Surprising me more than her request is the fact that I actually consider it for a second. I mean, I know I won't, but the fact that it even crosses my mind rattles me a little.

Great...It's official.

We're all Blake-fiends.

Harlow and I quickly fall back into our routine over the next week. She stays over every night, helping me with baths, fixing the girls hair, making dinners and lunches, and of course, driving them to school in the mornings. But by the end of the week, my hand feels a lot better and my fingers start to work normally so I don't really need help anymore. As much as I enjoy her company, I decide I can be declared officially "Harlow free" by Friday. Plus, that leaves her the weekend to spend as she wishes...aka Trace O'Donnell.

So waking up Sat.u.r.day morning, with no company for the first time in a week, I was already feeling a little restless. But since Nancy came by to pick up the girls, leaving me completely alone, I'm beginning to feel absolutely stir crazy. While sitting at my kitchen table and drumming my fingers, trying to enjoy "mommy time" as Nancy put it, I'm actually relieved when my phone rings. I pick it up expecting the girls, but when I look at the screen I'm pleasantly surprised.

"What's up, Blake?" I say with an obvious smile in my voice.

"Not much. I was just calling to see how my favorite girls are holding up. I understand Harlow's services are no longer needed. I a.s.sume your hand is better?" Blake asks in a s.e.xy tone. Man, I've missed his voice.

G.o.d, I'm such a fiend.

I purposely didn't call him this week even though I fought the temptation every night. I wanted him to call. I didn't want to bother him; I figured he would call when he had time. So, hearing his voice on the other line, I can't help but feel a little bit of satisfaction knowing I wasn't the first to cave in the calling department.

"Yeah, it's healing. It still aches a little sometimes, but it's much better. Thanks for asking." My heart is racing for some reason. I've known this man for an eternity; I don't know why I'm suddenly so nervous to talk to him. "Hey," I hesitate before I continue. "Let's do something. I'm going out of my mind. The girls are with Nancy for the day and I can't stay in this house any longer. Please, Blake!"

I can hear his s.e.xy chuckle over the phone and my heart flip flops in my chest. Man, I must really be going crazy from the fifteen minutes of no social interaction.

"Actually, Alex," he starts off. "That's why I was calling. I was hoping to do something with all the Meyer girls today. But I guess you'll do." He finishes with that d.a.m.n s.e.xy chuckle again and my stomach feels like a thousand b.u.t.terflies have suddenly taken flight inside it.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Get over here and entertain me, d.a.m.n it."

"Will do. I'll be there in ten. Wear something comfortable," he adds mysteriously and hangs up.

Jeez if this were a real live date I'd be p.i.s.sed. No wonder he doesn't date anyone. Ten minutes to get ready. Seriously?

I jump up out of my seat, catching it before it falls backwards onto the kitchen floor, and make a mad dash to the bedroom. I throw on my yoga pants, the ones that make my a.s.s look good, not that it matters, my favorite homemade purple tank top which reads "National Sarcasm Society: Like We Need Your Support", and my black blinged out flip flops, because every woman needs a little bling now and then. I brush out my hair and put it in a pony tail, ahh...how I've missed you ponytail, and throw on my NY Yankees baseball hat. I add a bit of mascara and some lip gloss to my face and poof...I'm done. Giving myself a last appraisal in mirror, I'm satisfied with the outcome of my appearance.

Ha! Take that Blake Morgan with your ten minute ready requirement.

Walking into the living room, I hear the rumble of his motorcycle coming up my driveway. I open the door and watch him get off his bike. He removes his sungla.s.ses and shakes out his windblown hair, which of course looks s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. The ends of his hair turn up around his ears and fall to the collar of his very well fitting v-neck black t-shirt. His blue jeans, frayed at the bottom, just barely drag the ground over his black boots.

Mmmmm-mmmmm.

He turns around to take the keys out of his ignition and my breath hitches as I drop my glance and note (privately of course) that his bottom looks very nice in those jeans. Very nice indeed. Turning around to face me, he gives me a s.e.xy lop-sided grin while he tucks the sungla.s.ses into the front of his shirt so they hang from the "V" and runs his hand through his hair.

I try to swallow, but my throat is really dry...probably because I have been watching him with my mouth wide open. I immediately start to cough.

"You okay, Alex?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," I say, trying to breathe through my coughing attack. "I think I swallowed a gnat. Gross. I'm gonna go get some water. Come on in." I whip around and head into the house as fast as I can so he won't be able to see that my face has turned a new shade of red. So embarra.s.sing.

I hear him laugh as he enters the house, which makes me walk even faster, trying to increase the distance between us. I'm actually breathing hard by the time I get to the kitchen. I should really start working out more.

I quickly grab a gla.s.s of ice water and take a swig, hoping it will help with my face. Not really sure how that will work...

I set the gla.s.s down and turn to see Blake walking into the kitchen. "You sure you're okay?" he inquires.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

I pop myself up on the counter by the sink and take a seat with my legs dangling over the dishwasher. "What's the plan, Stan?" I ask him. I really have no idea what we're doing.

Blake walks right over to me and reaches to grab the water that I just placed on the counter. Really? Can the man not get his own freakin' gla.s.s of water?

My body responds to his closeness when he brushes my leg with his. I feel a shock race throughout my entire body and I unintentionally jump. He looks over at me with a hint of a smile. G.o.d his eyes really are amazing.

"Well...I was hoping we could take the boat out. Like old times. But if we do, we're gonna have to use your truck to pull it. I hope you don't mind. Mom and Dad are still out of town and I can't pull it with my bike, obviously. Or, we can just find something else to do. Up to you." He places the gla.s.s back down beside me. Another electrical pulse radiates through me when his arm grazes mine. I scoot over a centimeter. He chuckles again under his breath and I hop off the counter.

Jeez...What's going on with me today?

"Fishing sounds great!" I respond. I'm not really sure why I sound so excited.

I really need to get out of here. Maybe I'll be normal again with a little fresh air. "We can take the truck, that's fine! Let's get going then!" Okay, I seriously need to tone down the over enthusiasm a bit.

I grab the keys off the counter and speed walk towards the door. I have to get out of this house because, honestly, I'm extremely freaked out. I haven't felt anything like this since Derek. I don't know what's going on but it has to stop; I'm friends with Blake and I intend for it to stay that way. Friendship is comfortable crushing on Blake, not-so-much.

Jumping in the truck and starting the ignition, I wait for Blake to exit the house. I watch as he closes the door behind him and holds his hand above his eyes, looking across the driveway.

"You have sungla.s.ses, dummy!" I shout from the safety of my Suburban.

"I know!" he shouts back. "I was just making sure you weren't taking one last speed walking around the block before we head out." Sarcasm. Noted.

One major internal eye roll and a deep sigh later, I motion for him to get his a.s.s to the truck. "Are we fishing or are we just going to stand around today?" Looking like a freakin' Diesel Jeans ad. Dumb.

He takes his sungla.s.ses off of his shirt and slides them over his eyes. "We're fishing," he says, walking to the Suburban. He slides into the pa.s.senger seat and flashes me his trademark smile. I jokingly roll my eyes at him and lightly punch his arm. "Don't pull that s.e.xy smile on me, Blake Morgan. Sarcasm is only acceptable when I use it." I point to my shirt. "I don't see your 'National Sarcasm Society' shirt. Therefore, I'm the only one with free reign to use it. You can just keep yours to yourself."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Still in the t-shirt making business I see. I'm in the need of a new one, in case you get bored. Poor G.I. Joe didn't make it, I'm sorry you had to find out this way." He gives me a fake frown and a quick wink.

"Aww, that's too bad. I loved that shirt. I'm sure I can put something together for you." I give him a quick wink back. "Hmm...G.I. Joe replacement. That's gonna take some work. Gimme some time."

Blake turns to look me dead straight in the eye. "Take all the time you need, Alex. I'm not going anywhere." The seriousness of his statement makes my heart flutter like crazy. I immediately feel the blood rush to my cheeks. I let out a quick breath.

"Um, okay. You ready?" We really need to get out of here, like now.

I can tell Blake's trying to hide his evil little smile. He enjoys making me blush and he seems to have caught on to my random physiological responses. Jerk. Maybe that's what his shirt should say. "J-E-R-K". Or "I live to make Alex Meyer Uncomfortable".

"Yep. Let's get going." He moves his eyes from mine to the front of the truck, letting his smile finally reveal itself.

I shake my head and start the engine. After a short ride, a lot of arguing, and even more hand slapping over radio stations, I really, really hate country music, we round the corner of his street and his house comes into view.

Pulling into the driveway, Blake directs me to the side of the house. "The boat's around back. Go ahead and pull up here. I'll take care of hitching it to the truck. I have some drinks and snacks in the fridge and a cooler on the kitchen counter. You can load it up while I take care of the boat. Meet me back here in about ten minutes."

I raise my eyebrows in question. "You must have been pretty convinced I'd say yes, considering all your preparations. What if I would've said no?"

"Well, I guess I'd have a lot of sports drinks and ham and cheese sandwiches. No big deal." He opens his door and jumps out of the truck.

No big deal? I'm not really sure what to think about that statement. I lean against the door and watch him walk around the front of my vehicle while I'm still trying to decipher his cryptic code. What does he mean by "no big deal"? Am I not a big deal? Is fishing not a big deal? Is having pre-made ham and cheese sandwiches not a big deal?

The next thing I know, while I'm lost in deep thought, the door flies open. I tumble sideways out my truck and have no choice but to grab the inside handle to prevent falling on my a.s.s as my feet land on the ground. "d.a.m.n it, Blake!" I press all my weight onto the handle and straighten my body, making sure my feet are firmly planted before letting go.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"You know what! I was leaning against the door, trash hole! You totally did that on purpose!" I silently laugh to myself at my insult. Blake and I used that word all the time growing up. I really don't know why it hasn't caught on yet.

He coughs, I suspect in effort to cover up a laugh. "Alex, I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just opening the door for you. It's not my fault you weren't paying attention."

"Shut up, Blake." I really need a quick escape plan...this is just embarra.s.sing.

"My keys are in the ignition. I'll go grab the snacks from the kitchen. Don't mess up my truck." I turn hastily to make my grand exit and start walking to his porch.

"Watch that door!" he shouts from behind me. "It can do some real damage I hear!"

"Shut. Up. Blake! I think I'm safe as long as you aren't behind it!" I yell back. Even though I try to sound mad, I can't help but laugh as I walk onto the porch. Yeah, I definitely missed Blake.

Approaching the front door, I catch my reflection in the window. I straighten my cap that must have been knocked to the side during the truck door debacle and then open the door. I feel the rush of cool air and taking in a deep breath, I'm surprised by the familiarity of the smells in this house. I must not have noticed it last time I was here, with my fingers falling off and all, but now I do. Mrs. Morgan's house always smelled of apples and cinnamon. I remember how, when I was younger, I would come over and immediately run into the kitchen to see if she was making her award winning apple pie. Most of the time she was, and she would always give us both a fresh slice with an ice cold gla.s.s of milk. I smile at the memory.

Knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Morgan are out of town, I'm not really sure how the house still smells like her pies. Maybe she has some scent oils around the house or something. I walk through their living room, slowing down to look at all the pictures she has placed throughout the room.

There's a family picture of them in the mountains, probably at Blake or Rebecca's house in Colorado. I see his two nephews in the picture and giggle to myself because they both bear a strong resemblance to their uncle. He is crouched down beside them in the picture, arms around them with huge grins on all of their faces.

Next, I come to a picture of Blake and Rebecca in high school. It's taken right on the front porch; Blake is dressed in a pair of khaki dress pants and a blue b.u.t.ton down shirt with a red tie. His light brown hair is styled the way he used to wear it, with tons of gel to spike it up in the front. Seeing him at that age in the picture, I feel a stab of pain in my heart.

Floods of memories enter my mind. I remember Derek's hand in mine as he walked me to cla.s.s, the quick kisses he would give me before school. How we'd talk for hours in the back of his truck, my back leaned against his stomach, his legs on either side of me. We planned our future wedding, discussed our future children, designed our future house. I would have made each moment with him last as long as I possibly could if I'd known that future would be cut so short.

Wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, I move to the next picture. It's a candid shot of Blake and me when we were about twelve years old, sitting on his front porch, eating popsicles. We're sitting on the porch rail, feet dangling, looking at each other as we're caught by the camera mid laugh. I pick up the picture to take a closer look. Inspecting our faces, I'm taken aback at how happy and peaceful I look. G.o.d, I used to love to laugh with Blake. Even though I was very young in this picture, it reminds me of the way I feel when I am with Blake now...the comfort...the familiarity...the warmth. I don't remember ever being around Blake and not feeling that way.

Now that I think about it, my feelings around Derek and Blake were actually very similar. They both had a way of making my heart feel happy and full of life.

I place the picture frame back on the table and think about Derek and Blake. Is it wrong that I feel so comfortable around Blake? Is it wrong that I've also begun to feel somewhat uncomfortable around Blake? Would Derek hate me because of it? Would he be disappointed in me if I develop feelings for another man? Or would he want me to move on, like Nancy suggested?

I really wish he was here to explain to me what the h.e.l.l I'm supposed to do now. I almost feel like I need his permission to move on and that I'm stuck in some kind of limbo until I get it. And seeing as though he's no longer available for consultation, I don't antic.i.p.ate getting any answers anytime soon.

Still lost in thought, I make my way to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator and grab the two bottles of grape sports drink and the two bottles of orange. How did he remember I love grape? There's no way he could have remembered that. We haven't had this stuff since we were in junior high. Maybe it was just a lucky guess...or maybe the orange ones were for me?

I grab the sandwiches and close the refrigerator door. Hands full, I turn to place all of our goodies on the counter next to the cooler, but when I see what's already beside it, I almost drop everything to the floor. There's no way.

Next to the cooler, is an apple pie with the sugar and cinnamon on the top just like his mother used to make. "Mrs. Morgan?" I say to myself, half expecting her to pop her head around the corner. I notice a piece of paper lying by the pie. In Blake's handwriting it reads: Smiling, I cut two pieces of pie for us and place them in the plastic container that he laid out. I grab the thermos of milk, put the sandwiches and drinks in the cooler as well, and zip it closed. Throwing it over my shoulder, I make my way to the front door.

Walking out onto the porch, I close the door behind me and smile. Blake is leaning against my Suburban, waiting for me. He looks amused when I approach him.

"I found the pie," I say, removing the cooler from my shoulder and handing it to him. Taking it from my grasp, he grins back at me. "How'd you remember I loved that pie? And how'd you remember I love grape drinks? Seriously Blake, it's been so many years."

He moves his body closer to mine and looks me directly in the eyes. "Well...the pie was for me. I'm just sharing it with you. And it's kind of hard not to remember the grape drinks. You would always end up with a purple mustache after you'd drink them. I'd laugh at you behind your back for hours," he adds with a chuckle.

I involuntarily move my hand to cover my mouth. "What? No way, Blake. No one gets a mustache from drinking a grape sports drink. You're totally making that up."

"Whatever you say, Alex. I'm the one who had to look at it," he says, giving me a wink. He turns to open the pa.s.senger door and motions for me to get in. "Come on, mustache."

I shove his shoulder as hard as I can in annoyance and climb in the truck. Before he closes the door, he puts his arm up above my head, and leans his whole body forward so that he's actually inside with me. My whole entire body begins to vibrate and my heart pounds against my chest. The breath in my throat catches when he leans a little further, his face right in front of mine.

"Okay fine you got me. I did make that up." He pauses for a brief second.

"I actually made the pie for you." He shoots me a s.e.xy grin, withdraws his body and closes my door.

After Blake backs the boat into the water, I drive my Suburban up the ramp and park it. I grab the cooler and trudge to the boat dock where he's waiting for me. I pause for a brief second to take in the lake and its surroundings. I let my body sway with the movement of the water. I can feel it under my feet as it rocks the dock from side to side. I breathe the lake air into my lungs and listen to the sound of the water hitting the rocks on the side. I sigh out loud.

G.o.d, I've missed this.

I scoot my feet to the edge where Blake is waiting for me and attempt to step into the boat. But as soon as I lift my foot, a huge wave knocks the dock and with the weight of the cooler, I lose my balance. I decide it's safer to just drop straight to my bottom than to land in the lake, so I do just that. I fall backwards and brace myself by throwing my arms behind me. Once I've successfully landed, I look up to see Blake staring at me with his mouth open and his eyes widened with surprise. I lie back on the dock and belt out a laugh. I can't help it. I lift my head to glance back at Blake. Although he's managed to cover his mouth, his eyes are still huge, which makes me laugh even harder. I look up into the sky and try to gain my composure.

"If it wasn't nine-thirty in the morning, I'd be worried that you're drunk!" Blake shouts from the boat. "What is that? The second time you've had balance issues this morning?"

I giggle while I bring myself back to my feet. I dust off my bottom and the back of my tank top. "Maybe it would've been better for me to have a few drinks this morning. It couldn't get any worse, that's for sure." I grab the strap to the cooler that luckily landed right side up so there's no damage to its contents. Hoisting it on my shoulder, I feel another huge wave knock the dock and I tip a little to the side.

"Get me off of here! I'm getting a complex!" I fight to regain my balance once again, and scoot closer towards Blake. He's moved the boat as close to the dock as he can. Another big wave crashes into the dock. "Ahh! Help me, Blake!" I yell.

Blake leans forward as far as he can and reaches for me. I hand him the cooler. Throwing it to the side, he shouts though his laughter, "Not the cooler, Alex, you!" He grabs my hands and pulls me so hard, he loses his balance and falls backward into the boat, bringing me with him. I land flush with his body, my arms against his chest, his arms curved around my body. Blake squeezes me tightly and I can feel his entire body shaking from laughter. Giggling along with him, I finally raise my head off of his chest. "Well, that was interesting," I remark as my laughter dies down. Looking at his face, I realize the intimate position our bodies are in right now. I watch the smile on his lips disappear and I'm pretty sure he just noticed it as well. I slowly move my eyes to his. I hold his stare because there's something in his eyes calling to me. I want to lose myself in them. To give in, completely lose control, and stay like this forever.

Okay... I need to get my body off of his ASAP.

I put my hands on both sides of him to push my body off of his. When I get to my feet, I offer him my hand to help him up. He takes it and I force all of my weight backwards to offset his pull. Standing up, he looks me right in the eye. "Yeah, that was very interesting."

We definitely need a subject change.

I clear my throat and I smooth out the wrinkles in my clothes. Looking over to the cooler, I shake my head in disapproval. "Well, I hope my piece of pie is still edible."

Blake gives me a slight apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to get you in the boat. You weren't doing so hot up there."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm a little out of practice." I walk over and turn the cooler to its rightful position. "Okay, now that I'm successfully in the boat, let's go catch some fish."

I deposit myself into the seat next to the driver's and prop my feet up onto the side of the boat. "Come on captain. Put this baby in gear!"

Blake takes his seat behind the wheel. "You might want to hold on to your cap. I plan on letting her spread her wings."

I pull the cap lower on my head making it snug as possible. Blake puts the boat in reverse and soon after we're coasting out of the "no wake zone". When we pa.s.s the final buoy, he opens her up and we race across the lake. The speed is exhilarating. I lean my head back and allow myself to enjoy it. I feel the breeze all around me. My hair is whipping crazily as the wind blows it whichever way it wants. I breathe in every smell around me; the water, the air, the fish, the trees...it feels good, like home.

We drive around for a bit before slowing. Making our way into a cove, I immediately let out a gasp and cover my mouth in surprise. He responds with a shy smile and a shrug of his shoulders. "I thought you'd like it."

I can't believe he remembered this place. This is our cove. We used to haul all of our stuff down the hill and fish off of the bank. It was a trek, hiking through the trails with our tackle boxes and fishing poles, but it was always worth it.

I inhale deeply as my eyes survey the beauty surrounding me. There are willow trees, whose leaves dance just barely on the surface of the water, and a number of wisteria trees with beautiful purple blooms layering the bank all around us. The scent makes my heart swell.

Turning off the engine, we drift until we find our spot. I'd forgotten how serene it was here. The water was always so smooth; there were hardly ever any ripples on the surface. The only sound was the water just barely running into the bank. When I was younger, I would come to this very place anytime I needed to get away. It was the perfect haven. Evidently it still is.

I lean my head back as the boat gently rocks back and forth and inhale one long peaceful breath. "This is perfect, Blake. Thank you. Absolutely perfect."