Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHRIS

The following morning, I was not feeling my best.

It turned out there was a price to pay for freedom, especially beer-based freedom, and that price was steep.

"Just a little further now!" Watt Bartlett called cheerfully over his shoulder. "The Wrigleys' land starts at that gate—" He lifted one big paw and pointed toward a fence that seemed to be miles away. "—and the campground itself is just through those trees—" The paw lifted toward the forest all the way on the horizon. "—so not too far."

"Not far at all," I echoed. I pushed sweat-damp hair out of my face, ignored my rolling stomach, and dredged up a weak smile for the man—a cousin of a friend of his, Reed had said, though Watt was tall and broad, bearded and flanneled enough to have been a missing Sunday brother. "I just love walking. I can walk for miles and miles."

Reed, who walked beside me—looking fresh as a daisy and disgustingly handsome despite being bruised and unshaven and loaded down with all our baggage, including a soft cooler we'd bought at the grocery store in town and some me-sized clothes I'd purchased at a nearby thrift store—shot me a look that called me a liar.

It wasn't a lie, though. Not exactly. I did love walking.

I just maybe loved it a little less when I was wearing my big sweater and another pair of borrowed too-big pants, and the autumn day was summer hot, and I was scrambling to keep up with two men forged in the same giant mold, which meant taking two running steps for every one of their long strides, while my stomach begged me to leave it behind and carry on without it. I knew my cheeks were bright red, and the little rivulets of sweat rolling down my back beneath the sweater were not my favorite-ever sensation.

I wasn't going to complain, though. Uncle Danny always said nobody liked a complainer.

And I was definitely not going to complain where Reed could hear me and think I needed him to, I don't know, pick me up and carry me or whatever.

I lifted my chin stubbornly and shot him a look right back, but Reed merely grunted and said nothing.

Nothing , I was quickly learning, often accompanied by a grumpy grunt, was one of Reed's very favorite things to say, along with "It's no big deal, Chris," and "I'll keep you safe, Chris," and "Listen, Chris…" the latter of which actually translated to "Do as I say."

But the strange, disobedient compulsion that had come over me in the bar last night was still in effect—The leftover effects of the alcohol? The silver lining of a hangover? I wasn't sure—and the more Reed Sunday told me to do something, the less I wanted to do it.

"You know, we really should talk at some point," I murmured low enough so only Reed could hear.

Reed ignored me just as he'd been doing all morning.

"About the kiss," I went on. " Our kiss. Last night."

Another grunt.

"I think we should discuss—" My toe caught on a piece of gravel covering the path around Watt's raised garden beds, but I managed to catch myself before I stumbled.

Reed looked at me in concern, but when it was clear I was steady, he looked away again. "We discussed it when it happened. I told you it was no big deal."

I clenched my hand into a fist. "You did say that. You did. But that's not a discussion. Discussions are supposed to involve you sharing your thoughts and feelings about a thing and then asking me my thoughts and feelings about a thing. And, um, not to argue with you—since I hate arguing—but it was kind of a big deal. You kissed me," I reminded him unnecessarily. "And you… I mean, we… I mean, I …" I cleared my throat. What was it called when someone held you in his big, strong arms and moved his cock against yours so perfectly that the whole world went silent, and your brain exploded into fractals of light, and you felt more aware of yourself—more awake—than you ever had before? I didn't know, so I fell back on what Mrs. Rose's romance novels always called it. "I… released ."

Reed heaved a sigh heavy enough to make the trees in Watt's orchard bend. "I know," he said in a low voice. "But I shared my thoughts and feelings. I think it was caused by an adrenaline rush." He side-eyed me, jaw set like concrete. "I feel like it will not be repeated."

"Oh." This… was disappointing.

When I'd gotten in Reed's car yesterday, I'd been prepared for a hookup… or, at least, as prepared as a person with zero practical experience could be. I'd expected I'd sort of follow Reed's lead and go along with whatever he wanted. Any way the man wanted to touch me or ki ss me would have been fine.

Now, though… now I had opinions . I wanted Reed Sunday to give me more of those drugging kisses. I wanted his hands on me again. I wanted him sprawled nearly on top of me in bed, his hard cock against my thigh, like he'd been when I'd woken up in the motel this morning… though, ideally, without Reed's eyes flying open in sleepy horror, or him muttering oaths and apologies as he fled to the bathroom before I'd woken up enough to enjoy the moment. Next time, I wanted to make Reed lose control.

But all of that only worked if Reed wanted a next time.

"Not to be repeated," I agreed, trying not to sound as sad as I felt. "Good to know."

"Did you have thoughts or feelings you wanted to discuss about this?" Reed sounded about as enthusiastic as I would if invited to go free climbing. Naked. In a blizzard.

"N-no. Nope." I waved a hand airily. "No feelings whatsoever."

Now, see, this was a lie.

I glanced sideways again. A breeze caressed Reed's thick brown hair and plastered his T-shirt to his thick chest. Just the sight of him made my mouth go dry.

I couldn't help asking, "You're sure it won't be repeated?"

This earned me a full head-turn. Reed surveyed me from head to toe, and his eyes went soft, but when he spoke, his voice was firm. "Positive. I'm a professional, Chris, and I won't kiss you again under any circumstances. That's not something you have to worry about. Okay?"

I'm more worried about you not kissing me, but okay.

Reed's words were an important reminder, though, that he wasn't with me because he wanted to be; he was with me because he thought I couldn't take care of myself. In fact, if it hadn't been for him thinking he had to protect me, our lives would never have intersected in the first place. Which meant I should probably be thinking about how to, you know, dissect us rather than fantasizing about us, erm, intersecting further.

I knew Reed's feelings about us going our separate ways since on this particular topic, he had plenty to say. He was convinced I was the person he'd been sent to guard, that my uncle was in witness protection, and that Danny was a criminal who was working out a plea deal to testify against his "enemies," who were now out to get me.

I… I believed that he believed that. I truly did.

Reed was kind, and smart, and trustworthy, and he made some compelling arguments. It was pretty clear I was the guy he'd been sent to protect—I blamed being flustered yesterday for my silly suggestion that I might not be. And there were many facts to support his story, like the wacky coincidence that my uncle was on a never-ending vacation cut off from all communication at the same time Reed claimed he was in witness protection, and the way those bikers last night had known my uncle's name and feared it, which I couldn't explain away.

But unlike Reed, I knew Danny. I knew he was a good person. It showed in the way he loved me—in the way his eyes got misty when he looked at me and said I looked "just like Carmelita" and how he'd sometimes run a hand over my head, back when I was younger, and say, "Ah, Christoforo, you're heart of my heart." I knew it in the way he'd let me cheat at poker when I was a kid but had put a stop to that when I turned thirteen because "A true Fromadgio is honorable." I knew it from the way he worried about me when I was bullied for being stammer-y and shy and in the way he'd taught me that if a person has good character, is responsible and considerate, keeps his head down and thinks before he speaks—which I remembered to do almost always, except where Reed Sunday was concerned—that other people's opinions didn't matter.

So no matter how much I instinctively trusted Reed, I had to believe he was acting on bad information. Danny was not a criminal.

It was possible that Danny was in protective custody, though. Someone might have threatened or lied to get him involved in something shady or blamed him for something he hadn't done. Maybe Danny was testifying to set things right. In all of those scenarios, it was all too believable that Danny wouldn't have told me because he knew I'd worry.

So until I figured out what was actually happening, I'd agreed to go along with Reed's plan and come to the safe house—erm, safe campground?—at least until I figured out what the heck was going on with my uncle and how I could help fix it.

The fact that this also gave me more time with Reed was—seriously, no kidding—neither here nor there. I wasn't even thinking about that.

Much.

And if it just so happened that I was determined to be cheerful and display a John-Ruffian-like competence, to not complain or seem needy even if it killed me, and to show that I was totally capable of taking care of myself… well, that had nothing to do with Reed or me wanting him to stop seeing me as a professional responsibility so he'd kiss me again either.

Definitely not.

To prove this point, I swiped a hand over my sweaty face and spoke my next words firmly. "So, um, about the whole thing where you think my uncle is a felon?—"

"Oh sweet Jesus, not again," Reed groaned. "I am not going through this again. I'd rather talk about the fucking kiss."

I turned to stare at him. Wait, was that an option?

No, Chris. For heaven's sake. Think of Danny.

"Because I am truly sorry for taking advantage of you," Reed went on. "And I will not, not ever, under pain of death, kiss you again?—"

"Yes, I got that," I said, a little edge in my voice. "You've made your position quite clear. And for what it's worth, you didn't take advantage of me, so I don't want your apologies." I waited a beat and added, "What I want is… proof ."

"Proof?"

"Yes. Like, evidence about what Danny's been involved in. I guess some of the evidence is maybe, um… classified or whatever. At least, it is on TV. So I'm not asking for that. Just… I don't know, a list of the things he's been accused of. The people you think are involved. Because you asked me to stay with you based on your word alone, and I agreed… but I don't think it's unreasonable for me to want to see that stuff, do you?" I peered up at him.

Reed didn't dismiss the idea right away. "I don't have anything like that right now," he said slowly, "but… yes. That's reasonable. I'll get it for you."

"Okay." The intensity in his eyes made my stomach flutter. "Thanks."

"Thanks?" Reed repeated. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "That's it?"

"Well, yes." I blinked up at him. "Unless you wanted to discuss the kiss more?"

"Fuck, no," he said fervently, which, honestly, was kind of hurtful.

Fine, then .

I lifted my chin and hurried to catch up with Watt, ignoring Reed's impatient huffing.

"You've got some beautiful sedum growing here, Watt," I called, pleased that I only sounded a little bit breathless. I pointed at the nodding purple heads of the plants in the bed next to us. " Autumn Joy , right? It's one of my favorite annuals."

Watt turned so he was walking backward—which was pretty impressive since I was having trouble covering the acres facing forward—and beamed at me from beneath a bright blue cap that said Organic Farmers are Out Standing in Their Fields . "It is! You a gardener, Chris?"

"Oh, um, no… I wouldn't say that. My uncle is, though, and I've helped him out."

From behind me, Reed gave a throaty growl like he disagreed, or disapproved of something, or possibly had spotted a bear in the woods. Since he didn't speak actual words, I decided it wasn't my problem, and I continued ignoring him.

"Ah. Well, the sedum was actually my sister Iris's choice. She was pregnant a couple years ago and begged me to grow cantaloupes." He stopped walking—mercifully—and gave a good-natured eye roll at the mostly empty bed behind the sedum's tall, nodding heads of pink flowers. "Do you know how difficult it is to grow cantaloupe in this part of New York?"

"Um… pretty darn difficult, I'd guess?"

His lips twitched behind his beard. "Pretty darn difficult," he agreed. "After a few years of experimentation, a friend of mine suggested the melons weren't self-pollinating properly, so?—"

"So you needed to plant some flowers nearby to attract bees and butterflies!" I finished as understanding dawned. "And your sister picked sedum? What a great idea. My uncle used to plant marigolds near his tomatoes for the same reason."

"This year, we had a bumper crop of cantaloupe, just in time for Iris's second pregnancy." He grinned. "Only took four years to make it happen."

"Worth it," I said happily. "Cantaloupe's really an underappreciated fruit. Great on a charcuterie board."

Watt smiled so hard his eyes crinkled, which was really kind of sweet. "You'll enjoy the little gift basket Iris left for you guys at the campground." He considered me for a moment. "You know, I do some gardening classes—kind of a community outreach thing—and that friend I mentioned tricked me into running a booth at the local farmer's market where I diagnose people's plant maladies. Since you're going to be in town a while, I'd love it if you'd?—"

Reed cleared his throat and pointedly shifted his gear from one shoulder to the other. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "but could you show us to the campground before you chitchat?"

"Ah, shit. Sorry, Sunday. I'm sure you two want to, ah… relax." Watt gave us a little smirk that had Reed and I exchanging a befuddled glance after he resumed walking. "You sure you don't want me to take one of those bags?"

Reed grunted a negative. "Just eager to get settled in. We spent a lot longer in town than I'd planned."

I flushed. "I couldn't help it," I explained to Watt. "O'Leary was so pretty, and everyone was so nice. We met this incredibly tall man outside the bakery who had the biggest dog I've ever seen, and I couldn't not pet him and chat with him for a while—er, chat with the man, not the dog."

Watt nodded. "That'll be Ash walking Cupcake. Silly name for a mastiff, but he and Cal insisted. They own the bakery."

"Oh, and I had the best conversation about imported cheeses with this really adorable man at Lyon's Imperial Market, and he appreciated my advice so much, he said to stop by his shop and he'd give me free flowers?—"

"Best guess, that was Micah." Watt shook his head. "Poor guy's been trying to fancy up our football-watching parties for a couple years, but it's not working so far."

"And the sweetest, friendliest guy gave me a flyer about a bulb-planting demonstration he's doing at the Pumpkin Festival the Saturday after next. Were you aware that there's going to be an actual festival of pumpkins ?" I demanded excitedly.

"I was." Watt outright grinned, making his kind face even kinder. "And the man you're talking about was probably Constantine—the friend I mentioned earlier. He's also Micah's husband."

"Husband!" I said, delighted. "Are there a lot of LGBTQ people around here?"

"Oh yeah. Loads in O'Leary and plenty in Copper County, too. It's a really accepting place. Some of my best friends are gay and bi. In fact, my buddy Parker set up a social group, if you're interested?—"

Reed gave another loud grunt, this one accompanied by a narrow-eyed glare at Watt, who, inexplicably, chuckled.

I shot Reed a look over my shoulder. He seemed to be getting progressively grumpier as the day went on, and I didn't understand it. He'd been borderline rude to every one of the guys who'd struck up a conversation with me that day.

I would have teased him about still being a bit overwrought, but he probably would've only grunted at me some more.

"Ha. Sorry, man." Watt held up his hands. "I understand, believe me. I was in your shoes once, sort of, though it's been a while." He gave us an indulgent smile. "Nearly there now."

I wasn't sure what Watt understood, exactly. The complex grunty language of grumpy people, perhaps? Maybe it was only taught to folks who were bearded, and buff, and neither talkative nor vertically challenged. If so, I wished someone would clue me in because I did not—seriously, no kidding, did not —understand Reed Sunday's shifting moods.

In my hurry to keep pace with Watt, I didn't notice a large boulder in my path, and this time, I wasn't fast enough to catch myself. But before I even had time to contemplate hitting the ground, Reed's arm shot out from behind, and he caught me. "Careful," he murmured, pulling me against him for a steadying moment. "Do you need us to slow down?"

My heart beat so hard I could feel it in my throat, and my stomach swooped like I was still in mid-fall, but I didn't think any of that was related to me tripping.

"N-no, I'm fine." I tried not to breathe in the scent of Reed's woodsy cologne, in case it made me spout nonsense like it had yesterday. "I'm a very good walker. I've been walking for years."

Okay, maybe the cologne wasn't entirely to blame for my nonsense-spouting.

Reed pressed his lips together like he was fighting a laugh, but as quickly as he'd caught me, he released me, and his grumpy frown returned. "Let's go," he said, all business.

See? Seriously, so confusing.

My fingers twitched to touch him some more, but his whole demeanor said "back off," so I hurried to catch up to Watt again, paying attention to my feet this time… which meant I nearly plowed into Watt when he stopped suddenly and spread his arms wide.

"Here we are! Welcome to your new home away from home."

We stood in the middle of an overgrown field of rye and bluestem crisscrossed with dirt paths. A semicircle of trees bordered half the field—cottonwood and birch, pine and maple—with a few small, gray-shingled sheds peeking out at intervals. To the right was a low building—a slightly larger version of the sheds—with weathered Adirondack chairs arranged in the waist-high grass out front. Beyond that was an unpaved road that led uphill past a comfortable, Craftsman-style house before disappearing into yet more trees.

"That's the driveway," Watt said, following my gaze. "Follow that up the hill and you'll come to the main road, a little further down from the turnoff to my place. And that's the Wrigleys' house over there." He pointed at the Craftsman. "Oak set up a security system in case anyone decides to pinch their antique kaleidoscope collection, so the house itself is off-limits, but the rest of this place is all yours for as long as you want to stay."

"All ours?" I said, turning in a wide-eyed circle. Bees buzzed through the grasses, and crickets chirped like it was still summer, but the thick stands of trees promised cool shade and hidden treasures to discover. "Wow!"

"All ours," Reed repeated, shifting the cooler on his shoulder and dragging the toe of his boot through the overgrown grass. "Wow."

"It needs a little work," Watt allowed. "I've kept up with it as much as I could since old Abe died and Mrs. Wrigley had a stroke a couple years ago, but it's a lot for one person to do part-time, especially during apple season. I mowed a couple times this summer, and my son Derry and his friends cleared some brush back in June. He says it's because the lake access on our property's too stony, but I know it's because?—"

"Wait," I interrupted. "Pardon, did you say there's a lake ?"

Watt's smile warmed. "Copper Lake. Prettiest spot around. Even the O'Learians agree…" He quirked an eyebrow. "At least the smart ones do."

"Copper," Reed said thoughtfully. "Is there a copper mine nearby? Or was there, at some point?"

"Nah." Watt adjusted his ball cap. "Some of the first European settlers to this area were big into butterflies, and they found the area around the lake is inundated with them every summer. So the name comes from the?—"

"Copper butterfly!" I exclaimed. "Like the American copper and the scarce copper and the bronze copper. Not the metal!"

"Exactly." Watt beamed like I'd just passed some kind of test, and I grinned back.

Reed grunted impatiently.

Once again, I ignored him. He was the one who'd asked about the name in the first place, for gosh's sake.

"I think it's cool to have a whole county named after butterflies," I said to make up for Reed's lack of enthusiasm over this cool fact.

"Actually, Copper County's not a county," Watt explained. "It's a town and a tiny one at that. Even smaller than O'Leary, population-wise."

"Not just small but tiny ?" Reed said. "How… great."

"It is," Watt agreed. "See, we used to be part of Piermonte, back when Piermonte was a huge sprawling town. But then Titan Security bought up some land to build their headquarters, and a buncha people moved in, and they built a Costco and a Mega-Wegs and a Massage Envy, and folks started calling that part of town Piermonte Village, and this area around Copper Lake became known as ‘Copper County,' and there was a municipal split, which is kinda like a town divorce, and…" He waved one huge hand. "Anyway. We didn't end up with much. Our kids go to the regional schools, and we do most of our business in O'Leary, which is closer to us than the Village anyhow, but we got the lake and all the houses and families around it, which was the important part."

"And now you have a town named after a lake that's named after a butterfly," I pointed out.

Watt smiled. "Exactly." He pointed past the little sheds to a gap in the trees. "About a hundred feet back on that path through the woods, you'll find the campground's dock and a little beach. Some of the local retirees go fishing there in the mornings, but I'm not sure they catch much. They mostly sit there and enjoy the view. For my money, though, the best view of the water on the whole property is from right about…" He ambled over to the driveway, walked uphill a few paces, and squinted at the trees like he was assessing. " Here . Come see."

I hurried toward him, and Reed followed, dropping the gear he was carrying on the grass. Both of us peered obediently at the trees like Watt had.

After a second, Reed's face creased in a reluctant but genuine smile. "Huh. It is pretty."

Even standing on my tiptoes, though, and moving this way and that, I couldn't see anything but branches. It reminded me of staring at those Magic Eye puzzle books when I was a kid, when everyone else would ooh and aahh , and I'd wonder what the fuss was all about.

"Hmm," I said doubtfully. "Maybe I'll just go down and check out the view from the dock later?—"

Reed nudged my hip. "Come on. I'll give you a boost."

I hesitated. I could think of nothing less John-Ruffian-competent than a man standing in an open field needing a boost.

But Reed didn't seem put off. He squatted slightly and patted one thigh like he boosted vertically challenged folks all the time. "Put your foot here and lean your hand on my shoulder," he commanded.

Oh, man. Stay down , I warned my dick firmly. Don't get ideas.

"So bossy," I sighed as I complied. "Like this?"

"Yup. Now, lift." He wrapped his arm tightly around my waist and straightened, lifting me easily, until I was plastered to his side with my feet dangling a crucial foot or two off the ground. "Can you see?"

I nodded, but I couldn't actually answer out loud. The sight was too glorious for words.

The cottonwoods on this side of the lake had just started to change color, framing the sliver of shining water in green and gold like a painting in a book, while the trees on the opposite side were already a half-turned riot of russet and scarlet and neon yellow. A warm breeze made the trees whisper like they were having a cozy chat and set the lake sparkling. And when I sucked in a deep breath, the air smelled like…

"Honey," I said in satisfaction, closing my eyes and digging my fingers into the meat of Reed's shoulder. "Smell that? That's sweet alyssum. There must be some growing around here. It's good for your lungs, Nonna used to say. "

"Your nonna said a lot of shit," Reed said softly. "Not sure I'd take her medical advice."

I laughed. "She did make herbal remedies sometimes, but I think with the alyssum, the cure comes mostly from breathing it in. It's relaxing." I opened my eyes and looked down at him. "Don't you feel it?"

Reed looked up at me, which was a novel sensation, and his fingers tightened at my waist. "Yeah," he said roughly. "I think I?—"

Watt snickered, and I whirled to face him, almost falling out of Reed's arms. Somehow, I'd forgotten we weren't alone.

Reed straightened and set me down gently, then stepped two paces away, scowling at the ground like it had hurt his feelings.

"Oh, don't mind me." Watt rocked back and forth on his heels. "I remember those days fondly. Just a couple more things before I get out of your hair. First… did Oak happen to mention that the campground has become a teen hangout?"

Reed frowned sharply. "No. In fact, he specifically said this place was private. Remote."

"It is, which is why the kids like it." Watt shrugged. "Don't tell me you and your friends didn't have a secret place where you'd drink beer and fuck around when you were a kid."

Reed grunted and shrugged, conceding the point. I nodded sagely, too, though if the kids back in New Jersey had a secret place, I hadn't known it.

"Most of 'em are good kids," Watt went on. "They'll leave if you remind them they're trespassing. And aside from swimming and drinking, they don't cause any trouble… although someone did tag a couple of the cabins with gr affiti last spring." He pointed toward the little sheds, which I now saw had miniature windows and chimneys, like tiny houses. "Derry won't tell me who it was, though. The little shit's all, ‘Dad, I'm nearly seventeen. I have it under control.'" Watt's tone was wry but affectionate. "Anyway, if things ever do get out of hand, you can call the cops, and someone will do a drive-by."

"No worries. We can totally handle it," I assured him.

Reed shot me a look. " I can handle it," he corrected.

I tried not to roll my eyes.

"Apologies it's not in better shape and that I don't have more to offer besides the small stipend. Unfortunately, the next of kin is a selfish jackass out in California who can't be bothered to show up." He exhaled and pressed his lips together. "But the less said about Jasper Wrigley, the better."

"Aw. That's too bad." My mouth twisted in sympathy. "I mean, too bad for her, obviously. My uncle Danny says family is the most important thing in the world. But don't worry, Watt. You can take our stipend and put it toward renovation costs. I'm happy to do it for free."

"You are?" Watt said.

"You are?" Reed lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes, of course," I said. "Fixing this place up will be its own reward."

Reed glanced around the majestic clearing, but I got the feeling he wasn't seeing all the potential I saw. The next words out of his mouth confirmed this. "I appreciate you hooking us up with a place to stay, Watt, but this is a bit more work than I imagined. We'll need supplies and tools and whatnot."

Watt nodded. "I'll tell Hen Lattimer at the hardware store you can charge stuff to my account."

"We can do it," I assured Watt, laying a comforting hand on his forearm. "I'm very handy."

"You are?" Watt asked, pleased.

"You are?" Reed repeated. His eyes narrowed warningly on the spot where my hand touched Watt… which, honestly, was ridiculous. Did he think Watt posed a danger? Because, if so, he was not only bossy but delusional.

"I am." I lifted my chin. "I am a very competent individual, Reed."

Watt rubbed his lips together like he was fighting a grin. "Do what you can," he repeated. "I'm sure you there'll be plenty inside the caretaker cabin to keep you occupied. We've done as much as we can to make it comfortable, including bringing in a new mattress." He gave us another one of those winks I didn't understand. "I was newly married once, too."

"I'm sure the cabin's adorable," I agreed, "but I won't want to be inside much when I could be exploring the lake and the woods and the…" I stopped and stared at Watt. "P-pardon, did you say… married ?"

I glanced at Reed, but his body had frozen unnaturally still, and his expression gave nothing away.

"Yeah, I was married." Watt ran a calloused hand over his beard. "Don't look so surprised. I'm a lot like the campground, okay? I need a little work, but I used to be pretty."

"What? N-no, you're very handsome, Watt," I assured him. "Very." He really was, especially with his hands tucked in his pockets like they were then, which showed off the corded forearms peeking out from the sleeves of his rolled-up Henley. I shook my head. Not the point, Chris. "But you said married like you thought… as though Reed and I were…"

Watt looked back and forth between us, a pucker between his eyebrows. "Oak's message said, ‘The Sundays are newlyweds looking for a place to spend their honeymoon.' Did he get it wrong?"

"Oh. Ha. Yes. That's not, um—" I broke off with an eep as Reed wrapped his big arm around my waist and hauled me against him with a little jiggle that clearly meant be quiet .

"Sweetie. There's no need to keep it to ourselves," he said. "Since Oak's clearly told Watt the whole story."

Sweetie?

Wait… what whole story?

"Uh." I glanced up at Reed. "When you say the whole story , you mean…"

"I mean…" He narrowed his eyes in warning. "Watt knows we're married."

Married?

Me?

To… Reed?

What in the…?

Reed jiggled me again, this time to make me start talking.

"Oh. Ha! Right." I chuckled faintly. " That story! Yup. That's us. Married, married, married. So married! Super married."

"It's a big change, and it's taking my babydoll a little while to get used to it," Reed told Watt apologetically. "We haven't known each other long. It was kind of a whirlwind romance from the moment we met. Isn't that right?" The man gave me another jiggle… which, honestly, was excessive.

I was a terrible liar, and I knew it, but I was trying my best to process what was happening here with no information, and jiggling me wasn't like flipping a hecking on-off switch.

"Very much like a whirlwind." I glared up at Reed, daring him to jiggle me again. "Actually, pookie bear, it's reminded me quite a bit of season five, episode six of John Ruffian: Pretender , where John wakes up in a?—"

"Mirror universe!" Watt crowed. He clapped a hand to his hat. "Oh, shit yeah. Where the sky is green and the coffee is blue, and suddenly, he's a notorious criminal who needs to stay one step ahead of the law by stealing cars until he can figure out how to get back to his own world?"

I smiled, delighted. "Oh my gosh! You're a John Ruffian fan, too?"

"Pfft. Who isn't? Awesome fucking show," Watt enthused. "My favorite was season one, though, where he was?—"

Reed let out a protracted grunt, and his scowl was hotter than the sun. "If we could get back to reality for just a second—" he prompted.

"For a certain definition of reality," I muttered, low enough for only Reed to hear.

"—what my honeybear and I really need is some privacy, Watt," Reed went on. He forced a smile. "A break from work and stress so we can, you know, focus on our relationship and, ah… discuss shit." He scratched his beard. "Chris is all about discussions. Aren't you, love muffin?"

Somebody grunted angrily.

I was shocked to realize this time, the grunter was me .

"Discussions are a good thing." Watt gave me an approving look. "Communication's vital, or your little issues will snowball into bigger ones, and then you'll find yourselves snapping at each other over the slightest provocation. Believe me, I know."

I was pretty sure Watt had no idea. No one in my life had ever made me feel the way Reed did. Angry and argumentative, but seen . Protected and safe, but frustrated. Wanted—maybe? At least a little?—but also literally aching with want.

I clenched my fists. "It's funny you should say that, Watt," I said sweetly. "I knew a man once who ended up married to the first person he'd ever kissed, even though that person later claimed the kiss was a regrettable, no-big-deal mistake and never wanted to discuss it again."

Reed frowned. "The first person?—?"

Watt frowned, too. "Wow. That's… concerning."

"It is ," I agreed. "It is concerning. And also, this man's husband grunted ."

"Grunted?" Watt glanced between Reed and me again, this time suspiciously. "About what?"

"About nothing. About everything. He grunted when his husband wanted to discuss things with him but also grunted when his husband discussed things with other people. Just grunt, grunt, grunt , all day long. Can you imagine?"

"Yes, definitely." Watt lifted his cap and scratched his head. "Wait. I mean… no?"

"Angel cake," Reed bit out. "Maybe we should?—"

"Like, can you imagine if you were married to a person who frowned incomprehensibly every time you mentioned your favorite television show, or expressed enthusiasm for pumpkins, or had a polite conversation about love and trust with the head of a motorcycle organization? Serious lack of communication right there, huh?"

"Lover, Watt has work to get back to, I'm sure." Reed tried to do the warning jiggle again, but I was ready this time and refused to be moved .

"Or what if your husband cut you off every time you tried to talk about your beloved uncle who raised you to be a hardworking person who never—or, like, hardly ever, except for a few select, forgettable incidents—caused trouble? Wouldn't that warrant a discussion?" I demanded.

"Wow." Watt looked a bit nonplussed, but he nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'd, ah, have a lot of communication work to do in that case."

"You would," I agreed. "And what if— mmmpfh. " A pair of soft, warm lips crashed into mine, and a pair of strong arms wrapped around me tightly, stealing my words, stealing my breath, stealing my thoughts.

The kiss was desperate. Bruising. Freeing. It made my knees weak and the world around me fade into blurry colors. He tasted like frustration and helpless amusement and longing all at once, and man oh man, it was a heady combination. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him as it went on and on, softening and slowing until I couldn't help but seek just a little bit more.

When he eased back a few moments later, I pressed my fingers to my lips and realized that I might not understand his grunts, but there was one way in which Reed and I seemed to communicate just fine.

This time when he released me, he tucked me back against his side like he was proving a point, and I took a deep, gulping breath of his woodsy cologne, very much enjoying whatever point he was proving.

When I looked up, Watt was busy squinting at the sky like the clouds had become very interesting.

"Sorry about that," Reed said, though he didn't sound sorry. "My husband is hard to resist, especially when he's passionate about something."

Watt's mouth tilted up in a lopsided grin. "And that makes you a lucky man, doesn't it?" He punched Reed lightly in the shoulder. "Congratulations, Reed, and welcome to Copper County."

He turned to me. "And congratulations to you, too, Chris Sunday. I have a feeling you're going to like it around here." He winked again, but this time, it wasn't knowing, just… friendly. "And I think Copper County's definitely going to like you."

Unfortunately for Reed's peace of mind, it turned out Watt was right.