But what would she do? Volunteer maybe? Were there art programs for disadvantaged kids? That sounded like something she could throw herself into, something she would enjoy.
An idea dawned and she stood, practically ran to the tiny desk in the corner of her studio. Grabbing a notebook and a pen, she scribbled furiously, taking notes so she wouldn’t forget.
If there were no art programs for young kids, then she would create one. She had enough money in trust and her father would wholeheartedly approve, considering how it would fit into the image he was constantly trying to create her into. He’d probably ask her why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.
Better late than never, she mused as she studied her chicken scratch writing. Maybe she had Mason to thank. For making her open her eyes and really see the direction she was taking herself.
Absolutely nowhere and completely miserable while doing it.
Her cell phone rang and she grabbed it, paused when she saw the number was blocked. Frowning, she answered it anyway. “Hello.”
Silence greeted her.
“Helloooo?” Again nothing, so she hung up. Within seconds, the phone started ringing again and this time, she said nothing when she answered.
And heard heavy breathing on the other end.
“Who the hell is this?” She rolled her eyes. Had she ever had a breather call her before? Pervert.
A weird giggle sounded in her ear. “Blake?” The voice was falsely high pitched, almost as if it had been distorted.
Icy dread slipped down her spine. “Who is this?”
“Can you come out and play?” Another giggle. “Please, Miss Blake? You’re so pretty. I want to play with you.”
She hung up with shaking fingers, dropping the phone onto her desk as if it burned her. Her number was unlisted and she gave it out to only a few people. So who the hell was calling her?
Blowing it off as a wrong number was impossible, considering the person called her by name…
Her cell rang yet again and she stared at the screen and she saw it was her father. She hadn’t talked to him in a couple of days. But did she really want to talk to him now? Especially after that last phone call? No way could she tell him. She needed to let Mason know first.
Deciding to get it over with, she answered, striving for chipper.
“Blake! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.” Her father’s voice was full of concern—and not a trace of anger. Strange, especially considering the call she’d just received.
“I’m fine, Daddy.” Her voice was shaky, a residual effect leftover from the weird caller. She hoped her father didn’t notice. “I haven’t been anywhere but here.”
Naked in Mason’s arms for the last few days, but she certainly wasn’t going to mention that particular bit of information. She’d been too distracted to bother with answering her phone or even leaving the house.
“I’ve called a few times but you never answer.”
Why didn’t he sound mad? She didn’t get it. “I guess I’ve been distracted. I’m sorry. I’ll pay better attention, I promise.”
“Oh, Blake.” He sighed and she swore she could hear him shaking his head over the phone. He probably was. “I’m not angry. Just concerned. I worry when I don’t hear from you.”
Did he really? She figured he was too occupied with his campaign to worry about her. “Have you talked to Mason?”
“Of course. I’m in daily contact with Agent Russell. I just thought maybe you might call me.”
“I know you’re very busy.”
“It’s been incredibly busy but exciting too. Things are looking good, sweetheart. Real good.”
The endearment touched her even though she knew it shouldn’t. It was pointless to get her hopes up only to have them dashed and smashed.
“I’m happy for you, Daddy,” she said softly, doodling on the notepad in front of her. Drawing little hearts with her initials and Mason’s in them.
She scratched them out furiously, slashed over them again and again. So silly.