“Is it Grant? I’ll come with you,” Jen said, her brow furrowed.
Blake shook his head. “It’s not Grant. It’s...something at work.” Even as he said it, a little voice inside his head chastised him. It was a sneaky way to get around it. Not a lie, but not the truth. Yet, he imagined her reaction if he told her.
“So you’re just going to leave? For work?” she asked, incredulous. “It’s Saturday. Can’t the guys get on without you?”
“Were you not in there just now?” Blake said, motioning toward the dining room.
Jen crossed her arms over her chest, emphasizing her curves in the sleek, black gown. “He was just joking, giving you a hard time. You know how he is.”
“Oh come on.” Blake scoffed and ran a hand over his face. Was she really this clueless? “He hates me, and he was trying to make me feel small.”
Jen frowned. “That’s not true. He wouldn’t—”
“It’s ent
irely true. The least you could’ve done was stopped him or defended me and told everyone at the table how your dad practically demanded I prove myself or don’t marry you. Instead, he made it sound like I’m doing this as a side job because my business sucks.”
“That’s not what he was doing.”
“Okay.” Blake laughed and rolled his head on his neck. But he couldn’t let it go. “When are you going to wake up and see that they don’t accept me? And they probably never will.”
She shook her head. “Even if that were true, as soon as we’re married, you can work for my father’s company. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about what he thinks of you or your business.”
Blake flinched like he’d been slapped. He blinked over at her, shock and anger fighting for precedence. Surely she was joking.
But she continued to stare at him, straight-faced and completely serious.
Grant had been right, and Blake was too blind to see it. He said as much at the coffee shop the day Mel came barreling in there like a hurricane.
“I’ve never agreed to take a job from your father. I love what I do,” Blake said, pointing at his chest and finding his voice. “And if you loved me, you’d know that there’s no way I’d give up my business. I’ve built B’s Bikes from the ground up. It’s my passion. It’s in my soul. Bikes are in my blood. It was my therapy when I was a fourteen-year-old kid with no direction and no one but my brother had time for me. Maybe it’s not some glamorous job on Wall Street, and I don’t own a giant hotel conglomerate like your family, but it’s mine.”
“Blake.” She reached out, her expression and tone impatient like she was placating a child.
“Someone who loved me would know it would kill me to give that up,” he said.
Jen glanced at the ground and squeezed the bridge of her nose on a sigh. “I know. You’re right, and of course, I don’t want you to give it up. I never said that. I merely suggested...” She trailed off and stepped toward him, grasping his arms in her small hands, a pleading look in her eye. “You know I love you. I don’t even know why I said it. I just didn’t want you to be upset, and I don’t want you to leave.”
His pulse pounded in his temples. “Because it looks bad for you? Or because you truly want me here?”
Jen’s mouth opened, but she hesitated for the merest of moments before she said, “You know I want you here.”
But her hesitation was telling. It spoke more than words.
Do I? Blake wanted to ask. Did he know that she wanted him there? Would he ever be good enough? Because he didn’t feel like it. Tonight confirmed the way he felt since the moment he met her. Part of him wished he could be the kind of man she needed in that moment, one strong enough to go back in and face her father, or one who wouldn’t need to defend himself in the first place.
But he wasn’t, so he said none of those things. Instead, he glanced down at Jen, at her chiseled cheekbones, her creamy skin, and bright blue eyes, and said, “I’m sorry, but if I go back in there, my storming away will just be one more thing for him to goad me with. I have to go.” He held up his phone—his excuse and took a step back.
Jen’s shoulders slumped, and the hope in her eyes vanished. She let go of Blake’s arms, her face an unreadable mask as she smoothed a hand down her gown, inhaling a deep breath he knew was in preparation for facing them.
And he felt a pang of guilt, but not strong enough to stop him from leaving. She’d have to face her father and all his guests alone. Blake could only imagine the conversation being whispered at the dining table at that very moment. He wondered what excuse Jen would make.
He reached forward and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I’ll call you later?”
When she simply nodded, he turned and left, and all he felt was relief. And he wondered the entire way to Mel’s place what that meant, being happy to leave Jen’s side and go to Mel’s aide—a woman who barely knew him, yet needed him just the same.
He told himself it was merely gratitude at the excuse to leave the dinner party, that it had nothing to do with Mel herself, and by the time he pulled up to her apartment building, he almost believed it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN