Page 60 of The Beekeeper

“Hey there, sunshine. Good to see you again.” Marc lifted my hand from my side and pressed his lips to the back of it.

“Good to see…”

And it was at that moment that the front door opened and Blaze and Paisley walked in.

My head swiveled. Blaze’s eyes went to me and then to Marc—to his lips on my hand. And I swore Blaze looked ready to rip the photographer—his friend’s face straight from his skull. And when he dropped Paisley’s overnight duffel bag to the floor, I thought he actually might.

Instantly, I saw Frankie’s fantastical plan—that I try and make Blaze jealous—get set in motion. This was why she’d invited him.

Marc released me and went to greet the new arrivals.

“Hey, man,” he extended a hand, and after a brief pause, Blaze shook it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you again, too.” Marc chuckled. “I’m here because a lovely lady invited me.”

Blaze glared. At me. Did he think—of course, he did.

Heat flamed my cheeks, and I directed my attention to Paisley, but before I could say anything, Frankie called over my shoulder, “Hey, Paisley. The rest of the kids are outside on the trampoline. Do you want to join them?”

Paisley squealed and bolted, Frankie excusing herself, too. And just like that, I was left with the man I didn’t want and the man who didn’t want me.

“I thought you were in Paris?” Blaze rumbled.

“Got back two days ago for a shoot in the city, and then came up here this morning to do some headshots.”

Slowly, Blaze’s stare leveled on me. “I didn’t realize you needed more photos.”

“I didn’t⁠—”

“Oh, shoot!” Marc exclaimed, claiming the conversation again. “Sorry, I forgot I told Nox I’d play cornhole with them, but, ahh, I’ve never played cornhole, so I was hoping you’d be my partner, sunshine?” He looked to me with a sheepish grin.

Every time Marc called me sunshine, Blaze looked like he wanted to throat punch him.

“I…” My throat worked to swallow.

“I can ask Frankie if you want to hang out here with Blaze.”

No.

“Oh no. I’ll partner with you,” I offered quickly, and winced at my word choice.

“Sorry, man. You know I love a good competition,” Marc said, slapping Blaze’s arm and winking. “I’ll catch up with you later. Lots of good stuff to share about Paris.”

I started down the hallway, eager to get out of range of Blaze’s stare, but unfortunately, I didn’t make it far before Marc gently placed his hand on my back and leaned in. “Surprised to see me? Frankie said your jaw would hit the floor.”

His hand was light—barely there, really, but it might as well have been a target on my back the way I felt Blaze’s stare burrow into my skin because of it, like the point of an arrow: sharp, hot, and laden with a kind of possessiveness he didn’t deserve to have.

“Did she?” I laughed weakly.

“She did,” he said and then my head turned, sensing him tip closer. “She also said you could use my help.”

He was in on it.

Frankie hadn’t just invited Marc to our family cookout, she’d enlisted him as part of a plan to make Blaze jealous.

“It won’t take much,” Marc said as we took our places on either side of the cornhole board. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”