I want to watch as Reese rubs her success in Tiffanie’s face.
I want to see Tiffanie’s reaction at the realization that she failed to destroy her.
I want to bear witness to the downfall of Tiffanie. That makes me just as horrible as she was, but I can live with that because I know no one will ever compare to her back then.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that of the three options, number one is the only way to go. It’s the worst one, everyone will lose if things don’t go perfectly, Reese especially. She’ll get hurt. That’s the last thing I want, but the only way I can really help her is to play pretend.
My fear is that I’ll slip and tell her everything. After deciding it’s best to keep it from her, the last thing I want is to accidentally give anything away. Whether it be today, before the reunion, or later on. That’s the other problem with this plan. No matter what, after this is over, I’ll never be able to remain a part of her life.
After all the lies, the deceit, she won’t want anything to do with me. The truth will reveal itself. I’ll tell her everything, after it’s over. If she’ll still be my friend, I’ll consider myself lucky. I have a feeling she’ll walk away and never look back–like I should do right now.
With a renewed sense of determination, I text her and ask if we can still get together. When she lets me invite myself over for dinner, I’m surprised. She’s letting me into her comfort zone. She’s willing to be alone with me. And she wants me to bring wine.
My heart skips a beat before I can shut it down. This isn’t like that. It can’t be. This is strictly business. I’m sure her invitation is innocent. We need to be able to be next to each other, carry on a normal conversation and play our parts. That’s all this is, even if the thought of it being more excites me.
This is strictly business.
I repeat that to myself the entire drive over to her house. Twice more as I walk up to her door and a third time for good measure as I ring the doorbell.
She doesn’t answer, giving me time to contemplate whether or not I should really be here. My heart says, yes, I want to help her. My head is telling me I need to keep my heart in check. I’ve kept it guarded for a long time. I’m not sure why it’s reacting to her this way. Sure, she’s gorgeous, funny, and kind. She’s obviously smart as hell and stronger than anyone I know, especially if she’s willing to face Tiffanie. There’s something else about her, something I can’t put my finger on, that makes me want to know more about her. Everything. My heart wants to know everything there is to know about Reese Kennedy.
Ringing the bell a second time before I chicken out, Reese opens the door just as I step back.
Opening my mouth to greet her, I stop when I realize she’s blatantly checking me out. Her eyes peruse my body, bringing a smile to my face. I didn’t put any effort into getting ready to come over here, aside from showering, but she seems pleased.
Getting comfortable with her isn’t going to be a problem. Not getting too close is going to be the obstacle.
Before things get awkward for her, I hand over the bottle of wine she asked for. It took me twenty minutes to decide which bottle to get. I’m not familiar with red wine. I read each label carefully, trying to select one that I thought she might like.
“Is something burning?” I ask as a faint smell hits me.
Reese takes off down the hall. I watch her go, enjoying the way her hips sway back and forth as she attempts to rush without running. After she turns the corner, I close the door behind me and head in the direction she disappeared. When I reach the kitchen, I pause, lean against the doorframe, and watch her for a moment. There’s a look of defeat on her face. I want to kiss her and take it away. Shit! Where did that come from?
Once the smell begins to dissipate, Reese visibly calms down. We sit at the counter, nibble on our food, and talk.
Getting personal with her, I ask question after question, not giving her time to ask any in return. Even if she did, I could turn it back around on her. This is about her. If they ask her something about me, she could make it up along the way. If they ask me something about her, I need to know the answer. Not that they ever cared about her at all or knew anything about her.
That’s not the point. She only knows about things from her perspective. I was behind the scenes in a way, and now I get to see things from her side. If I thought it was bad the first time around, this is much worse. In my heart of hearts, I pray that Tiffanie has changed. I hope she’s grown up and isn’t still the self-righteous bitch she once was.
If she lashes out at the reunion, I can’t be held accountable for my actions. I may have held my tongue once when I was young and afraid to stand up for myself. Never again. I promise myself I will keep Tiffanie from hurting her–no matter the cost.
As the wine flows through me, as awful as it tastes, my mind starts to wander. Being this close to Reese, I can’t help but think about her in a different light. Sure, she’s Jane underneath it all behind the mask she’s created for herself. I know this, yet I’m intrigued. Maybe it’s the way her voice vibrates in my chest when she laughs. Or it could be how humble she is when we talk about her career.
The truth of the matter is, it’s probably how real she is. I’ve never been this close to a woman and cared about what she felt. At one point, I cared what Tiffanie thought of me. That didn’t last long. With Charity, it was about the chase, the risk. Never more than that.
With Reese, it feels different. I feel different about her. Before I can stop myself, I’m leaning in, telling her I want to kiss her. Two seconds later, the look on her face tells me that I’ve made a big mistake.
Doing the best I can, I backtrack and attempt to explain myself. I lie, over and over again, to her and myself. Just when I think she might buy it, I feel the red wine churning in my stomach.
I expel it in the toilet as soon as I reach the bathroom. This woman has me twisted up in knots, literally. It has years since I’ve puked from any kind of alcohol. The last time was after doing three keg stands in a row, and the only reason I puked then, was because someone blew smoke in my face from their cigarette. That’s always made my stomach churn.
After splashing water on my face, I take a long look in the mirror in an attempt to get my head back on straight. Images of Reese’s beautiful smile flash through my mind. That’s not helping.
“This is only business. Nothing more. She needs me to help her, and that’s what I’m going to do. Falling for her will only complicate things. I don’t do complicated.”
My words, as strong as they sounded in my head, come out weak and uncertain. Trying again, I sound even worse. I’m falling for this girl. It wasn’t planned. It’s not a good idea. The problem is, it’s already happened, and now, I need to make sure I can do my job without screwing everything up for her.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“You okay in there?” Reese asks through the door.
“Yeah,” I reply with more confidence than I’ve heard from myself in a while. When I open the door, I find her standing in the doorway, looking straight up at me.
Instead of a look of concern, I find a devilish grin on her face. This is a new side of Reese. Until tonight, I had only seen the business side of her and the sadness in her eyes when she told me who she really was. Earlier, I was rewarded with her smile and a few laughs as we talked. Right now, she looks like she wants to eat me alive.
“Dessert?” she asks, her voice rising higher than necessary.
“Sure…” I let my voice trail off. I’m not sure if she’s asking me a question or telling me there’s dessert.
Reaching out, she grabs my hand and pulls me deeper into the house, away from the kitchen. It takes me a second to comprehend the situation. Whatever she has planned can’t be good. I mean, it could be great, it would be great, but it’s not a good idea. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’d be in violation of our contract. In more ways than I can count. This would, in fact, make me a prostitute. I’m not okay with tha
t.
“Reese,” I whisper, pulling her to a stop. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea.”
“You thought it was a few minutes ago,” she says, defensively.
“I’m always thinking about sex. I’m a man. I can’t help it.”
A deep laugh erupts from her throat. Shaking my head at her, I turn to walk away when I feel her grip my arm. Forcing myself to turn around, I find her gasping for breath.
“I’m not trying to seduce you, Hunter. I was thinking about what you said, about kissing, and I thought it might be nice if we were somewhere more romantic than my kitchen that still smells of burnt garlic bread.”
“Oh!” My surprise is evident. “I’m sorry I jumped to a conclusion. It’s just–”
“I get it. But, just for future reference, this is the way to the garage. My bedroom is upstairs.”
Nodding, I quietly follow Reese as she continues down the hall, feeling like a dumbass for assuming.
Chapter Nine
Reese
When Hunter doesn’t return, I go in search of him. I can hear the water running in the sink. Waiting patiently, the water finally turns off, but he doesn’t open the door. I’m forced to knock.
Raising my hand, I take a deep breath and blow it out as my clenched fist softly taps on the door. This needs to happen before I lose my nerve. I’ve never made the first move before. Technically, you could say he attempted to make the first move, but it still feels like I’m taking charge right now.
In my everyday life, that’s the norm. In my personal life, it’s anything but. The last two relationships I’ve been in have failed mainly because I’m so submissive. They were both amazing men, but they wanted an equal relationship, and I couldn’t give them that. I couldn’t make simple decisions. I was afraid to speak my mind, even when they were asking for my opinion. I’m not even sure why. I had opinions on everything, but I could never bring myself to voice them, so I let our relationships die.
My voice squeaks when I offer him dessert. It was the best line I could come up with. In fact, I laughed when I first thought of it. I had hoped he might laugh, too. If only he knew that dessert was code for something else.
Grabbing his hand, I pull him down the hall without another word. His hand is softer than I imagine it would be for some reason. And warm. Heat’s radiating off of him in waves. Being this close to him, knowing where we’re headed, has my heart racing erratically, my breaths coming out harsh.
The only sound in the hall is coming from the shuffle of our shoes across the hardwood and my heavy breathing. When he pulls us to a stop, I think for a brief moment that he finally picked up on the clues I was leaving him.
The second the words pass his lips, I attempt to keep myself from doubling over in laughter, failing miserably. Truthfully, I can see where he would get the impression that I was trying to seduce him. If he knew me better, the thought never would have crossed his mind.
Placing my hand on his arm before he can walk away from me, I explain my actions. Judging by the fact that his mouth drops open slightly, he’s genuinely surprised. After a heartfelt apology, we continue toward the backyard. I checked before heading in search of Hunter. The sky is clear, the stars twinkling brightly above. A perfect setting for a first kiss, even if it doesn’t actually mean anything to either of us.
As soon as we’re on the patio, Hunter wraps his arms around me, pulling my back against his chest. A shudder runs up my spine, so strong that I can’t contain it, and I find myself wiggling against him. Against parts of him that I shouldn’t wiggle against.
Attempting to step out of his embrace, he spins me in his arms and pulls me back. Staring straight ahead, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down twice before his hand appears, lifting my chin so our eyes finally meet. The way he’s looking at me is startling. He’s staring so deeply into my eyes, I feel like he can see into my soul. Hopefully, he can’t read my thoughts. Not the dirty ones, at least, and those are all I’m having at the moment.
Shit! I’m not ready for this. I need a minute to regroup.
He must know I’m planning my escape because he doesn’t give me even a second to process anything. As he leans down, I feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. I’m about to object when his mouth captures mine, stealing my resolve. My eyes close, savoring the feeling. A relaxed feeling courses through my body. My arms, which are currently at my side, go limp. It takes all the strength I have to raise them and hold onto Hunter’s biceps.
Bad idea. They’re flexed and hard as rocks. Moving my hands higher, I wrap my arms around his neck, bringing his mouth closer to mine. As our kiss deepens, a whimper escapes me, and my body sinks further into his.
It’s been too damn long since I’ve been kissed if this is the kind of effect it has on me. No, that’s not it. I’ve never been kissed like this before–that’s what’s different. All my life I’ve been kissing frogs. Right now, I’m kissing a prince. I like it. Too much probably.
This could get dangerous. Fast.
Pulling back, he lets me step out of his embrace, and I turn to look out across the yard, past the mountaintops and up at the stars. They’re brighter tonight than I think I’ve ever seen them.
“I’m glad we got that out of the way,” he finally says from behind me.
“Yeah,” I agree, attempting to sound as casual as he does. My heart is still beating rapidly in my chest. I wonder how long the effects of his kiss will last.
“I think I’m going to take off. Can we go over the final details on Tuesday?”
Tuesday? Shit! We have one more meeting before we leave. I almost forgot. “Sure,” I reply, turning to find him leaning against the house, looking calm and collected. It’s not until I look closer that I notice he’s acting. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his leg is bouncing. The big giveaway is when I notice he’s looking in my direction, but avoiding eye contact.
“Did you want to meet for lunch or dinner?” he asks, pushing himself into an upright position and reaching for the door handle.
“I’ll check my schedule and let you know. I have three closings this week before we leave.”
“Sounds good. Talk to you later, then.” He’s closing the door behind him before I can reply.
It’s flattering to know that the kiss we shared had as much of an effect on him as it had on me, but it’s also concerning. Shouldn’t he be used to this? This is his line of work after all. He’s the expert, not me. Or did I hire the wrong guy?
Panic starts to set in. A million questions run through my mind. I answer them as I go through the motions of cleaning the kitchen, putting dinner away, and pouring myself another glass of wine.
Every possible scenario plays out in my mind, and they all end the same. I’m still a loser. My transformation means nothing. Tiffanie calls my bluff. Our plan is exposed. Everyone is pointing and laughing at me.
Closing my eyes, I attempt to push back the tears that are threatening to fall. Images of high school flash before me. Every horrific moment, every ugly word attacking me. The one that stands out the most is the day in the hall. It’s the one moment that I can’t let go of no matter how hard I try.
Retreating to my room, I kneel down and reach under my bed. Pulling out the battered shoe box, I set it on my bed and close my eyes. It’s been years since I’ve opened it. It’s something I don’t want to face, a constant reminder of who I used to be, of how weak I once was.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly remove the lid. The remnants of what use to be my favorite book lie lifeless inside. I replaced the book, years ago. It’s still a favorite of mine, but I can’t seem to enjoy it as much as I once did.
Carefully reaching in, I pull the stack of loose pages out, setting them aside. The book isn’t what I’m after. Not today. Today I want to remind myself of the strength I found within myself all those years ago. I need to remind myself of why I chose to make a change in my life. Most of all, I need to relive the worst moment of my life. I’ll always b
e thankful for that day, that one moment that changed the path I was headed down. As horrible a memory as it is to relive, it’s also turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
The edge of the blade has oxidized over the years, causing it to turn an orangish-brown in color. If I were to run my thumb over it, I’m sure it would still slice through my skin. Picking it up, I’m surprised at how heavy it feels today.
Over the years, it’s felt lighter and lighter. Not this time. With the reunion in less than a week, it feels heavier than it ever has, even that first day almost eleven years ago.
Slamming my bedroom door behind me, I finally let the tears fall as I sprawl out on my bed. I held strong the rest of the afternoon, not wanting Tiffanie to hear through the grapevine that she finally made me cry. If there was one thing I wouldn’t let her see, it was the overwhelming effect her words had on me. Every. Single. Time.
No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I attempted to block her out, her words always cut deep.
Dabbing at my eyes, I collected myself and drew the zipper on my backpack. Pulling out the remains of Great Gatsby, I attempted to flatten the pages, laying them across my bed. In my fit of rage, I balled them up and threw them in the garbage only to rethink that decision and dig them out after school. One page looked like it had water damage. Another had a piece of gum stuck to it. There was no way I’d be able to put it back together. It was only a dozen pages or so, but she ripped them directly from the center.
I contemplated cutting them all from the spine. I’d use the shell of the book to make a box where I could keep the pages once I had them in order again. All I needed was something sharp enough to cut through the glue and binding.
Heading to the garage, I dug around in my father’s tool box until I came across exactly what I needed. Sliding it out of the casing, the light caught the blade and shined in my eye. It was a simple utility knife, but it was perfect for what I needed.
Sticks & Stones Page 6