Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

CHRIS

I just wanted to make Reed stop talking.

There were some things I wouldn't mind hearing him say again, like the way I was almost positive he'd called me baby back at the dock. But the way he was talking now, the fear in his voice, made everything feel too real.

That near-drowning had been scary as heck. I hadn't really thought about jumping before I did it—which, in retrospect, probably had not been the sort of jumping-without-thinking Van had advised me to try—and the second I'd hit the water, I hadn't been able to think at all. I'd been so cold, cold all the way to my bones, and I'd tried to be brave and claw my way to the surface, but I hadn't known which way was up. The harder I fought, the deeper I'd seemed to fall. And maybe—I mean, probably, almost definitely—I would have gotten out on my own somehow, but in that terrifying instant when I'd thought perhaps I couldn't , with my lungs burning so badly I thought they might burst, the one thought my panicked brain had latched onto was that I refused to die before Reed Sunday kissed me again.

Now, with his hands on me and his lips warm on mine… I was done waiting for him to kiss me. I was going to take matters into my own hands.

He was so much bigger than I was in every way. My toes slipped on the shower floor, and if it hadn't been for his strong arms around me, I probably would have tumbled to the ground in a sodden, shivering heap.

But Reed hadn't taken his hands off me since he'd pulled me out of the lake, and at this point, I kind of hoped he never did. Or… or at least didn't for as long as I could keep him kissing me.

His mouth was firm on mine. Just like last time, he took control immediately and dominated my mouth in the very best way.

"Don't stop," I begged when he gave me just enough space to draw breath. "Please."

I was terrified he'd suddenly realize what he was doing and go back to the regretful hecking grump he was after our first kiss in the hotel room.

My brain spun with ideas… well, mostly fantasies… things I'd only dreamed about doing with a guy. But I knew with complete certainty I wanted to do them with this guy.

And I wanted to do them now before he changed his mind and got all… bossy protector… on me again.

"Suck you," I said. The words were muffled against his lips and may have accidentally sounded like the eff-word. I winced.

"Suck," I clarified. "Suck. Like with my mouth. Er… my tongue. My lips? I'm not sure how mpfh ?—"

Reed's tongue entered my mouth again, and his hand crept up to gently hold the front of my throat. An embarrassing sound came from my nose as I gasped in pleasure at his grip.

When he finally finished vacuuming all rational thought from my brain, he pulled back and pinned me with his eyes. "As long as it's not teeth, sweetheart, it'll be good. You sure this is?—"

Now, it was my turn to take charge. Before he could finish his question, I slipped out of his grip and dropped to my knees, accidentally falling sideways a little bit and scrambling to catch hold of something.

That something ended up being a shampoo bottle and a scrunchie poof. The two items shot off the shelf, slipped through my fingers, and clattered around the shower floor.

"It's fine!" I called up to him in hopes he wouldn't interpret the teeny-tiny incident as an indicator that his current sexual partner wasn't actually graceful or suave enough to participate in adult activities. "I'm fine. Everything's fine!"

The small trickle of blood from a new scrape on my knee washed easily down the drain without anyone the wiser.

I straightened up and faced Reed's… impressive manhood. Well, it was an impressive bulge. In his shorts. Because he was still fully dressed. Still. It was… I swallowed around a lump in my throat. Large.

Large and probably in charge.

I inhaled a shaky breath. I could do this. I would do this. And if it was terrible for him, at least he was kind enough not to say anything about it later. Probably. And then I'd have a wild oat fully sown. Which would be something.

Before I could lean forward and begin sowing, Reed leaned down and grabbed me under the arms. "For fuck's sake," he muttered before hauling me out of the shower and standing me on a bathmat.

I stared at him and tried not to register my disappointment. It was too good to be true. Of course it was. And I couldn't blame him for being disappointed .

"Yeah, sure. No, I get it. Super fine."

He turned back to me with a fluffy towel and wrapped it around my shoulders before reaching for my glasses and removing them. He placed them carefully on the vanity before reaching for a second towel to dry my hair. I risked a glance at his face and saw a soft, affectionate expression that surprised me.

"I don't know what you're thinking," he said in a low voice. "But I can tell it's not good."

I forced a smile. "No, it's good. It's really good. I was thinking how lucky I am to have such a good friend who was brave enough to pull me out of the lake after my…" I thought of the words my cousin Nicky had used when I was twelve and the handlebar brakes on my bike had locked, and I'd nearly crashed my bike into a car in the Cellar parking lot. "Stupid stunt."

Reed's eyes darkened. "It might have been ill-advised. I might have recommended a different way of diffusing the situation. But it wasn't stupid, and it wasn't a stunt."

He moved the towel down and began drying every part of me while he stood there fully dressed, dripping on the floor.

"That feels good," I admitted.

"Go get in bed." His voice held a familiar, commanding tone that did things to me. I started to nod when he added, "I'll join you as soon as I dry off."

I wondered if that was when he'd give me the lecture about water safety. After wrapping the towel around my waist, I headed into the bedroom to look for dry clothes.

His voice called after me. "Don't even think about putting clothes on, Chris Winowski."

I nearly ran into the doorframe. "W-what?"

"If you want to finish what you started in the shower, you'll get into that bed naked. If you put clothes on, I'll understand."

My jaw dropped comically before I tossed off the towel, took one giant leap from the doorway onto the bed, and scrambled under the covers.

I tried to control my breathing, but I was still panting heavily when he arrived.

Reed Sunday was miles of hairy-chested lumberjack fantasy come to life. As he entered the bedroom with nothing but a small towel around his waist, I wondered just how desperate he'd have to be to accept a tumble with a guy like me.

But then I remembered Amber's words at the roadhouse.

You're adorable, sweetheart.

I sucked in a breath and remembered the looks of appreciation I'd gotten from some of the men in O'Leary. Maybe I wasn't half-bad. Maybe… maybe after getting some experience with Reed, I would be less awkward and more attractive to other men.

I don't want other men.

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought, but Reed must have misinterpreted it. Because he stopped approaching me and frowned.

"No, yes!" I barked. "Yes! I want this. That was… that was a, um, head shake about something else."

He grinned. "What were you head shaking about?"

I scraped my lip with my teeth and decided to be honest. "I know I'm not a great catch. But I appreciate you?—"

Reed's face turned stormy. "Stop talking. Stop talking right now." He stalked closer and pulled back the covers until I was completely exposed. My manhood was noticeably unmanly, and my legs looked like spaghetti noodles.

"You are fucking gorgeous, and I'm going to prove it to you."

He ripped off the towel from around his waist and dropped it on the floor before stroking his obviously very manly … manhood. "Oh," I squeaked.

Instead of climbing onto the bed so I could give him a blowjob… or attempt one, rather… he knelt at the bottom of the bed and leaned over to press a soft kiss to the inside of one of my ankles.

"Oh," I breathed.

He took his time about it, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses into my skin as he made his way up the inside of my leg to my most private places.

And then he pressed open-mouthed kisses there . Over and over again until I was thrusting into his mouth in mindless desperation, clutching his hair with greedy fingers and babbling incoherent commentary.

My body convulsed as my release hit, and my brain went completely offline the way John Ruffian's communication devices all died in episode… episode…

"Baby?"

I snapped my eyes open and saw Reed's smug face above mine. "You okay?" he asked with a teasing grin.

"Please tell me I didn't call you John Ruffian just now," I blurted. It had always been one of my biggest fears, and considering I'd just thought of the man…

Thankfully, Reed let out a laugh. "No. But you did call me the greatest lover of all time, which I think I'm going to have printed on a T-shirt and noted on my Grindr profile."

I sighed happily. "Do with it what you will. Ten out of ten. Excellent service. Will come again." As soon as my unintended pun hit my ears, my face ignited. "I d-didn't mean?—"

Reed's laughter filled the room and immediately put me at ease. His eyes danced as he gazed at me. "You're beautiful when you come," he said, reaching out a hand to caress the side of my face.

My chest hitched. "Can I… it's only… I'd really like to see what you look like, too. When you c-… release, I mean."

He leaned in and kissed me slowly. The salty edge to his kisses seemed debauched and forbidden. Knowing it was my taste in his mouth made me feel worldly and experienced and… happy. Just really, really happy. Happier than I could remember in forever.

"You can do whatever you want with me," he said, shifting to lie on his back next to me. "I'm at your mercy."

He was big and muscular. His chest and belly were covered in dark hair. I tentatively reached out my fingers to feel the crinkly texture. As soon as I touched him, he sucked in a breath. His nipples tightened, and his stomach clenched.

I watched his cock as I leaned in and pressed a kiss to one of his nipples.

It jumped off his belly.

I tugged his nipple between my teeth and flicked it with my tongue.

His cock jumped again.

I was fascinated by his reactions. I kissed and touched and tasted him, all the while alternating between watching his cock and watching his face. Reed's eyes darkened, and his cheeks flushed, but he didn't say a word.

His chest raised and lowered with rapid breaths, and his cock seemed painfully hard.

He still didn't say a word .

I finally moved down between his spread legs and ran my tongue up his shaft while watching his face. He squeezed his eyes closed, threw his head back, and made a low, guttural sound.

So I did it again. And again. I finally lifted it up and sucked the tip into my mouth, reveling in the salty tang of him and the warm press of his length on my tongue.

I sucked and licked him, learning what he liked and what made that sound come out of his throat. When Reed's hand cupped the back of my head and guided me gently, I purred in satisfaction.

"Just like that, baby. So good. Fuck. Just like that. Your mouth… fuck, baby…"

Once his mouth opened, words began spilling out. They warmed something inside of me and only made me want to please him more. It was exciting and satisfying to bring him pleasure the way he'd done for me.

I reached up and cupped his balls in my hand. He made a choking sound and warned me to pull off. When I didn't, he pulled me off and yanked me up his body to crash his mouth onto mine as the hot wetness of his relief landed on my hip.

He kissed me for several more minutes as his body periodically shuddered until finally, he pulled back and moved to get off the bed.

"Please, Reed," I whispered, trying not to sound desperate and awkward. "Don't… don't leave? I… will you stay with me?"

He brushed the hair back from my forehead and gave me a small smile. "I'm just going to get a cloth to clean you up first."

I let out a breath and lay back against the soft bedding.

When he returned from the bathroom, he laid my glasses carefully on the nightstand next to me before cleaning me up with a wet cloth and climbing into bed again.

Later, after our nap, we kissed some more. I made a quick dinner, and we kissed again. And this time, when it was time for bed, Reed didn't bother pretending he'd be sleeping on the tiny sofa. He climbed right in beside me, took me in his arms, and kissed me one last time.

As I drifted off to sleep, I felt different, somehow. Freer, maybe.

And I was sure everything had changed for the better.

Everything had not changed for the better. The next morning when I woke up and leaned over to give Reed a good-morning kiss, my entire head throbbed like the bass drum in a marching band, and my throat was on fire.

"I'b fide!"

"You're definitely not fine. You're staying here and resting today," Reed pronounced. He pulled the quilt up and tucked it more firmly around me… which was really unnecessary since he was perched on the bed near my hip wearing nothing but a pair of cargo shorts, and the sight of his bare chest already had me uncomfortably warm. "I'll get you some cold medicine while I'm in town."

I sniffed, hoping I sounded offended rather than miserably congested. "But… but I wanded to come wid you."

I'd had big plans for the trip, too. Plans that involved letting Reed go to the hardware store while I dropped by the library to chat with Ms. Dorian and maybe, sort of… use one of the library's computers.

I knew Reed would lose his mind if I suggested getting within ten feet of the internet… but I'd also learned that Reed was overly cautious about everything when it came to me. He didn't think I was capable of climbing ladders, or using a circular saw, or even talking to friendly O'Learians without winding up in grave danger, let alone googling unsupervised.

I wasn't stupid—I wasn't going to make a Facebook post with my location and Reed's identifying information, for gosh's sake. I simply wanted to search my uncle's name to see if there was any public information on his supposed criminal activities.

Reed's Division contacts still hadn't gotten me any of the proof I'd requested, even after five days of me pestering him and him pestering them, and I was antsy. It felt wrong to enjoy myself even a little (and yesterday, I'd enjoyed myself a whole lot more than a little ) while Danny was maybe (okay, probably) in protective custody, all alone, and I hadn't done a single thing to help.

"Mebbe if I had some hod coffee, I'd feel bedder—" I began, not ready to let go of my plans, but Reed shook his head like the conversation was over.

I sighed. I'd also low-key hoped the library might have a book or periodical called Twenty Ways to Convince Your Lover that You're Actually A Competent Person , but apparently, that would have to wait until Reed thought it was safe for me to leave my bed. There was some irony there.

"Or mebbe you could stay here wid me," I suggested hopefully. "We could both, umb… rest?"

Reed lifted one eyebrow. "Both of us in that bed, huh? And you think you'd actually rest?"

I bit my lip at his flirtatious tone. That was flirting… wasn't it? In light of new information, Reed's "pickup" back in Little Pippin Hollow had not actually been a pickup in th e flirty sense, so maybe Van had been right when he said I had no clue what flirtation really looked like. But the implication of Reed's words and the way the look in his eyes made my heart pound suggested this might be it.

I wanted to ask Reed if last night had changed things between us or if it was just a onetime thing, but I'd sort of figured he'd grunt a lot about adrenaline and professionalism. If he was flirting, though, maybe that meant he'd enjoy a repeat as much as I would.

"Sure I would," I said. I tried for a flirty wink in return. "U-unless dere was someding else you wanted to do in dis bed, because if you wanded, we could…" I broke off on an utterly unsexy cough and managed to strangle out, "…do udder dings instead?"

"Udder dings. Tempting, but no." Reed stood and shoved his feet into his boots. "You're sick, Chris."

"But I can'd be sick," I insisted, though the words came out more like a croak. "Nonna used to say I was healdy as a horse. I haven'd missed a day of school or work since I was ten. I don'd ged sick."

"Sure. Just like you don't argue and you don't take risks and you're actually a very boring person." He pawed through the T-shirts he'd stacked on a shelf in the closet and chose a light gray one.

"Exacdly." I sat up. "You understand."

Reed reached out one large hand and gently pushed me back down. "I understand that you took a polar plunge yesterday?—"

"Bud everyone knows you don'd catch colds from being in cold wader, Reed." I sound whiny. I was never whiny. "My nonna used to say?—"

He covered my mouth with his hand. "Unless you're going to tell me that your nonna used to say a severe chill can weaken your immune system, making it more difficult for your body to fight off a virus it might already have contracted, I really don't think I want to know." He frowned and moved his hand to my forehead. "Damn. I think you have a fever."

Come to think of it, that might also explain my uncomfortable warmth, especially since I was still feeling it despite Reed's chest being covered.

"Your choices are these." Reed sat down again. He combed his fingers through my hair, and the gentle tug on my scalp felt so good my eyes shut and my whole brain went numb in an instant. "You listening?"

" Hnnn ," I agreed.

His voice lowered to a rumble. "You can stay here and rest up while I make a quick trip to town for supplies—and I mean genuinely quick, not Chris-level quick, which isn't quick at all?—"

"Uh-huh. I mean, nuh-uh. I mean…" I frowned. "Do the ding wid your hand again?"

Chuckling, he repeated his movement. "Or your other option is that I take you to an urgent care place and get you checked over. You can tell them about your superhuman immune system. I'm sure they'll be impressed."

I sighed. "Bud Ash at the bakery said dey'd have maple bacon cupcakes today. I've never had a maple bacon cupcake."

"Mmm." Reed dragged his fingers over my scalp again. "That's tough."

"And Micah at the flower shop wanded to talk to me about a unicorn-themed charcuderie for his niece's birdday party. I had so many ideas…"

"Uh-huh. They'll keep for a couple days," he soothed.

"And Watt's friend's never seen John Ruffian , so Watt told him we could rewadch the whole series starting tonight. Poor Oliver just broke up with his boyfriend, so he's feeling kind of low?—"

"Jesus Christ," Reed muttered. "Is there a single gay man in this town or the next that you don't know?"

My eyes flew open. "Huh?"

"Nothing. Nothing . I'll let everyone know you're sorry you missed them, okay? And I'll tell Watt you're very contagious," he added darkly.

I sniffed, which made me cough and my head pound until I closed my eyes again and rubbed the spot between my eyebrows. "I guess so. But I'm nod sick, so I won'd sleep, and I'm going to be really bored."

"I'm sure you're right." Reed stood. "I'm going to lock the door behind me, and I'll be home soon. My backup gun is up on the shelf?—"

"Doesn'd matter," I reminded him. I let out a yawn so wide my jaw cracked. "I won'd use it."

"I figured, but I wanted you to know just in case." He leaned toward me and inhaled deeply, almost like he was… sniffing me? Maybe I was sicker than I thought.

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, and before I could wrestle my eyes open to kiss him further, he was gone.

To my surprise, I did fall asleep and only woke up again when I heard Reed's key in the lock, followed by a muffled thud like he'd been carrying something heavy.

"Reed?" I mumbled. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I sniffed cautiously and found that my congestion had cleared up a lot. "What time is it?" The sky outside the small bedroom window was twilight dark.

"Early afternoon." He appeared in the bedroom doorway, dark hair curling and T-shirt splattered with raindrops. "Pretty sure Hen Lattimer at the hardware store is some kind of witch. My weather app said clear skies all day, but the man predicted it was going to storm." A loud boom of thunder shook the small building, and Reed scowled. "And he was right."

He was so adorable when he was grumpy. Unfortunately for me, that was pretty much all the time.

"Did everything go alright? You, um, left quite a while ago," I ventured. I drew my knees up under the covers.

"I did." He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and scowled. "Four hours ago. Four fucking hours for a trip to the hardware store and the pharmacy."

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah. You happened."

"M-me?" I glanced around the room, searching for a clue about what I'd done this time. "I've been here. Sleeping."

"I know." Reed kicked off his shoes, flopped sideways across the foot of the bed, and blew out a breath. Then he turned, propping himself up on one elbow, and pressed a hand to my forehead. "How are you feeling? Seems like your fever broke, and you sound better."

"I'm fine," I assured him. "Totally cured." My voice cracked on the last word. "Or nearly cured, anyway."

"Good." He flopped back down. "I'm sure your fan club will be glad to hear it."

"Fan club?" I leaned forward to peer down at him. "I don't get it."

"When I got to town, I started out at the hardware store." His green eyes fixed on the ceiling. "That was my first mistake."

I frowned. "But Hen's so friendly."

"He is," Reed agreed. "He asked me where my better half was, and I told him you'd caught a cold. He and all the old guys who hang out there already knew what happened at the lake yesterday. I guess Mary-Kate Jefferson is Hen's niece."

"Is she? I didn't know that."

"I wish I didn't know that." Reed sounded aggrieved. "Once Hen heard you were sick, he was so concerned he was ready to drive out here and give you last rites until I convinced him you were okay."

"Aww." I'd only met Hen twice, but I'd gotten the impression that he was a very kind man.

"No, Chris. Not aww ." Reed shifted his eyes to look at me. "Because once I'd finally finished there—after spending forty minutes on a five-minute errand—I went to Hardison's Drug Store and got accosted by Doug Hardison and a couple of other people. Someone from the hardware store must've fucking run down the street to share the news because everyone there believed my husband had pneumonia after his heroic plunge into deep water?—"

"Heroic plunge?" I wrinkled my nose. "Me?"

"Exactly what I said. But I guess Vega got a splinter on the dock, so her uncle came by the pharmacy for ointment and told Doug Hardison about the incident at the lake, and then he told all his customers."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh . One lady complained that Abe Wrigley should never have dug out the bottom of the lake because it was a drowning hazard. Another said she could tell from looking at you that you were delicate, and was I sure you shouldn't be in the hospital? Like I don't know how to take care of my own husband, for fuck's sake." He pursed his lips and shook his head. "Doug Hardison sent you a box of chocolates, and his wife sent along some magazines for you. She wanted me to tell you there's a whole article on charcuterie boards in one of them, which she thought you'd enjoy since she heard you're a charcuterie specialist, and the other has ideas for turning your garden shed into a rustic retreat, which she thought would help with your renovation plans for the cabins." He raised an eyebrow. "Which was news to me since I thought we had no renovation budget and were just making them habitable."

"Well, yessss," I allowed. "But Watt said they can't rent them as they are, right? And they won't have money to renovate until they're rented? So I was thinking… what if we made a little effort to get a couple of them really pretty and maybe also get a couple of the RV parking sites cleaned up? We could attract people now , and then everyone would be…" I coughed. "Better off."

"Sure. Because what we need is more people around. Because it wasn't enough that when I finally managed to get away from the drugstore and headed back to the car, that huge guy you met the other day stuck his head out of the bakery, all ‘Mr. Sunday? We heard Chris got a severe lung infection from his catastrophic plummet into the lake. Is he gonna be okay? Should we send flowers? Should we start a meal train for him?'" Reed shot me another dark look. "If only you'd been there to assure everyone you never, ever get sick."

I pressed my lips together but couldn't help the snicker that escaped.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. While I was talking to him and assuring him that my husband's titanium immune system was handling the infection, his husband brought out a big box of cupcakes for you?—"

"Maple bacon?" I breathed.

Reed's eyes softened. "Yeah, baby. Maple bacon."

I manfully restrained a squeal that was half about the cupcake and half about the endearment. " Yay ."

He snorted. "And then while I was standing there trying to juggle the cupcakes and the shit from the drugstore, the guy at the flower store came out and gave me a giant-ass purple plant for you—which, let me tell you right now, is staying on the porch, because there isn't room in this cabin for all three of us."

My breath caught. "Oh my gosh! Micah is so sweet. I am making him the best unicorn charcuterie board."

"And then while I was trying to wrestle the plant into the car, the lady at the grocery store brought out some soup for you?—"

"No way! Oh." I pressed both hands to my chest. "Reed, this sickness is the loveliest thing that's ever happened to me. Ever ."

"You are insane," Reed pronounced. "Insane. It's not lovely, Chris. I get that everyone means well, but we're supposed to be laying low and hiding out here. Now every single person in Copper County and most of the folks in O'Leary know you. They know me . Small towns are the worst hiding spots ever?—"

I shook my head. "They don't know you."

Reed rolled back to his side so he could glare at me more effectively. "I beg to differ."

"I mean, they know your name, but they don't know you . They don't really know me either… yet. They don't know that you're a Division agent, and they don't know what brought you here."

He pursed his lips. "I guess."

"They don't know if you like football or what your favorite movie is. They don't know that you're bossy and grumpy— well, maybe they've figured that out—but they don't know why . They don't know where you went to school or what your hobbies are. They don't know why you're ridiculously overprotective, or how you got your job, or whether you like white or wheat toast, or what your favorite smell is—mine is jasmine—or why you're so overprotective." I laughed a little. "I mean, I don't even know those things, and I'm your husband!"

"Chris," he began. His voice was gentle, so gentle, and cautious. A tone that meant he was about to let me down gently by reminding me about his job and my uncle and danger and possibly—very likely—adrenaline.

I forced myself to laugh again. "Fake husband, obviously. Fake and temporary husband." I swallowed hard but kept my voice light. "I-I'm just saying, don't knock small towns entirely just because you didn't fit in one of them." I shrugged. "People in the Hollow think they know you because they used to know you, and they don't anymore—not the real you, anyway. So I bet being there feels like… like putting on a sweater from when you were a kid. It's too big in some places, because someone knit it for you to grow into and you never did, and too tight in other places no matter how much you stretch it out. Being here , though…" I leaned forward and put a hand on the rain-damp sleeve of his shirt. "That's a whole other thing. In Copper County, nobody has any preconceived notions about you. You can let people get to know the real Reed Sunday. Knit your own identity so you know it'll fit."

Reed's green eyes fixed on me so intently it felt he was trying to read my mind. I really, really hoped that wasn't one of the skills the Division had taught him because if it was… well, he'd be able to see all kinds of things. Things that would freak hi m out.

And I wasn't just talking about my plan to google my uncle.

I squirmed slightly. "So, um, now that I'm feeling better, maybe we could—" I cleared my throat, which made me cough, which made me sniff loudly.

Reed huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, you're totally better… from that sickness you absolutely didn't have." He did an ab roll and got to his feet in a movement so smooth I could never copy it, even if I practiced for years. "We are not messing around again?—"

Before I could even process the disappointment of that, Reed continued. "—tonight."

That was way less disappointing.

"Stay here," Reed instructed before striding out into the main room of the cabin. I scooted to the edge of the bed and swung my legs over, but then he was back, carrying…

"Is that a… a TV?" I demanded.

"Yup. Did I not get to the part of my day where Watt—your new super-bestie—accosted me on my way out of the grocery store and insisted that I follow him back to his house so he could give you an ancient fucking television/DVD player for you to use during your recovery?" Reed rolled his eyes. With one hand, he opened a folding tray table, then set the small TV on top and knelt to plug it in. "He also gave me this."

He tossed a reusable grocery bag on the end of the bed, and a bunch of DVD cases spilled out.

I gasped. "Is that…"

"Seasons one through three of John Ruffian: Pretender ? Yes." Reed pursed his lips like he was tasting something sour. "Watt may have mentioned bringing the other seasons over at some point so you could watch them together." He set his hands on his hips and gave me a narrow-eyed glare. "But I told him you needed to rest because you had a near-fatal lung infection, and that's nothing to mess around with."

I opened my mouth, then closed it and nodded. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think Reed sounded… jealous? But that couldn't be right.

Reed glanced at the floor. At the door. Out the window. Then at the empty side of the bed where he'd slept last night… and all the nights since we'd gotten here nearly a week ago.

"I suppose…" he began slowly. " I've already been exposed to you." His eyes met mine. "If I was going to get sick, it probably already would have happened."

Though I was almost positive that wasn't true, I nodded again eagerly. "Absolutely. Yes."

"So maybe I could heat you up some soup and then sit with you while you eat it."

"While we, um, watch John Ruffian ?" I felt light-headed in a decidedly non-head-cold sort of way. All my favorite things at once? If I was still asleep, I had no interest in waking up.

"Sure." Reed rocked up and down on the balls of his feet. "I mean, it would probably be good for our cover story if I at least knew what the show was about. If we were really married, I'd have seen the series three times. That's what people in love do , from what I've seen."

"Yeah." Overwhelmed, I could only nod once more. "G-good point."

He nodded once and headed toward the kitchen, but he stopped in the doorway and turned back.

"Cars," he announced .

"Um. What?"

"My hobby. I like cars. My dad was pretty handy with them—with all kinds of machinery, really—and he helped me fix up my first car. It was a 1999 Toyota Camry, but we swapped in a 3.5 liter V6 engine, added headers and a high-flow catalytic converter, and a cat-back exhaust. That thing roared . When I got my Challenger—" He tilted his head toward the car parked outside. "—I always planned to trick it out. Customize it. I haven't made time to do that yet, but I will."

For the first time, I understood why Reed sometimes stared at me uncomprehendingly when I was speaking plain English. "Car" was not a dialect I spoke.

I didn't mind, though. The fact that he was sharing something about himself—anything at all—made me grin at him dopily.

"That's cool! So cool. Thank you for telling me."

"And my government name is… is Ernest Reed Sunday."

"Ernest," I whispered, delighted. "Really?"

"It's not the kind of thing a person would make up, Chris. No one who doesn't share my DNA knows that name," he warned, eyes narrowed. "And I swear to God, you'd better not use it. Five siblings, remember? I've heard it all. I do not respond to Ernie, Ern, or Nessy. I will not find it amusing if you ask me where Bert is. I will not laugh if you say Earnestly , Reed ?—"

Pressing my lips together, I attempted to look solemn and chastened.

"But I figure that's a… a thing a husband should know," he concluded.

There was no way this subject would come up even if we stayed undercover for the rest of our lives. No reason I needed to know this information, except that Reed wanted me to know. No reason to give it to me, except that he wanted me to have it.

To know him, at least a little.

And I would treasure it like the gift it was.

"It is," I croaked. "Super husband-y info. You can trust me, Reed."

He nodded and turned toward the kitchen, only to stop and turn back once more. "Oh, and Chris?"

"Yes?"

"I'm starting to think my favorite scent might be vanilla." His gaze softened, and he winked. "Sometimes, but not always, mixed with lime soda."

I blinked, not really understanding what he meant, but before I could ask, Reed grinned—a full-on devastating grin that made my heart pound and my brain hum happily—and I decided I could ask him about it later.

Maybe after an episode of John Ruffian …

Or ten.