Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (12 page)

“But I think most people are a little bit of
all those things.” Blake leaned forward, paying close attention to
what she said.

“Sometimes people can be, yes, but if all
those aspects of their personality are not already present, they
can’t really fake it very well. So you have to ask yourself, who
were you in your relationship with Dave?”

Blake sat back again and crossed his arms.
I was the guy he egged on, the one he envied. I was the guy who
made jokes and banged women.
“I don’t think I was a very good
friend.”

“That’s a pretty harsh judgment. Were you the
friend Dave needed? Was he the friend you needed?”

She was looking at him again in that way that
tied his stomach into knots, like she expected an insightful answer
that Blake didn’t know how to give. “How can I know that?” he
asked.

“Well, did you feel as though your friendship
was lacking something when Dave was alive, or are you just feeling
that way now? Grief can manifest in many ways, and it can skew our
memories.”

Damn, you’re good
. Was he skewing his
memories of their relationship? “I think we had a good
relationship. We enjoyed our time together—I enjoyed our time
together. I can’t really know if Dave did.”

“No, you can’t, and you can’t change the type
of friend you were to Dave, though I’d imagine you weren’t a bad
friend. Most people don’t hang around with people they don’t
enjoy.” Danica lifted her pen to her lips.
Oh, those lips
.
“Blake, is there a chance that Dave’s death is making you question
what kind of a friend you are in general? I mean to others, not
just Dave?”

He crossed his arms.

Danica set her pen on the desk and leaned
back in her chair. “You look like a bundle of hot wires ready to
short out. What are you thinking right this second? What are you
not saying?”

Anger squeezed his muscles tighter.

“I’m prying, and I realize that. But, Blake,
I’m not sure this is about not knowing Dave as much as it might be
about something bigger, like maybe not knowing yourself very
well.”

Blake let out a breath and said, “Okay, yeah.
I don’t have other friends. There, okay? That’s it. I’m not a guy
who people hang out with. I’m a guy women sleep with and who guys
have a random beer with, or ski with, or look at like I’m some kind
of magical creature because I can sleep with as many women as I
want.” His cheeks felt like they were on fire. He was a caged lion
in need of escape. He stood and paced next to the window, pissed
off that she could sit so calmly while his insides were fuming. “Is
that what you want to hear?”
Bitch
.

“This isn’t about me.” She sounded like a
teacher, a principal, a parole officer.

“Right. Maybe I made a mistake coming here.”
He ran his hand through his hair, then crossed his arms, staring
out the window.

“That’s completely up to you.”

“You sit there like you’re high and mighty,
like you don’t ever do shit that makes you feel like a bad person.”
He spun around and looked at Danica, sitting with her legs crossed,
leaning against the back of the chair. She looked calm, cool, and
collected, while his anger simmered to a boil.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. We all do
things that make us feel inadequate, and it’s totally normal to get
mad when we realize things we’d rather not see in ourselves.”

“Oh, so now I’m inadequate?” he seethed.

“No.” She smiled, but her eyes betrayed her.
They said something akin to,
Of course you are.

Blake crossed his arms and stared at her,
this time waiting for her to finish speaking. Putting her on the
spot.

“What I’m saying is that if you don’t like
who you were with Dave, you can’t change that, but you can change
those things you don’t like about yourself with regard to
friendships, or anything else for that matter.”

Blake grabbed his jacket from the hook and
said, “I think we’ve talked enough for today.”

Danica stood, her lips slightly parted, her
face soft, her eyes sweetly empathetic. “That’s fine. This is your
session.”

Blake had a sudden urge to take her in his
arms and kiss the high and mighty out of her. She was as sexy as
she was infuriating. Blake walked to the door and reached for the
handle. “Thank you.”

When she spoke, her voice was confident and
strong, “Blake, therapy is hard. Things usually get worse before
they get better.”

He turned to face her, one hand on his escape
route, the other clutching his jacket.

“You’re not here because you’re perfect.
You’re here because you wanted to deal with something. We’re
dredging up those things that may not be what you want to know
about yourself. Think of your mind like a garden. We’re tilling the
soil, bringing the buried stuff up to the surface—the mucky, hard,
rotting, forgotten things that have been hidden for probably far
too long. This is the hard part. Seeing it for what it is.”

Blake didn’t know what else to say. Even
though anger twisted and yanked at his muscles, he knew she was
right.

“It gets easier. I promise.”

He walked out the door without a word.

Shit!
It had been hours since his
therapy session with Danica and Blake still couldn’t shake the
tension that tugged at every nerve in his body. He sat on a bar
stool, nursing his fourth Jack and Coke, checking out the eye
candy. Most women who drank at five in the afternoon were either
waiting for a pack of noisy girlfriends or lonely old women hoping
to feel young again. Blake wasn’t sure he cared which kind of woman
he left the bar with, as long as he didn’t leave alone. He’d show
her
just how inadequate he was.

Pickings were sparse at Bar None. The redhead
in the corner had been eye-raping him for the past hour. He found
redheads to be aggressive, which he normally loved, but this time
his ego needed a long, luscious stroke. Playful and hot, that would
do it. He lifted his eyes to ESPN playing on the television above
the bar.

“Imagine meeting you here.”

Blake turned around to find Kaylie’s firm
breasts at eye level. The right side of his lips lifted into a
smile. “It's the only bar in town where tourists don’t flock. You
look like that and that’s the line you choose?” He laughed.

Kaylie climbed onto the stool next to him,
swinging her knees toward him. Her dark blue miniskirt barely
covered what Blake imagined she wore beneath: a lacy thong.

She leaned toward him. The want in her eyes
unveiled. “Buy me a drink?”

He lifted his glass in the direction of the
older, male bartender.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked with a
husky voice while he looked lasciviously at Kaylie.

Blake leaned possessively toward her.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Kaylie
answered. She twirled her hair around her index finger. “What are
you doing here?” she asked Blake. “Isn’t it a bit early for all
this?” She pointed to the empty glasses lined up beside him.

“Tough afternoon.” Blake could not take his
eyes off of the crest of her breasts, peeking out of her tight,
white, V-neck shirt.

“Yeah? Tell me about it. I just got back in
town from a wild concert. I’m whipped.” She took a drink. “That
hits the spot.”

“Are you meeting someone here?” Blake looked
around the bar, remembering the guy she’d left with the last time
he’d seen her.

“Nah.” She swatted her hand through the air.
“I was supposed to meet my sister, but she just called and gave me
some lame excuse about a hard day at work. So,” she shrugged, “I
figured I’d come in, relax awhile, then go home.”

“Sounds good to me.” Blake lowered his lids
and leaned in close when he spoke.
I’ve still got it
.

Kaylie giggled. “Yeah? Okay then.” She downed
the drink and held up the glass, asking for another. “So, tell me,
Blake,” she over pronounced the
B
, giving his name a
forceful tone, “why was your day so tough? Didn’t sell many
skis?”

Blake finished his drink in one gulp,
thinking about Danica and her smug look as he opened up to her.
“Just a painful meeting. Nothing to worry your pretty, little head
about.” The last thing he wanted to do was think about Danica.
Blake considered ordering one more drink, but he knew he was on the
verge of dropping over the edge, and with Kaylie in his sights, he
wanted to be on his game—for later.

“Ski shop owners have meetings?” She pressed
her knee against his thigh.

“Of sorts,” he said. He had nothing to do
with his hands. Without a drink, he longed to do something with
them. He draped his left arm around the back of her stool.

“Tell me what life is like for a ski shop
owner. I would imagine that it’s nothing but fun.”

His fingertips brushed against her back, and
she leaned into his hand. It was so easy for him. He could sleep
with her in the next five minutes if he wanted. Hell, he could slip
one hand up her skirt right now and she’d just wiggle so no one
else could see. Blake felt the familiar desire in his groin, but
his mind fell back to his session with Danica.
We all do things
that make us feel inadequate.
Damn her. He dropped his arm from
around Kaylie and ordered another drink.

“I just lost my business partner.” Why the
hell did he reveal that?

“Bummer. Did you guys have, like, a blowup? A
disagreement?”

“He died.” Blake took a swig of his
drink.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” Kaylie
put her hand on his leg.

Blake stared at her hand. He felt like the
epitome of the quintessential man with a devil on one shoulder and
an angel on the other, both whispering in his ear. “I miss him.”
Jesus. Why am I telling
her
this?
He didn’t want to
think about going into AcroSki tomorrow, or the day after, or even
the day after that, knowing Dave would never be there again.

“Aw, I’m sure you do. I can’t imagine what
that would be like.”

Her words oozed empathy, and Blake’s hard
exterior fell away like a snake shedding its skin. “I can’t even
talk to his wife. I have no idea what to say to her.” He had no
idea what was happening to him. When had he developed diarrhea of
the mouth—and worse, of his emotions? He looked at his glass. It
had to be the alcohol. He ran his hand through his hair—a
distraction from the heat beneath her palm.

“She probably just needs someone to tell her
everything will be okay.”

Blake wondered if it could be that easy.

“Seriously. I mean, you can’t fix it for her,
but you can be there, hug her, help her through by just being
around.”

“She won’t want me around. I’m just a
reminder that he’s gone, and…I never really spent a lot of time
with her. I mean, I had dinner with Dave and his family often
enough, but I don’t know.”
I never spend any real time with
anyone
.

She ran her index finger in circles on his
thigh, downed her drink, and ordered another. “I can’t imagine
anyone not wanting you around.” She licked her lips.

Blake looked at the mirror behind the bar.
The image staring back at him was the image he’d seen in the
bathroom mirror when he was with Red—a hungry, tired player who was
hiding from the things that mattered in life, even if he wasn’t
quite sure what they were. He didn’t want to be that person
anymore, and yet there he was, on the prowl. He looked over at
Kaylie’s reflection, with her puppy-dog eyes, hanging on to his
every word. Then he thought of his meeting with Danica and how
she’d listened without trying to fix him. She’d just let him work
through his emotions, bring them all out on the table. And she
didn’t judge him or tell him he was a shitty friend.
We all do
things that make us feel inadequate. All
being the key word.
And, he commended himself, he
was
trying to change.

Kaylie leaned in close and whispered, “Wanna
go back to my place? I’ll help you feel better.”

“Absofuckinglutely,” he said out of habit,
but he didn’t move.

Kaylie stood and reached for his hand.

She was gorgeous, willing, and certainly
able, but if he went home with her, he’d be starting at square one.
Blake imagined her naked body beneath him, the taste of her on his
lips, and his desire intensified. He looked in the mirror again as
he stood up.
Same guy, different day
.

He closed his eyes for a second, then turned
to Kaylie and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to pass.”
Shit. Can I really do this?

Kaylie’s jaw dropped open. “Excuse me?” She
turned her head sideways, placing her ear closer to his mouth, like
she hadn’t heard him right.

“I’m sorry. You’re gorgeous, you're great to
talk to, but honestly, I’m dealing with some shit right now, and
this,” he moved his hand between them, “this won’t help it
any.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her cheeks
flushed with anger.

“I have no idea.” Blake turned back toward
the bar. “But I’m trying to figure that out.”

“You have issues, Blake. Jesus Christ. You
need a shrink or something. First you turn me down the other night,
and now you lead me on and—”

His heart ached when he saw the liquid anger
in her squinted eyes. “It’s not you, okay? It’s me. I just can’t do
this anymore.”

“My sister’s a shrink. She can probably help
you with your bullshit issues.” Kaylie laughed.

Blake saw through her laugh to her hurt. “I’m
sorry. You’re right. I do have bullshit issues. Oh, and I already
have a shrink.”

“Yeah, well, Danica is probably ten times
better.” She grabbed her coat from the back of her stool and
stomped out of the bar.

Danica? Her sister?
Blake’s pulse
raced like he’d just dodged a bullet.