Who You Least Expect (4 page)

The undercurrent that had been running between Blake and Matt faded, and in its place arose a fierce, tight discomfort that put Cody on edge, which was unusual. The older man looked down at Poole expectantly, but Matt didn’t move an inch, didn’t acknowledge the other man’s presence or even act in a way that suggested he might do so.

The moment stretched, the tension rising with each excruciating second, and Cody alternately felt charged with the energy of the moment and a bit like he was intruding on something private that he had no business witnessing.

“How are you, Mr. Poole?” Blakely finally said, breaking the silence, though in no way alleviating the tension.

Matt still sat rigid, but his father broke his gaze and turned to Blakely and gave her an affectionate smile, effectively ending the impromptu standoff.

“Well, Blakely,” he whispered. “I’m doing well. Thank you for asking. Good to see you back in town.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

“And how are your parents?” Mr. Poole asked.

It was Blakely’s turn to go rigid, and at the other man’s question, Matt finally moved, glancing at Blakely with the same concern that she’d used with him. Yep, those two definitely had a history, and at the first opportunity, Cody planned to find out how deep it went.

“Fine,” she said stiffly, turning away from Matt and his father and looking at Cody.

He lifted one corner of his mouth in what he hoped was a commiserating smile, and though her expression remained grim, Cody could see a faint hint of appreciation in her honey-brown eyes.

“Well, nice to run into you. Both of you,” Matt’s father said, and then he turned and walked away to sit at a table on the opposite side of the restaurant.

Grim silence remained in the man’s wake.

“Home sweet home,” Blakely said quietly, and the tension lifted.

Matt laughed and she joined in.

“Yeah, probably not the best time to extoll the virtues of Thornehill, eh?”

“That’s your thing, not mine,” she said, still smiling.

“Not today.” His smile dropped as he glanced over at the table where his father sat. “My appetite’s gone, but we’re going to talk, really talk, soon, BB.” He pinned her with a stare as he stood.

She said nothing but again looked toward Cody.

“I think I’ll stick around,” Cody said. “If BB doesn’t mind,” he finished with another smirk.

Exhaling a disgusted-sounding sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Your call.”

Matt turned and left and Cody was finally alone with Blakely Bishop.

“So, you and Poole know each other?”

For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to respond, but then she said, “Everyone knows each other here. Another joy of small-town living.”

She sounded so positively miserable, he had a mind to ask why she stayed, but for some reason held back, instead following the current tack of the conversation.

“Yeah, but you two seem like more than people who live in the same town. Pretty friendly.”

His words were laden with suggestion, which Blakely stridently ignored.

“We went to school together.” She narrowed her eyes and a slight smile played on her lips. “Are you digging for information, Sommers?”

“If I am?”

“You won’t get any. I’m very direct, and as I said, I don’t play games.”

“Did you and Poole date?” he asked.

“None of your business,” she responded.

He couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you were direct?” he said.

“I am, and I very directly didn’t answer your question.”

“So you’re going to play this all mysterious,” he said, leaning back, excited by the fun of the interaction.

“Typical man. You don’t listen. As I said last night, I don’t ‘play’ anything,” she said.

“And if last night proved nothing else, it definitively established you very much enjoy playing.”

She quirked a brow but didn’t deny his words.

He turned serious. “But as much as it would sadden me, I can’t play against my own team. So do I have anything to be worried about?”

She kept her eyes on him, her gaze swirling with mischievousness, something that incongruously alleviated most of his concerns.

“How old are you, anyway?” she asked, changing the subject without answering his question.

“Old enough, baby,” he said smoothly.

She laughed out loud again, her entire face transforming, the beauty of her features taking his breath.

“You should laugh more. It suits you.”

“Well, you’ll just have to make me, won’t you?” she said.

••••

Breakfast with Blakely had been just as fun as their time at Mason’s. She was still her prickly self, but she was also warm, funny, surprising, and exciting. He’d wanted to kiss her, take her out of the restaurant and finish what they’d started last night. And they would, and soon.

There was just one small matter to take care of first.

As he sat in his jeep, he dialed the number from memory and received a gruffed-out, “Poole,” when his friend answered after the second ring.

“Poole. It’s Sommers. You have a minute?”

“Go ahead,” Poole said, voice taking that unique soldier-mixed-with-doctor tone that he sometimes couldn’t help but slip into. A hazard of his job, Cody supposed.

“It’s not business,” he said. “I just have a question for you.”

“Shoot,” Poole said, his voice now relaxed.

“What’s Blakely Bishop to you?”

The silence on the other end of the line stirred a twisting churn in Cody’s gut, and he wished he had waited to have this conversation in person. The idea that Blakely belonged to another, a man he considered a brother no less, had Cody’s heart pounding. Her answers, or rather nonanswers, in the restaurant had allayed his fears somewhat since she didn’t strike him as the type to play with others’ emotions. Now, though, he wasn’t so sure. He hoped not, prayed not, but if that was the case, he’d get over it, wouldn’t dare step on another man’s territory no matter how much he knew with every fiber of his being that he and Blakely could have something special, or at least quite diverting.

“Well?” Cody finally said when the silence had stretched for so long he didn’t think Mathias planned to answer.

“I could ask why you want to know, but that seems obvious.”

“Poole…” Cody said on a half sigh, half chuckle. He would lay down his life for the man, for any of the guys, really, but that didn’t mean that Poole’s maddening tendency to talk in circles didn’t sometimes rankle. He’d been tempted to take a shot at the guy a time or two, but his five-inch height advantage and extra fifty pounds of muscle—Cody often teased him about working out so hard just to sit behind a desk—and Cody’s respect for the man had held him back.

Poole laughed. “It’s just…complicated. Blakely is important to me, and I don’t want to see her jerked around.”

Cody understood the implication and didn’t even bother to pretend offense. There was no need. He was honest about what he did and who he was. He played hard and often, but only with those who wouldn’t do something like get their hearts involved, and with Blakely, he didn’t suspect that would be an issue.

“She’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

“You don’t know the half. But if you’re asking whether Blakely and I are involved or were, the answer is no. Do I have half a mind to pull rank and order you to stay the hell away from her? The answer is yes.”

That was a strong statement from Poole, one that Cody knew he couldn’t take lightly. However, he chose to keep it to himself that now that he knew Poole and Blake weren’t involved, the only way his friend would be able to keep him away was if he did pull rank.

“Fair enough,” Cody said. “But as long as I’m not stepping in on something between you two, I think I can take care of the rest.”

“Yeah, well, for what it’s worth, that would be as much for your benefit as hers. And just in case I haven’t been clear, my money’s on Blake. She’s not like the girls who hang around the base looking to snare a SEAL. I love her like my own blood, but she’s a tough one, so watch yourself, Sommers.”

Poole paused and silence filled the line, which only underscored the seriousness of his words. “She can take care of herself and will, so I probably don’t need to say this, but if you hurt her…”

“Got it,” Cody said. He appreciated that Poole cared about her, but now that he knew there was no romantic tie, whatever happened between him and Blakely would be between the two of them. “I was a little iffy before but now I like this town a lot more,” he said after a few moments of silence.

Matt laughed. “Let’s see how you feel when Blake’s done with you. You going to Joe’s next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Especially not when he knew there was a high probability that Ms. Bishop would be there, not that he planned to wait that long to see her.

“Good. See you then.”

Cody and Matt said their good-byes, and Cody headed home, thoughts of Blakely Bishop and how much he looked forward to getting to know her better filling his head.

Chapter Four

A few days later, Blakely awoke and tried to ignore the sticky pit of dread that had formed in her stomach. She was fine. Everything was fine. She repeated the thoughts on a loop as she got up and prepared for the morning, taking even longer than usual to select the day’s wardrobe. She reached for the black summer wool but then reconsidered, settling on the cream linen paired with an ice-blue silk blouse. The garment reminded her of Cody’s eyes, a connection that made her smile and gave her the little rev she needed to get going.

Not that she had any plans or anywhere to be in particular, but as she glanced around again, she knew that staying home wasn’t an option. One hour later, after she’d showered and dressed, taking the time to ensure that her appearance was meticulous, she heard something that drew her to the front door.

It was a vehicle, one that sounded as if it was pulling into her driveway. Her heart rate spiked and she quickly headed toward the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, wasn’t up for company and couldn’t imagine who would come to her house unannounced. Frowning, she peeped out of her window, that sticky dread that she’d felt this morning roaring back with twice the intensity when she saw her visitor. And that dread turned to panic when the occupant of the fifteen-year-old minivan emerged and began walking toward the porch. Blakely’s heart dropped and her thoughts rushed frantically as she searched for what to do. Her car wasn’t in the garage, it was in the driveway, so she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t home, but she couldn’t let her visitor in either.

On impulse, she grabbed her purse and opened the door just as the woman reached the porch.

“Blakely Mayree! Come give me a hug!” her mama said, her voice just the same as she’d remembered it from childhood save the slight waver that had come with age.

“Oh. Hey, Mama,” she said, trying to feign surprise though her voice sounded guilty to her own ear.

She moved quickly and gave the older version of herself what she hoped passed as an embrace and then stepped back, effectively blocking the porch. If her mother noticed, she didn’t show it, and instead smiled at Blakely so wide it looked like her face might hurt, happiness shining clear in her eyes.

The expression gutted her, made the fact that she couldn’t let her mother enter her home but wasn’t brave enough to say why hurt that much more.

“Well, let’s go sit. You can show me the house,” her mother said.

“I w-was headed out, going to get breakfast. Come with me,” she responded quickly.

She wasn’t excited about the prospect of sharing a meal with her mother in public but that was far preferable to letting her inside the house.

“You know me and Daddy eat first thing, honey.”

“Oh, well, why don’t we go to town? I think it’s swap meet today,” Blakely said.

Her mother’s smile got even brighter, and Blakely felt about an inch tall.

“I’d love to, but I know you hate the swap,” she said.

Hate was an understatement. Watching people haggle over used junk like they were negotiating billion-dollar mergers was bad enough, but the thought of someone actually taking that secondhand stuff that had been God knew where into their homes, let it be among their things, made her skin crawl. But Blakely just shrugged noncommittally. “It’s fine. And besides, I haven’t been since I got back.”

“You wanna drive? We can fit more stuff in your car,” her mother said, turning to face Blakely’s pristinely empty vehicle.

“Uh, let’s walk. It’s a nice day out,” she said quickly.

It was already seventy-five degrees, and Blakely knew she’d be a sweaty mess in ten minutes flat, but her mother couldn’t ride in her car, and she sure as hell was not getting into that minivan.

“Okay, sweetie. It’ll give us extra time to catch up.”

Her mother went to the van, and after rummaging in the back, pulled out a four-wheeled cart. Blakely could barely keep herself from groaning. The idea of walking across Thornehill Springs with her mother and that damned cart and then back with whatever crap she would fill it with made her cringe. But there was no alternative, and besides, she’d resolved to not let what people thought matter, so she gritted her teeth and tried to focus on her mother, who, despite everything, she loved very deeply and had missed.