Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(88)

“You know that thing people do where they manipulate the muscles in another person’s shoulders and neck?” she’d say, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

“A massage?” Rake would ask.

And her face would light up in mock surprise. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you to offer. Yes, thank you,” she’d say, pulling her hair to the side and sighing in pleasure as he worked the muscles. She’d eventually clamber up to the couch, pushing her feet into his sides until he started rubbing those too, smiling the entire time as she talked about her day.

At night, he’d love her, devoting himself to pleasuring every inch of her body. She was radiant, lighting up the dark room like the moon glowed through her, her freckles constellations across her skin.

Rake couldn’t name the exact moment, but at some point, Lizzie had become painfully real to him. She wasn’t some fun indulgence, some wild mystical being that lived beyond the scope of real life. She was flesh and blood and pain and determination, and the dimensions of her were so vast and deep, Rake didn’t know what to do with himself. All he knew was that he cherished her in a way that scared him to pieces.

One Saturday afternoon, Rake stood in the kitchen, grating an endless stack of carrots for a carrot cake Lizzie was baking. She’d run to the market on the corner, saying she absolutely could not go another second without tater tots and would be back soon to pick up where she left off on the recipe.

Rake was exhausted but glad to be doing something that wasn’t work-related. An ad campaign had fallen through with Nordstrom that week, and Dominic was on a new level of berating the team, having everyone working close to twelve-hour days to find an alternative that would have a similar market impact.

A call rang on Rake’s phone, trilling through the Bluetooth speaker he’d been playing music on. He glanced at the screen, Dominic’s name flashing across. With a sigh, he quickly wiped off his fingers with a towel then answered the call.

“Hi, Dominic,” he said, returning to his grating and letting the call go through his speakers.

“Rake. Got a minute? I’ve got some news.”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“I’ve been working on Nicholás from Nordstrom’s, trying to get him to reconsider, and I’ve made some headway. But he wants a meeting over dinner. My wife and I are meeting him and his wife at Barclay Prime at seven thirty on Monday, and I need you there.”

Rake blinked, taking that in. He set down the carrot and grater, placing both palms on the counter as he stared at the speaker. This had the potential to be huge for him. He’d been poised to make a generous commission on the project, and seeing it successfully executed could potentially put him in Dominic’s good graces.

“That sounds great,” Rake said, his mind already creating a to-do list to get ready, things he’d need to prepare. “I’ll talk to Lizzie, but there shouldn’t be a problem in us being there. Do you want to meet at seven to go over a few things before dinner starts?”

Dominic was quiet for a moment, then rumbling laughter crackled through the speaker.

“You can’t be serious,” he said at last.

Rake frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“That redhead from the launch with her tits hanging out?” Dominic said, still chuckling.

Rake’s mouth opened, the words humming around his skull but not making sense.

“Listen, Rake,” Dominic continued, all humor gone from his voice. “I know I’m hard on you, but it’s because I think you have potential. But that’s if you play your cards right. And that includes exuding a certain sense of refinement. Parading around someone like that … well, let’s just say it’s not the best look.”

Rake continued to stare at the speaker, speechless.

Dominic sighed. “I pulled a lot of strings to get this dinner, so make sure you’re focused, yeah? I need you clearheaded and ready to lead. If this goes the way we want it, I imagine there will be a title change and bonus in your future.”

“I … uh.”

“It’s nothing against her,” Dominic continued, the tone of his voice indicating his attention was elsewhere. “Just use your head.”

“I’ll … I’ll take care of it.” Rake cringed.

“Good. We’ll talk more on Monday,” Dominic said, then hung up.

Rake continued to stare at the speaker, feeling like an absolute prick.

The whole conversation had derailed, and he’d felt incapable of processing it in real time. And what was he supposed to say? He needed to keep his job. He needed to make and save as much money as possible in preparation for the baby. He couldn’t jeopardize that by challenging Dominic, no matter how out of line he was.

When things calmed down with the company and Rake felt more secure in his position, he’d have a talk with Dominic about how he spoke about Lizzie. He’d make it right when the timing was better.

Rake hung his head, still feeling like an asshole.

And that’s when he heard a sniff and the soft padding of feet toward the kitchen.

Panic flooded Rake. Lizzie was home? He hadn’t heard her come in. His head jerked up, his gaze fixing on her watery eyes.

“Lizzie,” he whispered.

Lizzie cleared her throat, fixing her face into the saddest smile Rake had ever seen. “Have a great dinner,” she said, tossing her bag of frozen tater tots on the counter.