did help him out, that would prove he was wrong about her.
He stacked the morning’s receipts absentmindedly. He didn’t want to be wrong about her. Something told him she’d be trouble if he let her get to him.
Shoving the thought of Catherine out of his head, he tried to focus on running his business. If Willie Rae didn’t return the purse by the end of the weekend, he’d go have a chat with her. That should be enough to make up for what had just happened…right?
* * *
Two hours later, he found himself standing in front of the Blue House. Blaine cursed under his breath, then hit the doorbell before he talked himself out of it. He wanted to apologize to her, that was all. Admit that he’d screwed up. It was the right thing to do.
Then the door opened, and the imperial Catherine was looking down her nose at him, no easy feat given their difference in height. But the regal set of her expression made her seem taller and stately and absolutely stunning.
And he suddenly couldn’t remember what he was going to say.
Chapter Seven
Catherine gave Blaine a hard stare. “Well, well.”
“Catherine.”
“Blaine.” She didn’t move to invite him in. He was too damned tall, and definitely too good-looking. Resentment filled her as she took in his arresting features. Why couldn’t Georgia Love have been an ugly woman who’d given birth to a toad? On the other hand, if she’d been ugly, Catherine wouldn’t be in this town doing a favor for Salazar in the first place. He might have a horrible eye for art, but he was a connoisseur when it came to women.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Blaine scuffed a spot on the porch with his shoe. “Ah… This is awkward.”
“Then go back to The Line. Nobody asked you to come.”
“Look, I apologize.”
She narrowed her eyes. She should be more gracious, but she was too angry to care.
“I shouldn’t have been so nasty to you. You were just trying to offer some help.”
“Which you said was worthless.” How astute of him to figure that out so soon. Except for looking beautiful, there was nothing she could do well. It hadn’t taken long before Jacob had discovered that also and turned his family against her. She would have given up her looks to be half as smart as Kerri, who’d gone to Ivy League schools. Catherine had graduated from high school only because she’d known how to milk her teachers’ sympathy.
Blaine’s lips pressed together briefly. “Did you mean what you said? About helping out?”
“What do you think? That I go around and offer to bartend when I
don’t
mean it?” She crossed her arms. “In case you haven’t realized, I don’t need to work.” What she needed was a husband. A really rich husband who wouldn’t mind that the only thing she was great at was looking good on his arm.
“Yeah, I kind of did get the impression. Look, I’m sorry. Okay? And if the offer still stands, I’d be more than happy to have your help.”
“I see.” She wanted to tell him no, but she
had
offered. More to the point, she still needed to figure out an angle Salazar could use—she was
not
going to jail for something she hadn’t done—and couldn’t accomplish that by staying away from Blaine. “What time?”
“Six would be good. Place doesn’t really start hopping until 7:30 or 8:00, but it’ll give me time to show you where everything is.”
“Then I’ll see you at six.” She shut the door.
* * *
As evening approached, the dread in Blaine’s gut intensified. What the hell had possessed him to ask her to bartend for him? He hadn’t been drinking, so he couldn’t blame anything except his own stupidity.
Catherine probably wouldn’t show, which was fine by him. Bartending was hard work, and she seemed like she’d never done anything more strenuous than pick up a glass of wine. But if she showed up, it’d probably go badly. What if she was just as horrible as he expected?
He hated to be the guy who said, “I told you so.” Especially
He stacked the morning’s receipts absentmindedly. He didn’t want to be wrong about her. Something told him she’d be trouble if he let her get to him.
Shoving the thought of Catherine out of his head, he tried to focus on running his business. If Willie Rae didn’t return the purse by the end of the weekend, he’d go have a chat with her. That should be enough to make up for what had just happened…right?
* * *
Two hours later, he found himself standing in front of the Blue House. Blaine cursed under his breath, then hit the doorbell before he talked himself out of it. He wanted to apologize to her, that was all. Admit that he’d screwed up. It was the right thing to do.
Then the door opened, and the imperial Catherine was looking down her nose at him, no easy feat given their difference in height. But the regal set of her expression made her seem taller and stately and absolutely stunning.
And he suddenly couldn’t remember what he was going to say.
Chapter Seven
Catherine gave Blaine a hard stare. “Well, well.”
“Catherine.”
“Blaine.” She didn’t move to invite him in. He was too damned tall, and definitely too good-looking. Resentment filled her as she took in his arresting features. Why couldn’t Georgia Love have been an ugly woman who’d given birth to a toad? On the other hand, if she’d been ugly, Catherine wouldn’t be in this town doing a favor for Salazar in the first place. He might have a horrible eye for art, but he was a connoisseur when it came to women.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Blaine scuffed a spot on the porch with his shoe. “Ah… This is awkward.”
“Then go back to The Line. Nobody asked you to come.”
“Look, I apologize.”
She narrowed her eyes. She should be more gracious, but she was too angry to care.
“I shouldn’t have been so nasty to you. You were just trying to offer some help.”
“Which you said was worthless.” How astute of him to figure that out so soon. Except for looking beautiful, there was nothing she could do well. It hadn’t taken long before Jacob had discovered that also and turned his family against her. She would have given up her looks to be half as smart as Kerri, who’d gone to Ivy League schools. Catherine had graduated from high school only because she’d known how to milk her teachers’ sympathy.
Blaine’s lips pressed together briefly. “Did you mean what you said? About helping out?”
“What do you think? That I go around and offer to bartend when I
don’t
mean it?” She crossed her arms. “In case you haven’t realized, I don’t need to work.” What she needed was a husband. A really rich husband who wouldn’t mind that the only thing she was great at was looking good on his arm.
“Yeah, I kind of did get the impression. Look, I’m sorry. Okay? And if the offer still stands, I’d be more than happy to have your help.”
“I see.” She wanted to tell him no, but she
had
offered. More to the point, she still needed to figure out an angle Salazar could use—she was
not
going to jail for something she hadn’t done—and couldn’t accomplish that by staying away from Blaine. “What time?”
“Six would be good. Place doesn’t really start hopping until 7:30 or 8:00, but it’ll give me time to show you where everything is.”
“Then I’ll see you at six.” She shut the door.
* * *
As evening approached, the dread in Blaine’s gut intensified. What the hell had possessed him to ask her to bartend for him? He hadn’t been drinking, so he couldn’t blame anything except his own stupidity.
Catherine probably wouldn’t show, which was fine by him. Bartending was hard work, and she seemed like she’d never done anything more strenuous than pick up a glass of wine. But if she showed up, it’d probably go badly. What if she was just as horrible as he expected?
He hated to be the guy who said, “I told you so.” Especially
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