And I’m left packing the goddamn dispensers with napkins and wondering what the hell I just agreed to.
“What. The. Fuck?”
I’ve been questioning myself repeatedly as I navigate through Miami’s usual gridlock at rush hour. When I pull up to Callie’s apartment building two minutes before five, it takes me more time than I’d like to find an open spot. Once I put the vehicle in park, I text her to let her know I’m here.
Why the hell did I invite Callie? I’ve never told anyone or brought anyone along with me on Thursdays.
Ever.
It’s not that I’m ashamed. That’s the furthest from it. I cherish my Thursdays because it’s time I get to spend with the one woman who’s always had my heart.
I focus on my left hand as I strum my fingers against the steering wheel. Maybe she’ll text me back to say she can’t make it and—
A knock on the passenger side window startles me, drawing me out of my thoughts. Turning to look, I’m faced with an additional reason this is a terrible idea.
Callie pulls open the door and slides onto the passenger seat, her features cheerful. “Hi!”
She’s wearing a dress. Dammit. I raise my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, grateful my sunglasses disguise my eyes. Because, make no mistake, it’ll be a losing battle to keep my eyes off her.
Her dress isn’t as form-fitting as those pencil skirts she wears for work, but it’s more snug across her breasts. And I detect the instant the air-conditioning I have cranked in my truck elicits a reaction from her.
Or, to be more exact, from her nipples.
“Fuck.” I practically grind out the word between clenched teeth and drag my eyes away to stare blindly out the windshield.
She gives a little huff of exasperation. “Nice to see you, too.”
“I—” Yeah, there’s no explaining that one without getting slapped. “Buckle up, Rainbow,” I manage to utter.
“Yes, sir.” Out of the corner of my eye, she primly salutes me.
Smartass.
I wait until I hear the telltale click of her seat belt before I carefully pull onto the street and navigate the familiar route I take every Thursday. I thumb the button on my steering wheel to adjust the volume of the radio currently playing a catchy song.
“Ooh, I love P!nk,” Callie comments softly before she begins to sing along in a subdued voice.
Why can’t she be tone deaf and rude? And less attractive while we’re at it? Anything?
I turn into the drive and when Callie spots the sign, I feel the weight of her gaze resting on me. Questioning. Curious. Possibly confused.
Once I park, I turn off the ignition and release my seat belt but don’t immediately move to exit. I sit, staring straight ahead, finally realizing the magnitude of my actions.
I’m bringing a woman here with me.
“Reid?” Her tone has threads of hesitance in it.
I release a long, slow breath before I turn to face her. “Look. There are a few things you need to know before we walk in there.”
Her sable eyes are wide, and I can practically feel them drawing me in. “Okay…”
“I’ve never brought...” I break off to rephrase. “I’ve never had anyone tag along before. So this means there’s a good chance you’ll be bombarded. But there’s one thing you need to understand.” My tone turns cooler, more steely. “This is something you don’t mess with. This is personal.”
Meaning: Don’t fuck with me about this and throw it in my face at work.
Slowly, she nods. “Got it.”
I nod perfunctorily in return and abruptly exit the vehicle. I drag a hand roughly through my hair and wait for the sound of Callie’s footsteps to draw near. Once she approaches, I lift my chin in the direction of the building with the sign marking it as the Social Hall.
“There’s likely a decent-sized crowd in there tonight. Usually it’s around fifty or so. They always love Thursdays.” The corners of my mouth tug upward with fond memories that always wash over me from my times spent here. “Especially since they hate the other person who comes on Tuesdays.”
Without waiting for Callie to respond, I set off for the paved sidewalk that splits the neatly mowed lawn. Various flowers are planted here and there to give it color.
“Um, Reid?” Callie speeds up to maintain my pace as we near the building’s entrance. “So...what exactly are we doing here?”
I reach for the handle of the door, then turn slightly, using my other hand to slide my sunglasses up to rest on top of my head. Peering down at her, I tug open the door and gesture for her to enter.
“You’ll see.”
It doesn’t take her but three steps inside before she stops dead in her tracks with what appears to be an expression of shock lining her features.
“Bingo?”
I stride right past her. “Bingo.”
14
Callie
“Bingo?”
I expected a lot of things to come of out Reid’s mouth. Maybe underwater cave spelunking, a craft beer making class, or even bikram yoga, even though it was clear when I mentioned hot yoga yesterday that he had no clue what that even meant.
Bingo was not even in the realm of possibilities I had in mind.
“You heard me. You in or out, Callie?” His smile is tight, and I know he’s leaving the ball in my court, which is probably a first in our… God, I don’t even know what this is anymore. I feel like once a guy has had his hands up and down your pants, you’re past acquaintanceship.
I search his face once more, checking to see if I’m being Punk’d. I don’t see any cameras around, and I think it’s ten years past Ashton Kutcher’s prime.
His gaze rakes over me. This guy who’s fierce and protective...and a bingo player? Something just doesn’t add up. But I am interested enough to try to connect the dots.
“In,” I say. Because really, what are my other options? Have him drive me all the way back to my apartment and spend the rest of the night surfing social media that never has anything that interesting? Yeah, that doesn’t seem nearly as appealing as finding out the deep dark secrets of Reid Morgan. Stealth bingo life and all.
He gives one final nod and turns toward the door. “Hope you’re ready for a wild night.”
What is he that worried about? How crazy can the elderly get over a damn game? “Am I going to get mauled with a rogue bingo dotter if I call out a win before Granny?”
“It’s a real possibility,” he deadpans, but his lips lift in the corners, exposing a ghost of a dimple. Reid has an easy smile he gives customers and employees of On Tap, but rarely have I seen that dimple make an appearance. My heartrate ratchets up a notch.
I swallow hard and surreptitiously wipe my damp palms on the fabric of my dress. Normally, I have no problem with the unknown. I’ve always gone into new situations with a smile and a conversation starter at the ready. But this time feels different.
Just as we’re heading through the doors, he stops and says, “I’m serious. This is your last out. I won’t be mad if you want me to drive you home.”
I cross my arms over my chest. This is just getting weird now. I’ve never seen him this out of sorts. Although I have to admit, it’s kind of adorable. “Reid, you’re acting weird. Just take me inside.”
He nods and opens the door.
The social hall is like any other—nondescript cement building, linoleum floors with years of skid marks and wear and tear. That light scent of cleaning products and funk etched into the walls. Across from the entrance, hooting and hollering booms out of the banquet room.
“Reid, sweetie. In here.” A woman sitting at one of the tables nearest to the door motions him in. She has a walker parked next to her with a bright yellow tennis ball fastened to the bottom of each leg.
“Hope you’re ready,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Of course, sweetie,” I say, brightly.
He shoots me a look, and is it bad that I find it totally endearing? We wal
k up to the woman who waved us over, a smattering of bingo cards spread across the table in front of her.
The woman puts down her bingo marker and shines a megawatt smile at Reid. She’s wearing a leopard print jacket and bright red lipstick. I so want to be her when I get older.
Eyes surrounded by laugh lines fix their attention on me. “And who is this pretty young thing?”
“Look at that butt. I used to have a butt like that. Before the menopause hit,” says a woman next to her with a bright red beehive hairdo while fanning her face with one of her bingo cards.
“Edna, what did I say about commenting on people’s butts?”
“Yes, yes. I need to at least know their name first.” The redhead rolls her eyes and then winks at me.
Reid clears his throat. “Grandma, Edna, this is Callie. She’s a...” He hesitates, and his gaze rakes over me, sending a shiver up my spine. “Friend.”
“Come here.” She motions him down, and he obliges. And then she wheels back and smacks him on the back of the head with a few of the bingo cards. “A woman this beautiful deserves to be more than a friend.”
I fight a smile. I like Reid’s grandma.
“Grandma,” he warns, but there’s a whole lotta love in his eyes. It’s…adorable. Something I certainly never thought I’d associate with Reid.
“Don’t give me any of that. We’ve been waiting for you to get the party started.” Her voice lowers to a stage whisper. “Gladys is already breaking into the Werther’s. You know how I feel about slurpy mouth sounds.”
“Don’t worry, Grandma. I’ll set up really quick and get started.”
I turn to him, shooting a questioning glance.
He gives a shrug, suddenly looking very shy. “I announce the bingo games.”
Just as he says this, a mob of older ladies surrounds him, oohing and aahing over him. He assures them he’s starting soon, and they all reluctantly return to their seats, one pinching him on the butt before she leaves.
“I saw that, Gladys!” Reid’s grandma shouts. “Keep your hands off my grandson.” She turns to me and says, “Have to watch out for her. She likes to get handsy.”
My lips twitch. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. You promised him you’d be cool.
Reid’s eyes lock with mine, and my resolve breaks. Nope. Not happening. A giggle bubbles up, and I cough to cover it up.
“Go on. Say it,” he says.
“Okay, I can’t take it anymore.” Laughter erupts and tears well in my eyes. “You’re like the Mick Jagger of retirement communities. What’s it like to have granny panties thrown at you while you spin the bingo wheel?”
He’s clearly unamused by this. “It’s a bingo cage. And if you tell anyone, I will make your life miserable.”
“More than you already do?” I raise my brow. Honestly, he’s been uncharacteristically nice lately.
He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I haven’t even been trying. Good to know I have such an effect on you.” His stubbled cheek brushes against my skin, and I fight a shudder.
He straightens. Focusing on the older women, he puffs out his chest and beams his best smile. “Who’s ready for some bingo?”
All the women cheer.
“Come sit by me, dear. You don’t want to be caught between Edna and Gladys when they start their peacocking. Bingo cards tend to fly.”
“Good to know.” I pull out the chair next to Reid’s grandma and take a seat.
I cross my legs and stare at Reid as he makes his way to the front of the room. His jeans are snug, fitting perfectly over his ass, and damn is it a sight. “Does Reid pawn all his friends off on you on bingo night?”
She looks at me and furrows her brow. “No, sweetie. This is the first time he’s brought someone here.”
Her words sink like an anchor in my stomach. I’m the first? What does that even mean? Of course, by pestering him about his secretive day off, I kind of forced him to bring me here, but Reid is protective enough that he wouldn’t bring someone he doesn’t trust to something so sacred.
I look up as Reid is turning the hand crank on the old-fashioned bingo cage. All the balls are inside, churning as he cranks the handle. He stops, opens the small door, and plucks out a ball. As if sensing my eyes on him, he lifts his gaze, and it clashes with mine. His gaze is molten, liquifying my insides, with a look that promises more than a prize is in store for the rest of the night.
“He’s lucky to have you, you know.”
Say what? I don’t know what she thinks is going on, but she is definitely mistaken. I shake my head. “Oh, no. It’s not like that. We’re not dating.”
Reid’s grandma gives me a look. It’s one that practically hollers, Bullshit, young lady.
“We’re not. Even if we wanted to, we can’t. We work together.” Tom made it abundantly clear that On Tap remains a professional establishment. Plus, once I’m done with my training, I’ll be in charge of Reid. That would just make things way too messy for my liking.
“Did Reid ever tell you how I met my late husband, Teddy? God bless his soul.”
I shake my head and lean in, trying to block out the noise from excited bingo players.
“We used to work together at a milling company. I was a secretary, and he worked on the machinery. He used to come in every day at lunch and bring me a flower. He asked me out ninety times before I said yes.”
“That’s an impressive level of persistence.” Also kind of stalkerish, but I leave that part out.
She nods and smiles. “It is. And he had the same fire in his eyes that Reid does when he looks at you.”
Uh. What do I even say to this? Instead, I just nod.
I regard Reid as he announces each ball. Our gazes connect from across the room, and I can’t deny it. I feel it—that fire Reid’s grandma just mentioned. With only one look from him, my blood begins to heat.
“Oh, yes.” I jerk from my Reid-entranced state to find Reid’s grandma eyeing me with knowing amusement. “That’s the fire, all right.” Then she leans in close and lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve got a feeling you’ll be yelling ‘Bingo’ later.”
Oh, boy.
My eyes betray me, instantly finding Reid again. And when our eyes lock, I can’t help but hope Grandma’s right.
“Thanks again for coming tonight. My grandma likes you.” His expression is thoughtful, almost tender.
“She’s great.” And I mean it. Reid’s grandma makes me wish for one of my own. One who doesn’t take crap from anyone, loves her grandchild fiercely, and is just plain fun. “She”—I hesitate slightly—“raised you?”
Reid pulls his truck into my apartment complex parking lot. When he turns off the ignition, I flash him a startled look. I figured he’d do the same as when he picked me up and I’d be dashing to the front entrance of my apartment complex solo.
He stares through the windshield before fixing his blue gaze on me. “Yeah. They stepped right in after my parents passed and…” He lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, the edges of his lips tilting up slightly. “The rest, as they say, is history.”
I’m unsure of what to say. Instead, I reach over for his hand and give it a quick, comforting squeeze in the silence of the truck. His eyes are watchful, searching. For what, I’m unsure. “I’ll walk you up.”
Without waiting for my response, he exits the vehicle, leaving me to scramble to release my seat belt and follow suit. Just as I reach for the handle, the door opens and Reid’s tall form towers over me.
I allow my eyes to travel greedily up along his legs, appreciating the way the worn denim of his jeans hugs his thighs. Don’t stare at his crotch. Don’t stare at his crotch. Don’t sta—
“My eyes are up here, Rainbow.”
Shit.
With a brief wince, I clear my throat and force an attempt at bravado before stepping out of the vehicle. Nonchalantly, I step past him and toss over my shoulder, as casually as can be, “Just thought I’d check and see if Gladys and Edna were righ
t.”
The sound of the truck door shutting is quickly followed by an inquisitive, “About?”
And his voice is deeper sounding, a touch gravelly, and...intimate. Three qualities that send a rush of warmth between my thighs.
Not breaking my stride toward the doors to my building, I grin, knowing he can’t see it since he’s behind me.
“About your sizeable package.”
I tug open the door and quickly step inside, my smile widening at the choked sound Reid emits.
15
Reid
I’ll admit it. She threw me off with the “sizeable package” bit, and I had to rush to catch up to her. Callie lives in one of the nicer apartments in town, one that has a marble entryway and a front desk that’s manned twenty-four seven. I’d looked into this place when I was apartment hunting a few years ago and know this is way out of my price range. I vaguely wonder how she’s paying for it since a management position at a bar couldn’t possibly pay enough for rent here. Unless Tom’s been holding out on me.
I’m grateful we’re alone, aside from a front desk attendant preoccupied with his crossword puzzle.
Once the elevator doors open and we step inside, I move to lean against one side of the car. I rock back and forth, sliding my hands in my pockets. She mimics my actions, those lips of hers quirked slightly as if I amuse her.
I’d like to do a whole hell of a lot more than just amuse her.
We arrive at her floor, and I wave my hand, indicating she should precede me. Honestly, it’s a cross between being a gentleman and the simple fact that I get to watch the gentle sway of her hips when she walks in front of me. What I wouldn’t give to slide my hand beneath her dress, dip my fingers inside her, and see if she’s as wet for me as she was last weekend.
Fuck. I need to get my shit together. This can’t happen. For a shit-ton of reasons, which we both seem to realize. At least that’s why I’m assuming she’s gone so quiet since I parked my truck in the apartment complex lot.
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