Page 25 of The Beekeeper

“Let us rent one of your hives,” I rumbled facetiously, the words slipping carelessly off my tongue, but that was all it took. One poorly placed, bitter joke for a solution to sting me right in the chest.

Fuck.

No.

It wasn’t a solution; it was a nightmare. Purgatory. But what parent wouldn’t choose purgatory if it spared their child from a living hell?

“Harper,” I said hoarsely and slowly faced her. Her and her secluded, idyllic farmhouse buried in acres of land far, far away from the paps. “There is something you can do.”

“Of course. Anything.” She flushed. “For Paisley.”

I locked my teeth and swallowed, knowing how fucking horrible this ask was going to be, coming from me. But I had no choice.

“Could Paisley and I move in with you?”

The question detonated like dynamite into the silence.

As the dust of disbelief cleared, Harper stared at me like I’d grown a second head—one that needed to be checked for insanity for asking what I had. And that was what it was—insanity—thinking it was in any realm a good idea for me to move into the same house as the official sponsor of my wet dreams.

“Shit,” I swore and scrubbed my hand over my mouth when she didn’t respond. Why would she? I was an ass and she’d already too much. “Never mind. Forget I asked. My mind isn’t⁠—”

“No, wait. I-I’m sorry. I just want to…you did just ask to move in with me?” she stammered.

“Just for a little—a few months at most until the lawsuit is settled. But I—” I huffed and ran my hand through my hair. “I’ll figure out something else. There’s got to be another choice,” I said and then muttered, “Any other choice.”

Instantly her eyes dropped.

Shit, Blaze. Way to insult the woman you were begging for help.

“And if I say yes?” Her small voice reached me, her answer almost as unbelievable as my question.

“Harper—”

“Do you really think you’ll find another choice?” she asked. “Soon? And one Paisley will accept?”

My jaw flexed. She had me there.

“No,” I exhaled.

This time, the silence wasn’t hung with disbelief but with the weight of inevitability. Like we were entering another round of Russian roulette; there was only so many times we chamber and cock our desire before someone got hurt.

“Then you both can stay here,” she murmured. “For as long as you need.”

“I promise we’ll keep out of your hair. I can take Pais out after we do her schoolwork and then she goes to bed super early, or we could stay at the inn if you need a night alone or to have—friends over.” I startled myself the way I couldn’t get out any word suggesting a date or boyfriend to her.

“That’s not⁠—”

“Wade’s also contacting a realtor to see if she can find any other options.”

“Blaze.” The column of her throat bobbed.

“And I’ll pay you. Whatever you want. Name your price,” I added, trying to throw everything I could at the guilt I felt like an albatross around my neck. Of all the solutions to this problem…why did she have to be the best one?

Her stare whipped to mine—angry? Jesus, paying her to stay here was a reasonable thought, but she looked at me like I’d just offered to pay her for sex.

“Like rent. Like I’m renting your two extra bedrooms. And I’ll pay for groceries and utilities and whatever else you need⁠—”

“I don’t need you to pay rent. I want to help. Let’s just leave it at that,” she interrupted, and I was caught off-guard by the edge in her tone.