12. Petra

Chapter twelve

Petra

The Riverfront is beautiful—far beyond what I’m used to. Bella Vita is nice, and has similar white linens and elegant silverware, but The Riverfront spared no expense on decor and flooring. It’s too dark to see the river through the wall of windows, but there are fairy lights strung through the trees outside. Nate would rather go to a bar or club than a beautiful restaurant, but it’s obvious that my ex and Reed are opposites in a million areas.

Reed isn’t easy to be around. His salacious attitude flusters me with zero effort, and he delights in my discomfort. But he’s also the easiest person to be around. He doesn’t pity me or consider me fragile, doesn’t judge me for my…recreational habits. He leaves me embarrassed, happy, tense, relaxed, and enthralled, all at the same time.

“You pick the wine,” Reed suggests once we’re seated. “You know your way around them better than I do.”

In my family, wine says a lot about a person. “What do you normally prefer?”

“Water, sometimes coffee, or hot tea for my voice.”

Shocked is an understatement. “You don’t drink?”

Reed shrugs, his face earnest in the soft light. “My dad is an alcoholic, and I was scared I would be, too. I’m not.” His smirk sends butterflies careening through my belly. “You drank me under the table last night. But it put me off habitual drinking. I’ve found being sober is a thousand times better than being drunk.”

Yet another way Nate and Reed differ. I’m horrified that Reed drank with me last night when he usually avoids it. “I’m not an alcoholic, and dinner without wine isn’t going to kill me. Though, red wine is a family secret for eternal youth so I’m not swearing it off altogether.”

Reed’s dimple winks as he laughs and lifts my hand to brush his mouth over my knuckles. I try not to sway, dizzied by his intensity. “Noted. Thank you for your consideration.”

I tug my hand back to clear my brain. “Was it hard with your dad? Or is that too intrusive a question?”

“I ask plenty of intrusive questions,” Reed says with a Cheshire cat smile, as if he’s remembering all my answers. “It was rough. But my dad is seven years sober and happily remarried, which is better for the whole family. He’s still distant, but it’s better than it was.”

I can’t imagine. Church, Sunday dinners, holidays, they’re all a huge part of how the Diamantes come together. Divorcing and adding more spouses into the family would breed more chaos and tear us apart. Maybe Nate and I never married because I knew it might invite that exact brand of pandemonium. “I’m sure that was hard on you.”

Reed nods. “It took a long time to understand. Longer to accept it. I worry that I’m too much like him.”

“If you are, then you have his best traits, not his worst.” We order water and dinner, making idle chit chat as we go. I’m enjoying it, but it’s almost too comfortable. He hasn’t prodded me at all. “No sex questions tonight?”

His grin is full of trouble. “I was trying to lure you into a false sense of security. I heard you lived in LA? I was over in North Hollywood.”

“I was in Studio City. Nate—” I stop and swallow my words with a grimace. “Sorry. Not supposed to talk about my ex on a date.”

Reed frowns. “He’s the story ready to burst out of you. You’ve stuffed it down so far that you might explode with it.”

It’s a close guess, except the real story buried deep is Natalia. Heart aching, I touch her name against my collar. “Your growing list of talents should also include psychic. ”

Reed snorts. “You could go into rubber manufacturing with all the deflection you’ve got going on.”

He always knows how to lighten the mood. “Did you make a physics joke? Reed, are you secretly brilliant?”

“No secret about it. So, Nate?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“A relationship I clung to long after its expiration date.”

His eyebrows climb higher. “You don’t enjoy opening up.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Me either…But I do with you,” he notes, a soft frown pulling at his features. “Alright, I’ll come back to the ex situation later. Tell me something else. Are your names Italian? Petra and Livi?”

“Not exactly,” I hedge. “My mom is American born Italian, but she was into ancient Roman names. Livi, Silla, and I all got them, but my brother inherited my dad’s name. He gets to go by Tommy, like a normal person.”

“And you’re not normal?”

I roll my eyes. “How many Petras do you know?”

His answering chuckle infuses my veins with lava and leaves me lightheaded. “Fair point. I didn’t know Petra was a Roman name.”

I’m distracted by the way his hands catch the light. How can anyone have such attractive hands? “We don’t go by our full names. I mean, Tommaso is par for the course, Livia’s is passable, but Petronia and Drusilla ? Ma could’ve used a second opinion on those.”

“Petronia?”

It shocks me back into the present. I don’t tell people my full name. “How do you keep getting me to do that?”

“It’s another talent. Fun name, Petronia.” He rolls the word around in his mouth, murmuring and whispering as if he’s tasting it. My name is brand new. Reborn. No one has said it the way he does. “Good plosives. Petronia. Perfect. As unique as you, Petronia.”

Jesus Christ. How does he make my name sound sensuous? It slips over my shoulder and slides down my spine like silk. I must have swallowed a bag of jalape?os by accident, because I need someone to pour a glass of water on me. I need Reed to stop saying my name before I leap across the table and down his throat.

“Petra is fine,” I croak.

“Petra, then.” His mouth quirks up at the corner, like he knows that his voice is stretching out across the table to stroke the length of my neck. The power he wields has me at a huge disadvantage. “So why don’t you want to sleep with me, if you’re not hung up on Nate?”

I bite my cheek, and the pain brings some clarity. “I don’t even know your last name.”

Reed leans forward with a smile that brings out his dimple. “Reed Alexander. Not as cool as Petronia Diamante. That’s a hell of a name. A world-changing name. Tell me you didn’t consider giving that up for Nate. What’s his?”

“Fitz.” I squint at him. “Is this where you say Petra Alexander sounds better?”

“Of course it does.” Reed smirks at me. “But let’s be honest, Reed Diamante is the clear winner here. Full of flair. I wouldn’t need a stage name. Tell me, Petronia, what’s your real issue with us sleeping together?”

My toes curl at the use of my full name. I try my best to ignore it and search for a reason he’d accept. “I can’t imagine a scenario where I’ll be comfortable getting back into it after this long.”

He smiles like he’s chewing on a secret. “I can. Speaking of imagining—you said you can’t touch yourself in bed. Where do you go?”

I wince, but there are hardly any layers between us anymore. Reed is determined to know all my secrets, but Natalia isn’t one I’m willing to divulge. Distracting him with shallow answers like these is worth the awkwardness. “The bath.”

“Oh?” This is how Reed must feel in my transparent moments, because his eyes flicker down my body and he swallows hard. When his eyes lock with mine, they’re not simply honey; they’re a mix of gold and brown, ethereal in their intensity. My blush comes on in full force .

“The water helps cut the rest of the world out so I don’t have to think about it,” I explain, trying to distract from the stifling air between us. “ASMR, but for my skin.”

“You mentioned that before, ASMR.”

At least the technical side is less embarrassing. “It’s one of the things that sets your work apart. I can find a thousand audios that call me a good girl or whisper goodnight, but you’re so detailed. Is that the wrong word? The brush of fingers on skin or running through hair? The rustle of fabric, the—” I slam my mouth shut, flushing red all over.

“Yes?” Reed encourages with a smirk. His voice is soft and deep, keeping the topic for our ears only. “All the other noises? Kissing? Heavy breaths? The glide of slick skin?”

My name on his lips is better than kisses down my neck. I can’t breathe. I wish I was back in my bath to cool the fire within me. “You’re not allowed to use my weaknesses against me.”

“I want to use all your weaknesses for you,” he murmurs, voice husky. “Not pushing, though.”

“Oh yeah, definitely not.” My sarcasm is thick. “Drop Knight’s act. Tell me about Reed, real Reed, who’s happy for his divorced parents.”

His surprise flits across his face before he hides it away. “I’m originally from Iowa—my family still lives there.” He laughs at my shock. “I know, sometimes a ‘warsh’ comes out instead of ‘wash,’ but I adopted the LA accent well. Somehow you know about puppy chow up here—I bought some in your bakery section—which was my favorite snack back home. I missed it while living in California. What?”

I’m smiling too much. He’s not who I’d expected him to be. “I’m enjoying listening. Tell me more. What part of LA are you in now?”

Reed winces. “I’m moving out of the city.”

“What? Why? I can’t imagine leaving—I loved it there.”

He frowns. “Is life in Swift River that bad?”

“Yes,” I blurt. “I would go back to LA in a heartbeat, if I could. ”

His fingers brush over the back of my hand. “I understand. I refuse to move back home. I haven’t decided where I’m landing yet, but it won’t be Los Angeles.”

His expression tells me not to push. “Is your whole family in Iowa?”

I’m happy to see Reed relax in his chair. “My mom and my sister, Amanda, are near Coralville. Amanda is firmly rooted, married with two kids, but my brother Grant is in Chicago, enjoying the bachelor life.”

“As are you?”

His eyes dance as he leans forward with a smirk. “Darling Petra, are you interested?”

Darling Petra. I can’t handle it. I fight the clench in my stomach. “I’m just assuming, since you’re interested in my…habits.”

His voice drops low, melting in my ear and down my chest with a lover’s touch. “For someone who listens to my audios, you sure shy away from the word pussy, baby.”

My body spasms at the word, the endearment, the soft yet firm edge to his voice. My hand jerks across the tablecloth, and my fork goes flying.

“Reed!” I hiss. He’s been winding me up all night, desire curling deep into my bones. I’ve let the game go on too long. I want his words to wash over me—pound into me like a waterfall—until I come apart, dripping with them.

Reed’s laughing, yes, but there’s something under the surface. “Oh, damn.” The fire in his stare scorches me.

“What?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“Nothing.” He signals a passing waitress to ask for a new fork, and he drops the subject of sex altogether. Time passes while the lava in my veins reduces to a simmer, and I’m able to get myself under control. Mostly.

Because then Reed talks about his nieces, who he spoils rotten, and I nearly melt through my chair.