Chapter One
Watch Your Step. That was what the little sign read. She’d seen it a million times. But today, Blaise Blankenship wasn’t watching. She was rummaging for her bus pass in her overstuffed purse. Her foot caught on the riser and down she went on her hands and knees. “Oof!”
Her purse spilled, and items flew everywhere on the floor of the bus. Loose change, pens, even an errant tampon rolled out. Her cheeks hot, Blaise snatched it and stuffed it back in her purse. As soon as she got home, her first chore would be reorganizing the jumble.
She scrambled to her feet while the driver and another passenger helped pick up her things. The driver frowned, his concern obvious as he handed her some coins. “You all right, Blaise?”
Except for a sore knee and some wounded pride, sure. She sighed. “I’m fine, Larry. Thanks.”
“Uh, miss.” Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to find an olive-complexioned man with eyes the rich color of coffee beans looking at her. His strong nose fit the rest of his masculine features, as did the hint of a cleft in his chin. She flushed again, though not from embarrassment. The quick eye contact stirred feelings that had been slumbering—more like hibernating—for quite a while.
Blaise smiled. “Hello.”
The man smiled and held out her wallet. “You dropped this.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” Sure she was bright red now, she swiveled away and pulled the bus pass from her purse. As she showed it to Larry, she caught his knowing look and gave him a mock glare. “Not one word out of you.”
He chuckled softly while she backed into her usual spot, the first seat behind the driver. Because of her preferred seating, Larry often joked that she was the official greeter for Bus 158. She’d taken this route so often going to and from work that she knew all the regulars.
But when Blaise sat, it wasn’t the hard plastic bus seat under her behind. She’d settled on someone’s thighs. She yelped and jumped up as though her ass were on fire. She whirled to see the dark-eyed man, who looked as surprised as she felt.
Well, if she looked like that, she looked pretty freaking funny. Blaise burst into laughter. Just what she needed to end her day. “I’m sorry,” she said, once she’d caught her breath. “We were almost really close friends there for a minute.”
His mouth quirked with amusement. “No apology needed. It’s not every day a pretty lady sits on my lap.”
Silly, but the pretty lady thing gave her butterflies. How long had it been since a man actually noticed her, much less gave her a compliment? She was forty-four years old. Though she was in good shape and no gray hair had yet sprung through her auburn mop, at her age the compliments came few and far between.
Or maybe it was the flicker in his eyes that made her stomach flutter. Had that been a spark of interest?
More likely sexual deprivation making you imagine things that aren’t there.
“Not your day, huh, Blaise?” Larry eyed her in the rearview mirror as she took an open seat up front.
“Guess not.” Her smile felt lopsided, but she didn’t know how to fix it.
It wasn’t like her to second-guess herself. Blaise was very happy with her life in Summit, New York. She had a cozy little apartment, a job she loved, and a beautiful daughter of whom she was very proud. She even had said daughter’s upcoming wedding to look forward to. There was nothing to complain of and much to give her joy.
She even enjoyed taking the bus to and from work every day. As the “official greeter,” Blaise often said hello to folks she’d come to know. She’d ask Mrs. Petrelli about her son in the Air Force, chat with Eddie about his courses at the community college, and listen to Mr. Weedemeyer’s stories about his dog Sam. The regulars on Bus 158 were a bit like family.
Of course, no one was more important than her daughter Ashlynn. Though the courtship was something of a whirlwind romance, Blaise was
Watch Your Step. That was what the little sign read. She’d seen it a million times. But today, Blaise Blankenship wasn’t watching. She was rummaging for her bus pass in her overstuffed purse. Her foot caught on the riser and down she went on her hands and knees. “Oof!”
Her purse spilled, and items flew everywhere on the floor of the bus. Loose change, pens, even an errant tampon rolled out. Her cheeks hot, Blaise snatched it and stuffed it back in her purse. As soon as she got home, her first chore would be reorganizing the jumble.
She scrambled to her feet while the driver and another passenger helped pick up her things. The driver frowned, his concern obvious as he handed her some coins. “You all right, Blaise?”
Except for a sore knee and some wounded pride, sure. She sighed. “I’m fine, Larry. Thanks.”
“Uh, miss.” Someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to find an olive-complexioned man with eyes the rich color of coffee beans looking at her. His strong nose fit the rest of his masculine features, as did the hint of a cleft in his chin. She flushed again, though not from embarrassment. The quick eye contact stirred feelings that had been slumbering—more like hibernating—for quite a while.
Blaise smiled. “Hello.”
The man smiled and held out her wallet. “You dropped this.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” Sure she was bright red now, she swiveled away and pulled the bus pass from her purse. As she showed it to Larry, she caught his knowing look and gave him a mock glare. “Not one word out of you.”
He chuckled softly while she backed into her usual spot, the first seat behind the driver. Because of her preferred seating, Larry often joked that she was the official greeter for Bus 158. She’d taken this route so often going to and from work that she knew all the regulars.
But when Blaise sat, it wasn’t the hard plastic bus seat under her behind. She’d settled on someone’s thighs. She yelped and jumped up as though her ass were on fire. She whirled to see the dark-eyed man, who looked as surprised as she felt.
Well, if she looked like that, she looked pretty freaking funny. Blaise burst into laughter. Just what she needed to end her day. “I’m sorry,” she said, once she’d caught her breath. “We were almost really close friends there for a minute.”
His mouth quirked with amusement. “No apology needed. It’s not every day a pretty lady sits on my lap.”
Silly, but the pretty lady thing gave her butterflies. How long had it been since a man actually noticed her, much less gave her a compliment? She was forty-four years old. Though she was in good shape and no gray hair had yet sprung through her auburn mop, at her age the compliments came few and far between.
Or maybe it was the flicker in his eyes that made her stomach flutter. Had that been a spark of interest?
More likely sexual deprivation making you imagine things that aren’t there.
“Not your day, huh, Blaise?” Larry eyed her in the rearview mirror as she took an open seat up front.
“Guess not.” Her smile felt lopsided, but she didn’t know how to fix it.
It wasn’t like her to second-guess herself. Blaise was very happy with her life in Summit, New York. She had a cozy little apartment, a job she loved, and a beautiful daughter of whom she was very proud. She even had said daughter’s upcoming wedding to look forward to. There was nothing to complain of and much to give her joy.
She even enjoyed taking the bus to and from work every day. As the “official greeter,” Blaise often said hello to folks she’d come to know. She’d ask Mrs. Petrelli about her son in the Air Force, chat with Eddie about his courses at the community college, and listen to Mr. Weedemeyer’s stories about his dog Sam. The regulars on Bus 158 were a bit like family.
Of course, no one was more important than her daughter Ashlynn. Though the courtship was something of a whirlwind romance, Blaise was
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