11. Reed

Chapter eleven

Reed

A short run works the last dregs of the wine out of my system. I’ve barely stepped out of the shower when my phone rings with an LA number that might be my realtor’s office. “Isaac? What’s up?”

“Reed!” A bright voice exclaims. “How are you?”

I frown. “Sorry, who is this?”

The woman loses some of her excitement. “Oh. Um, it’s Colleen. We used to get together sometimes on Saturdays. At Raspberry Zebra?”

Raspberry Zebra? The bar? I don’t remember dating anyone named Colleen. But then it clicks. Colleen. One of Kinley’s club friends. The back of my neck prickles as if a thousand needles tap at the surface of it.

“Kinley told me about what happened,” she says. “She’s sorry, Reed, and she wants a chance to work it out.”

I’m not doing this. “I’ve made it abundantly clear that she needs to stay away from me. Have a nice day.”

“Wait!” Colleen exclaims. “She—”

Adrenaline floods my system until I’m seeing red. “If I never see or speak to her again, I will live a full and happy life. You need to understand—Kinley doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone but herself. The minute you don’t do as you’re told, she will tear your life apart. Get out while you can, and find some new friends.”

With shaking hands, I hang up and block Colleen’s number. I don’t know how she got mine, but Amanda is right, Kinley isn’t giving up. Maybe I should report each infraction to the police. I still can’t believe she got a fucking plea deal .

I fight the urge to chuck my phone across the room. I power it down and shove it in a drawer, wishing I could disconnect from Kinley that easily.

I do a thousand things to keep from spiraling—wondering what the hell I’m still doing in Swift River. I wish I had Petra’s number to cancel our plans. She spent years in a horrible relationship. If I bailed on her tonight, would she recover? Would I? I pop in my headphones and play a recording I took in Yellowstone to block my thoughts.

Between the nature sounds and deep diving into reviews on local restaurants, I’m able to pull myself together. As the evening draws closer, I force myself to dress well in a button-down and some cologne.

Picking Petra up from work highlights how little I know about her—not even where she lives. I know her first and last name, and that her parents own Belvita. I can’t trust her. I shouldn’t trust her. I’d leave and never look back, except for the words in a notebook I wasn’t meant to see.

I smooth my hands over the sheets, tidying the bed. The soft impression from Petra’s head is still visible on her pillow. She asked to hold me last night. She made me laugh. She saw me , not Knight. The deafening buzzing of bees crawling up my chest settles down to a whisper. This small dose of peace is what drives me to pick up my order from the flower shop before they close.

It’s five minutes till eight when I arrive at Mulberry’s, but Petra is already outside, scowling at a woman who fluffs Petra’s curls. Petra doesn’t see me as I walk up, too intent on the woman in front of her. “Will you stop, Livi?” she grumbles.

“Only if you admit that it’s a date!” the woman says.

This is why I didn’t bail. She’s not my past, she’s Petra. Firmly rooted in knowing this isn’t going anywhere, but enjoying the moment anyway, because who knows when we’ll get another? She’s a kindred spirit. We both need to see that possibilities still exist for us. Maybe if I chase her shadows away, I can chase away my own .

My skin settles over my bones—calm, quiet, and warm—as I take her in.

“Isn’t it?” I interrupt. It’s hard to keep up my wounded facade when she looks up, stricken. I offer her the bundle of anemones and ranunculus that Chelsea hooked me up with, but Petra blinks at me, leaving me out to dry.

“It’s…not.” She doesn’t sound sure, and I let her off the hook.

“It’s not,” I affirm. Except now I’m not sure. She’s got makeup on that has her eyes sparkling under thick lashes, and the blush across her cheeks is reminiscent of when I embarrass her. But there’s something in her face—like she’s not far from tears—that’s unsettling. “But the rules are that you have to pretend. From this moment until we say goodnight, it’s a real date. Otherwise we lose the purpose.”

“Which is?” The other woman cuts in. She resembles Petra, from the high bridge of her nose to the slope of her eyes.

I smile at her, but my words are for Petra. I reach over to pluck a stray hair from her jacket and pin her eyes with mine. “To remember there’s more in front of you than behind you. You’re beautiful, Petra. This isn’t your uniform.”

Petra rolls her eyes, but at least her sadness is retreating. She takes the bouquet, tracing the petals of one of the flowers before she speaks. “Everyone knows about last night, and half the town got involved to make me pretty. Roses are too cliche?”

“You’re just as pretty at two in the morning,” I say, and Petra flushes. “Roses are elegant, but I’m not a fan of the scent. Are they your favorite?”

She shrugs. “I like variety.” Her sister mouths something that I don’t catch, and Petra glares. Livi is a key into her past, her personality, her foil, and I want the chance to learn more. “This is my sister, Livi.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Livi dispenses with the niceties. “Hi Reed. Rule one: don’t break her heart or I’ll key your car. My husband is a Deputy Sheriff, so good luck getting him to arrest me. Rule two: what Petra says goes. No getting handsy without permission or I’ll do more than key your car. Rule three: If she kisses you, please rock her world, because she hasn’t been kissed in—”

Petra plants her free hand right in Livi’s face. “That’s enough talking,” she says as she grabs me by the elbow and pulls me across the pavement. “Night, Livi!”

“I’ll tell Papa not to wait up!” Livi shouts. Petra lets go to wave her middle finger high in the air without turning back.

“Don’t stop walking,” Petra commands, “or I’ll end up kicking Livi’s ass halfway to Boston and have to go on the run from Darin.”

The mental image is fantastic and pulls me out of any lingering indecision. Thirty seconds alone with her and I’m settling into myself. “What, are you secretly CIA?”

“Unofficial black belt,” she says. I can’t pin down if she’s lying.

“Unofficial? Can’t wait to hear that story.” I stop Petra next to my silver SUV, stepping in close to reach around her for the door handle. My body lights up when her ample curves press against me. My imagination didn’t do her justice. I stroke her hot cheek with my knuckle. “I like my paint intact, so I won’t initiate anything. But if you decide to kiss me, I have no problem with following Livi’s third rule.”

Petra’s lips part on an inhale that echoes in my bones. Her mouth is glossy, and it’s only as I’m wondering how she’d taste that I realize I’m staring. She’s almost feverish compared to the cold night air at my back, and every warm inch of her heats up my blood.

She pushes weakly against me. “Noted. Dinner?”

If she thinks she can dissolve what’s happening between us with two words, she’s wrong. I wrap a curl around my finger, and her hands tighten on my jacket. “How come you didn’t wear your hair this way yesterday?”

She gives me a wry smile. “Mia Thermopolis? Miss Frizzle? Toula Portokalos? Any of those ring a bell? Curls—real, frizzy, unorganized curls—have never been Vogue. But I didn’t have time to straighten my hair this morning. ”

Because you were in my bed. The thought is heady, possessive, and I’m running hot as I release her hair to brush my fingers down her neck. “Your curls are stunning.”

“Thank you.” Her chest brushes against mine with every heavy breath. My finger catches on something gold around her neck.

“Who is Natalia? Another sister?” I ask, running my finger over the name on her necklace.

Her body locks up as she closes her hand over the metal. “Please don’t ask.”

I get that. Tonight is an escape for both of us, and it’s working. She gets me out of my head without any effort at all. So I retreat back into my own space and open the door for her. “Dinner, then? I’m guessing Belvita is out?”

She appears relieved to move on. “Absolutely. Livi is an appetizer of my family’s chaos.”

“Now I definitely want to go.” But I climb in the driver’s side and list three I found on Yelp.

Petra scrunches her nose. “Those are all…nice. Really nice.”

“That was the point.”

“Isn’t it better to be practical?” she asks. “If I’m going to date someone for real, that won’t be my life.”

“Why not?” I frown at her. “Your future boyfriend can’t take you to nice places?”

“Ha! No.” The corners of her eyes crinkle, as if the idea is ridiculous. She expects the bare minimum.

“I despise your ex.”

She lets out an amused snort. “He’s not worth the energy. I’ve always wanted to go to The Riverfront, but we need a reservation.”

I grin as I put the car in gear. “We’ve got one, but I need to cancel the other two.” Her wide, disbelieving eyes make me want to dote on her further. I lift her hand to brush a soft kiss over her knuckles. “Your standards are remarkably low, Petra. I’m determined to raise them. ”

She rolls her eyes at me as she refolds her hands in her lap. “Only because you’re not worried about having to keep up those standards later.”

I laugh, because my other option is to reconsider exactly what my intentions are here. “If you need to tell yourself that so you can pretend you don’t want to kiss me, go right ahead.”

“That’s not—” Her face reddens under her blush, far more vibrant and glowing than the powder on her skin. I grin as I reach over and touch the back of my hand to her cheek. It’s hot.

“You haven’t contemplated kissing Knight?”

She tugs my hand down. “Knight’s not real, and he’s not you. I have to cancel my subscription, though.”

“What? Why?”

Petra shrugs. “How am I supposed to listen now? I’m not going to use you. It was different when it was just a fantasy.”

I’ve never dated anyone who offered to cancel out of deference to me. A rush of something pleasant and velvety strokes my skin. It’s comforting—I don’t remember the last time I experienced it.

I hate Livi’s rules. I want nothing more than to kiss Petra with the same care and affection she’s unknowingly given me. In one heart-pounding moment, the world shifts and Petra becomes the scariest thing in it. Because I want this to be a real date.

“You don’t have to cancel.” If anything, Petra is the one person I want to share myself with.

Petra laughs, unaware of my revelation. “Are you that hard up for money that losing my subscription will be detrimental to your lifestyle?”

I force a chuckle, steadying my shaky hands on the wheel. “Cheeky, cheeky, Petra.”

“You like it.” She looks away, but her smile is reflected in the side mirror.

“I do.”