Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

“QUIT IT!” SHE screeched as ice-cold water hit the middle of her back. Spinning around on her toes, she saw two wide smiles splitting across her brother’s and his friend’s faces as they aimed the hose in her direction.

Her father had reminded them earlier in the day that if they wanted their allowances, then they better get to washing his car by the end of the day. Usually, it was a chore that went by without incident, but with her brother’s friend involved, it had turned into pick-on-Jennifer hour.

She dodged another spray in her direction and ran over to the side of the car for cover. Grabbing a sponge from the bucket of soapy water next to her, she peered over the hood and aimed it right at Troy’s head. It hit him square in the nose, which made him yell while Rocky stood there and laughed at his friend.

“Nice throw, Jen,” Rocky called out to her.

Jennifer ducked back down when he grinned in her direction, embarrassment causing her skin to heat even as she shivered from the cold. She’d had a crush on the older boy since the first time he’d come home with her brother after school a couple of years ago…not that he knew it.

“You better be getting ready to run, J.”

Her brother’s warning had her looking across the yard to the large tree with the rope ladder. Realistically, if she made it in time, he would still be able to latch on to her ankle, and, with Rocky’s help, pin her to the ground. So, that wasn’t an option.Her eyes then moved to the back door that was slightly ajar, and she wondered if she would make it in time to lock it.

“You know we’re gonna get you, so you may as well come out.”

Opting for the door, she turned and made a run for it. She was halfway across the lawn when she felt someone grab her waist and tackle her onto the grass. Squealing, she tumbled down with an “oomph.” She wriggled underneath the frame that landed on top of her and rolled over. Rocky was laughing as she shoved against his shoulder.

“Get off of me, you buffoon.”

As he held her down, she spotted Troy coming over with the hose in his hand.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, squirming to get away. “I’ll tell Mom.”

“It’s just a little water,” Troy said as a mischievous grin crossed his face.

Turning her attention back to the boy above her, she pleaded with him, her eyes wide and, she hoped, innocent looking.

His laughter stopped when he saw the expression on her face, and he sighed, letting her go with one hand to brush the long brown locks off his forehead. She took advantage of his position by pushing against him with all her might and knocking him backward before kneeling on his chest and shouting, “Hah!” in his face. At his look of surprise, she quickly leapt off him and ran for her life, laughing the whole way.

She bolted through the door, turned, and shut it behind her, clicking the lock into place. The glass window afforded her the chance to witness her brother’s shocked expression of disbelief, while the boy behind him ran a hand through his hair and watched with a look of admiration.

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but in that moment she was positive that he was impressed.

“I’M GONNA GET you!”

The young voice shouting pulled Reagan out of her daydream, and she scanned the park next to her for the source. A group of boys and girls were chasing each other and playing tag, while their parents stood nearby chatting and popping hot nuts from the street vendor nearby. The little girl with brown pigtails reminded her of herself when she was younger, and when she hit one of the boys before running away, Reagan smiled to herself and pulled her camera up to take a picture.

After a long week, she found her happy place on the park benches of Manhattan, observing the people around her, taking candid snapshots, and dreaming up stories about those she watched. With her camera strap around her neck, she stood and wandered down the path that wove around the outskirts of the park. The sun was warm as it shone down, and she couldn’t help but tip her face up to it, enjoying the rays against her skin.

She lived for days like this. The quiet times where she could get out of the office and immerse herself in the city she loved.

As she made her way along the path and back out onto the street, a classic brownstone across the road caught her attention. The iron fence that bordered the basement entryway was covered in ivy that wound up the staircase and covered the left-hand side of the building. The double doors were gorgeous, with brass handles and glass panes that allowed a passerby to catch a glimpse inside to the way the elite might live in the city that never slept.

Feeling the need to capture such beauty on film, Reagan brought the camera up and placed her eye to the viewfinder, adjusting the lens to get the image exactly where she wanted it. She took several shots, the shutter clicking with each snap of her finger, and as she zeroed in on those impressive doors, one of them opened, and a man stepped out onto the porch.

Intrigued by the appearance of the owner, she found herself zooming in on him, waiting for him to look up in her direction. He was well dressed, and she had to admit that the back view was impressive.

As he pulled the door shut, he turned around, and Reagan realized the attractive face now prominently featured through her lens was that of…Evan James.

She cursed and drew the camera away before he could glance in her direction and catch her snapping shots like a stalker. What the hell were the odds that they were both in the same place in Manhattan on a lazy weekend morning? Wait…that wasn’t his apartment that he was walking out of.

Oh hell.

She looked around for something to hide behind, but there was only a wide-open walkway, unless she wanted to jump in the Hudson River. Which she did not. At all.

She walked to the railing, pulling her camera back out to take a picture of…of…

“Reagan?” Evan called out.

…absolutely nothing at all.

“Reagan,” he said again, and this time she turned around to see Evan strolling her way, his eyes roaming over her in such a way that she felt naked instead of completely covered in yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

Inwardly, she groaned, hating that he looked so damn good in his walk-of-shame dark jeans and tailored button-up while she’d been slumming it on park benches.

Not that she’d ever let him see that bit of insecurity come out.

“Evan?” she asked, confusion masking her face as she slipped into a more unruffled version of herself, one that wasn’t bothered by her unkempt appearance. Then she noticed the way his eyes were still drinking her in…

“Stalking is still illegal in all fifty states, you know,” she told him when he reached her.

“I’m glad that you’re aware of what crime you’re committing.”

Reagan placed a hand to her chest. “Me?”

“Well, you’re the one standing across from my therapist’s office. Were you taking surveillance photos for Bill?” Evan teased.

Reagan felt her mouth fall open at the accusation, but she was secretly pleased he wasn’t leaving the scene of a late-night conquest. As quickly as she could, she pulled herself together and shrugged.

“It wouldn’t be the worst idea. How do we know you aren’t making Dr. Lover up?”

Evan glanced back over his shoulder to the brownstone and then returned his focus to her. “Wanna come meet him?”

“No,” she replied, appalled. “I’m not here checking up on you; don’t be ridiculous. This is just some strange coincidence.”

“Or a happy one?”

Reagan pursed her lips as if thinking about it. “Perhaps, Mr. James. Perhaps.”

He glanced at the camera hanging around her neck and then brought his eyes back to hers. “You like photography?”

“No, I just carry this around so men will look at my breasts.”

He gave her a disarming grin. “Good news—it worked.”

“Eyes up here, sir. You just left your therapist’s office.”

“And ran into you. Either someone up there is fucking with me or this is a sign.”

With a laugh, Reagan found herself kicking a pebble around underfoot, trying to remind herself she was a grown-ass woman and not the eight-year-old girl she’d been remembering earlier.

“Where you headed?” he asked, and Reagan raised her eyes back to his amber-colored ones.

“Nowhere in particular. I was just out taking a few photos.”

“So you do do this for fun?”

Reagan gave a slow nod. “I do. There’s something cathartic about it.”

Evan said nothing for a moment as he stood there, and Reagan had the distinct feeling he was trying to see more than what she was willing to show.

“You’re a hard one to figure out, Reagan Spencer.”

“Am I?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Yes. I would never have guessed you like photography. You don’t have any images in your office.”

Reagan looked out across the river and replied softly, “Some things are private.”

“And your photos are one of those things?”

She glanced over to where he’d moved beside her and said, “Yes, they are.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and after several intense seconds, he flashed a smile and bumped his shoulder to hers.

“Well, since we’re close, personal friends, maybe you’ll let me see a few?”

When she didn’t respond, except for a look that screamed hell no, he laughed and said, “Okay, okay.”

“Nothing against you—it’s just I’ve never let anyone see my shots.” Her gaze traveled over the water, mindlessly watching the rowers pass by. “They just tell stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“The ones I make up.” When Evan stayed silent, she turned to face the park, looking around before pointing out an older man sitting on the curb feeding the pigeons scattered about him. “Like him. I imagine he was once very good-looking and incredibly wealthy, but married a woman his family didn’t approve of and lost his inheritance. He’s lived his life as a poor but happy man until his wife passed away recently, and instead of spending his days alone in his small apartment in Queens, he would rather keep company with other living creatures, no matter how small.”

Nothing was said as they watched the man in silence together. Finally, Evan quietly asked, “Walk with me?”

She gave him a small smile and nodded. “Sure.”

Pushing off the rail, she fell in step with him as they walked along the river’s edge.

“I’d be scared of what you’d see if you looked at me through your lens,” he admitted.

“You shouldn’t.”

Evan scoffed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t imagine there’s much good there…”

“You’d be surprised at what I see.”

That comment had him coming to a standstill. “Would I?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he said, and started walking again. “Tell me what you see.”

Reagan slid her thumbs down the straps of her camera and cocked her head, looking him over.

“I see a successful man. One who dresses well, even on a Saturday morning. So that would indicate to me that he takes pride in his appearance. Maybe cares about what others think also. The fact that you were leaving a therapist’s office makes me think you’re a man with some issues, but also a man who is willing to work through them. Again, that comes back to pride. You seem to be able to swallow yours when need be.”

Evan’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing as she continued.

“You also have a certain…air about you. It’s in the way you move. You’re confident, but at the same time, when you flash that smile, the arrogance disappears, and you look like the boy you used to be.”

The smile under discussion appeared, and Evan asked, “How do you know what kind of boy I used to be?”

“Hey? This is my story,” Reagan reminded him before he continued asking questions she wasn’t willing to answer.

“Oh, my apologies, I somehow thought it involved me.”

“It does, but you’re on the outside listening, so shh. You asked, remember?”

With a serious face, he nodded. “You would be right.”

“Okay. Now I lost my train of thought.”

Evan chuckled. “Well, it’s probably for the best that you didn’t mention any of my unappealing attributes.”

“Speaking of…” she said, and turned to walk backward, facing him. “How did the session go today?”

“Really great. There was an orgy, a sampling of sex toys, and a dessert buffet afterward. Very satisfying.”

“Evan…”

He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was fine. It’s always fine. Today, Dr. Glover brought up behavior triggers, and it helped to figure out where this whole mess started.”

Curious, she asked, “And where was that?”

“It wasn’t any one event. It was the high off the power I got from my job, it was being in an unhealthy relationship…my grandparents passing…the worry about following in my parents’ footsteps. The further things spiraled out of my control, the more I craved that control in other parts of my life. Well, a very specific part of my life.” He glanced over at her before continuing. “Obviously that’s the condensed version, but…I think it helps. Knowing those things and hopefully being able to stop them in the future.”

“But the urge isn’t gone?”

The look in his eyes was haunted as he replied, “No. No, it isn’t gone.”

“So…what does he suggest this week?”

“Ah,” Evan said, pulling out a colored flyer from his back pocket. “‘Love at First Sit,’ a speed dating and social mixer for those looking to meet that special someone and find true love.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to help you with? I thought you weren’t supposed to be taking random women home from a bar?”

“That’s not technically true—I don’t have to be completely celibate. But for this bit of homework, I’m supposed to talk to the women without hitting on them. I don’t even know if that’s possible.”

“So you mean you have to pretend to care?”

“In a manner of speaking…”

“Wait, you weren’t just—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “I actually want to know about you.”

“How comforting,” she grumbled as she took the flyer from him. Then she scanned the date and time and looked up at him. “This is tonight.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I can’t think of a better possible way to spend my Saturday, can you?”

She was about to hand the flyer back and tell him no and good luck with that when he took her arm and stopped her.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Ohhhh no. No. Don’t even think about it.”

Evan’s mouth quirked in a way that made it difficult to look away.

“Too late. Come with me.”

“Are you out of your mind? You don’t take a date to speed dating.”

He patted her arm, much like she had earlier in the week, and she was annoyed that it irked her. She didn’t want him treating her like—

“My wingman, not my date.”

Trying not to be offended by the thought, Reagan mulled the idea over in her head.

“First off, I would be your wingwoman. Second, if I was going to do this I’d want it to be interesting, you know, for me too.” She pushed the flyer back against his chest and said, “Let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Yeah. I bet that if I get all dolled up and hit this ‘Love at First Sit’ deal, I will walk away with more phone numbers than you.”

Evan took the flyer from under her hand and looked at it once more. She could see him thinking it over before he raised his eyes to hers and asked, “What are the stakes?”

“Hmm. How about when I win, you have to bring me coffee every day next week with my name on it.”

He rubbed his right eyebrow with his index finger and then pointed at her. “You got it. And when I win, I want a date—a real date, with you.”

“What? No. That wasn’t—”

“A date, Reagan. If you’re confident in your”—his gaze traveled to her mouth—“abilities, then this should be an easy win for you.”

She shook her head. “That’s a dirty play, Evan.”

“I’m a dirty boy. Do we have a deal?”

Against every sensibility that was screaming out in warning, she stuck out her hand to shake his. “Deal.”