to say no. But I
look at your parents, still so much in love with each other after forty years,
and I’m tempted to say absolutely. Unfortunately, that kind of happiness isn’t
guaranteed.”

“That leads me to my
next question. Why are you single? I haven’t seen you date a guy more than a
month. You’re great. Except when it’s that time of the month.” He flashed a
severe expression. “You’re a monster then. You scare me.”

Eunice swatted him
playfully. “I can’t believe you just said that. How would you know when it’s
that
time of the month
, anyway?”

“Because…” He placed
his index finger under her chin, then brushed the center of her chin with the
pad of his thumb. “…you get a small pimple right here.”

How did he…?

“I pay attention,” he
said, as if he’d read her mind.

“I guess you do.”

Blake’s thumb continued
along her jaw line, causing a sensation that raced up her spine. As if
awareness set in, he allowed his hand to fall. She instantly missed the feel of
his touch.

“And your chocolate
consumption triples.
Hersey’s Kisses
don’t stand a chance around you.”

Eunice growled at him,
then jabbed him in the side. “To answer your question. I don’t allow anyone to
get too close.” She shrugged slightly. “I guess it’s fear of going through what
my mother went through. All in the name of love.”

“That wasn’t love. Love
protects, it doesn’t harm.”

“Maybe I should fall in
love with you.” She snapped her eyes to him abruptly. How in the hell had that
slipped out? Especially when she hadn’t even realized she was thinking it. “I
didn’t mean— I mean—”

Not looking up from his
plate, Blake said, “What do you want in a man?”

The question put her
into even more of a stunned state. This had to rank up there with the top five
most awkward moments in her life. Pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, she
tried to gain some since of composure. Mulling over his question, she couldn’t
help but admit it baffled her. But what could be the harm in answering?
“Confidence, but not arrogance. Arrogant men make my skin crawl.”

Blake shifted his focus
to her and laughed, then refocused on his meal. “And?”

“Motivation, but not
overly-ambitious. I want him to have time for me.”

“Understandable. Go on.”

Why was he so
interested in her dream man? “Gentle, but not a pushover.”

He glanced up at her.
“You want thug love?”

Eunice jostled him
playfully. “No, I don’t want thug love.” She stared into his eyes. “I just want
to feel protected.” Similar to how she’d felt in his arms when he’d held her
through the night.

“You certainly sound
like a woman who knows exactly what she wants.”

“I’ve had enough duds
to know what I
don’t
want.”

“Well, whoever he
is…he’ll be one lucky guy.”

Eunice smiled. Pushing
her plate away, she said, “About last night, Blake. Thank you for showing me
such kindness. And for listening.”

Blake placed his fork
down and shifted toward her. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to share something
so personal. I’m sorry I didn’t know what to say.”

“You said enough.”

The way he eyed her, as
if he were trying to read her mind, unnerved her. When Ian entered the room,
Blake broke their connection. She took the opportunity to steady her heartbeat.

“What’s up, Ian?” Blake
said.

“What’s up?” he mumbled
under his breath.

Blake eyed her, and she
shrugged. Ian’s ill mood had to have something to do with the blowup he and his
wife had had over the phone the night before.

“Everything all right,
Ian?” Blake asked.

Waving Blake’s words
off, he said, “Yeah, yeah.” He shoveled food onto a plate. “Remind me why in
the hell I got married.”

Blake arched a brow.
“Because you love your wife?”

Ian grumbled something
under his breath, moved to the table and took a seat. “Don’t ever let my
brother convince you to marry him. Stay single.”

Eunice laughed. An
image of Blake wearing a tux and standing at the altar filled her thoughts.
Shooing the illusion away, she said, “Okay.”

Blake tossed a piece of
bread at him. “Why would you plant something like that in her head?”

Ian ducked the bread
and laughed. “I’m telling mom you’re wasting food.”

“Snitch.”

Eunice shook her head
at the two grown mean acting like toddlers. This made her miss not having
siblings. “Blake, can we all go out on the lake later?”

Eunice caught the exchange
between Blake and Ian. What had the troubled glances meant?

Ian shook pepper on his
eggs. “Ah, I think dad said something about the boat needing servicing.”

“Yeah, I think he did,”
Blake said, standing. “I should shower before all of the warm water is used up.
Will you be okay?” he asked Eunice.

“Damn, I don’t bite,”
Ian said.

“Well, when you walked
in, you did look a little rabid,” Blake said.

Ian chuckled. “Sorry
about that. I hadn’t had my coffee.”

“I’ll be fine.” Blake
kissed her again, but this time on the cheek. Though it wasn’t what she’d
preferred, it still made her flesh tingle.

Once Blake was out of
the room, Ian turned his attention to her. “Are you ready for the party
tonight?”

Yes, she was. But she
ignored the question. “What was that about, Ian? Did something happen at the
lake?”

Ian pushed around the
eggs on his plate. “Blake hasn’t told you yet, I’m guessing.”

“Told me what?”

“About our grandfather.
The accident.”

Eunice shook her head.
“No, he hasn’t.”

“He will.” Ian pushed
away from the table, stood, and was gone.

How could he be so sure that Blake
would tell her? Had the statement Blake made to her about demons have to do
with whatever it was Ian wasn’t telling her? Were demons haunting Blake, as
well? She felt compelled to show him he didn’t have to fear his either?