Page 128 of The Beekeeper

Part of me wanted to ask if Harper had seen those articles, but I didn’t have to ask to know the answer. She had. And if she thought…

“Please tell me Harper doesn’t believe this.” My heart pounded like an unsteady drum in my chest, slowly and surely losing its beat.

“I don’t think so,” Frankie said, and I couldn’t describe the relief that went through me. “But I needed to believe you before I told you where she was.”

“And do you?” I asked, damn near ready to rip my heart from my chest and tell her to do her worst because the organ only beat for Harper.

She only tortured me for a second before answering, “Yes,” she said with a sigh, and then a huge smile spread over her face. “We’re her hive, Blaze. But we’re your hive, too. Harper is in Boston with Nox at a glass art showcase. She’s supposed to be there until the end of the weekend, but if you want to win her back⁠—”

“I do want to win her back,” I interrupted. “And I have a plan.”

“A man after my own heart.” Her smile broadened. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“You’re never going to guess.”

Chapter 31

Harper

Ihated to say I regretted coming with my brother, but…I regretted coming with my brother to Boston.

There were so many people, so many faces that walked through the exhibition, and in every tall, blonde male, I kept looking for Blaze. Somehow, more space—miles of space seemed to make things worse.

The silver lining though was that Nox seemed different here. Happy—dare I say excited to show off his unique glass-blown creations. One woman had come over earlier and mentioned him and Dale Chihuly in the same sentence, and I swore my brother almost fainted.

“Nox.” I stood as my brother stormed into his booth. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” he muttered, and then with a shake of his head, amended, “Nothing.”

“Well, it’s obviously not nothing.” So much for that silver lining.

He heaved a breath. “They want—they want to film at my studio.”

“W-What?” I gaped at him. Only my brother would use the most succinct terms to explain something that was anything but. “What show? What do you mean, film?”

“Glassmaster—”

“The one Frankie keeps wanting you to compete on?”

His frown burrowed deeper. “The director is here. I didn’t know—didn’t realize who he was,” Nox rambled, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. “He came over and started looking at my stuff. Admiring it. I thought he wanted to buy something or commission something, so I kept talking to him, answering his questions about my process and my business and what my goals were, and here it was because he wants me to be one of the contestants on their next season.”

My eyes bulged, my jaw almost hitting the floor.

“He wants to grab drinks as soon as I’m done packing, but I shouldn’t. I have to tell him no⁠—”

“What?” I grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you want to? This is huge, Nox.”

“I don’t want to be on TV.”

“Okay, but how many times have you said you don’t want to be relegated to making boring tableware and glass dolphins for souvenir shops? All you’ve talked about since coming back from Murano is becoming the next Chihuly.” Which was a hard feat. Trying to make a living as any kind of artist was hard, but glassblowing especially. Being on a popular show like this would be like…getting an endorsement from Blaze Stevens on your homemade honey.

“Not like this,” he insisted, starting to pace along the back of his booth. “I’ll figure out another way.”

“Will you?”

He looked at me, irritated that I kept pushing this, but what else was I going to do? I wasn’t going to sit here and encourage my brother to shy away from his dream. Plus, Frankie might actually kill me if she knew this happened and I’d done nothing.

“How long?”