As the door flies open, so does my mouth. Blake is standing in front of me, shirtless, wearing only his red and navy plaid pajama bottoms, bare feet on the floor. His light brown hair is all over the place, but incredibly sexy as it falls messily over his forehead and flips out from behind his ears. One look at this man’s stomach renders me momentarily speechless, and I have to fight to keep myself from running my hands over every single hardened ridge of his abs. So instead, I place my hands over my open mouth and start giggling like a ten year old little girl.

Mid-giggle, I notice the door starting to close. I quickly jump into action. I immediately put my foot in the doorjamb and my hands on the door, using all of my weight to keep him from being able to close it – a trick he taught me by the way.

Shaking his head at me through the opening that I’m desperately trying to maintain, Blake emphatically states, “Nope. Mmm-mm, Alex. It’s too early for this right now. Go home.”

I start to say something when he cuts me off. “There can’t possibly be anything left for you to say after the drunken tantrum you threw last night. You remember? The one you decided to throw in the middle of a bar? The one in which you embarrassed the shit out of yourself? Very classy by the way…”

Jeez…obviously I wasn’t the only one who got zero sleep last night.

“Blake, ple–” I start to say, but as I try to push as hard as I can to keep the door open, he shoves the door making progress in his attempt to shut it and I’m thrown backward a bit, cutting off my words. “I don’t want to talk right now, Alex.” I push back with all of my might.

“Well…too bad. You need to hear what I have to say, Blake!”

Quickly turning my back to the door, I push as hard as I can, using my legs for strength. I extend my arm and wrap my fingers around the side, to get a better grip. Unfortunately, at the same time, Blake finally manages to slam it shut.

I swear I hear four separate crunches before I can get the words out of my mouth.

“Blake! My fingers! Damn it, open the door! Now!” I’m sure my fingers have fallen straight to the floor. I don’t even want to look.

The door jerks open and I hastily pull my throbbing fingers to the safety of my chest. Moisture gathers in my eyes as I move my hand in front of my face to examine the now very red, very flattened sections of my fingers where the door caught. My whole arm is shaking as the pain pulsates clear up to my shoulder. I pull it back into my chest and protectively cover it with my other hand, and turn to glare at Blake through the tears.

“Shit, Alex. Let me look at ‘em,” Blake says angrily. I’m not sure if he is mad at me or at himself for hurting my hand. But just in case, I continue my glare. He whips open the door and steps out onto the porch.

Oh.

My.

God.

He looks even more gorgeous in the sunlight. Almost like that day on the lake, with the sun peeking through his messy hair. If I wasn’t in excruciating pain right now, I would be really enjoying the view.

Alex, control yourself.

I attempt to clear my mind from all potentially naughty thoughts. Then I remember my situation and gather my wits.

“Really, Blake? What the hell?” I ask in annoyance. “I get that you’re pissed, but can you at least act like an adult about it? Slamming the door in my face? Real mature, jerk.” I try bending my fingers. They’re stiff, but I can bend them a bit. I grimace and suck in a breath as pain shoots up my arm.

“Really? You want to talk about mature right now? After last night? You want to go there?”

I have no witty retort, so I just look at him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, holding out his hand. His voice softens. “Just let me look at them, Alex.”

I timidly hold my hand out for his inspection. He’s surprisingly gentle as he takes my hand and holds it in front of his face, looking closely at my fingers. I can feel his warm breath hitting the palm of my hand. I let out a small breath of air and briefly let myself look at his eyes while he examines my fingers. I forgot how beautiful they were. A cross between very light brown and olive green. As I stand, staring at him…he looks up, catches my gaze and holds it. Determined not to lose this battle, I continue to look at him until he breaks away.

“You need to get some ice on them. Come on. I’ll get you something,” he says, stepping aside so I can enter his house, still holding my hand.

“It’s fine, Blake. I’m just going to go. I think enough damage has been done,” I say, knowing I mean this in a way that doesn’t pertain to my fingers. I extract my hand from his and turn to walk to my car, lump forming in my throat. I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. Some things just can’t be repaired. I know this better than anyone…I should be the poster girl for irreparable damage.

I take a step to leave when I feel Blake’s hand hook my good hand. “Alex, don’t. Let me get you some ice.” I feel an electrical pulse pass through my body as his fingers slide up to wrap around my wrist, pulling me into his house. I follow him as he leads me into the kitchen. He pulls out a bar stool from under the counter and motions with his hand for me to sit down. Not until I’m seated does he let go of my wrist to walk into the kitchen. He grabs a plastic bag out of a drawer and starts to fill it with ice from the freezer. I can’t help but watch the muscles in his back working as he deposits the ice into the bag. He turns, disrupting my insane thoughts, and brings the ice back to where I’m sitting. He takes my hurt hand, tenderly placing it in his own, and sets the bag on top of my fingers.

We sit in silence, probably because we’re both too stubborn to be the first to break. But, knowing I came here to make amends for some things, I willingly, for the record, break first.

“Listen, I just wanted to come by to say I’m really sorry about last night, Blake. Things have been a little stressful over the last couple of days and I’m dealing with a lot right now. And seeing you the other day…well, it just threw me. Then you helped me and… honestly, it’s been a long time since someone has helped me like that. Except Harlow of course, but that’s kind of her main job right now.” I laugh softly at my joke. Blake does not. So I keep going.

“Blake, you have to understand that it’s hard for me to accept help sometimes. It isn’t easy for me to admit that I need help, but I needed help that day. So, not only were you incredibly blessed with having the opportunity to help me that morning, I’m sure ruining whatever plans you had for the day, but you were also the victim of my misdirected anger last night simply because of the help you provided.”

How many times did I just say help? One hundred?

“I guess you can say that I have issues with help in general,” I joke to him. I decide to just stop talking. I know I’m completely rambling; I do that when I’m nervous.

I make sure I look him directly in the eyes during my explanation. Unfortunately, there is absolutely, positively, no response that I can read on his face.

Um, I guess my apologies need upgrading too? I decide to give it one more try.

“I’m sorry Blake. Do you think we can just start over? Forget the last couple of days?”

I continue to watch his expression. He lets out a deep sigh.

“Listen, Alex. You need to know something. I didn’t come here for you. I didn’t come back to help you, or save you, or take care of you. I feel that I need to say that. I didn’t come here to be your hero or to carry you away on a white horse. I came here solely to help my family.”

Sarcasm duly noted.

“My father’s retiring and I need to decide what I’m going to do with his business. I might take it over, I might sell it, I haven’t decided yet. Regardless, my coming back had nothing to do with you. ”