“Hello?”
“What the hell?” he barked, undone by an unsettling combination of relief that she’d answered and irritation that she was putting him through these emotional gymnastics in the first place. “You didn’t think to wake me up?”
“Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine,” she said. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
The amusement in her voice only cranked him higher.
So much for being a cool cat.
“I woke up on the wrong side of an empty bed.”
“I left you a note,” she said.
“Note?” he snapped, stomping over to the wrecked bed—yeah, they’d covered a lot of ground with each other last night—and tossing the sheets aside. “What note? There’s no note—what, this?”
Sure enough, there was a blue sticky note from his nightstand underneath the pillow he’d tossed aside when he got up a minute ago.
“Did you find it?” she asked.
Grabbing his reading glasses from the nightstand drawer, he slid them on and read her neat handwriting.
Didn’t want to wake you.
Busy day today.
Talk to you soon?
R
XO
Disbelieving, he read it again, going so far as to flip it over to make sure there was nothing else. There wasn’t, which was quite the kick in the teeth. At least she’d given him the kiss and hug, he supposed. If she’d signed Sincerely or Best, he might’ve been tempted to slit his wrists.
“You still there? Edward?”
“Is this a joke?”
“No.” There was a definite edge of defiance in her voice now. “I don’t see what the problem is.”
She probably didn’t, he thought bitterly, rubbing his forehead, not that that would do anything to ease his mounting frustration. In a valiant effort to keep calm, he took a deep breath and reminded himself he didn’t want to blow this thing with her before it even got off the ground.
“You know what? Forget it. How about breakfast?”
He waited, ears perked and entire body on point, in a pretty pathetic imitation of a beagle on the scent of a pheasant. It didn’t take long for her hesitation to turn into an awkward silence and his hopeful excitement into a crushing disappointment.
“Umm...I don’t really have the time,” she said quietly. He thought he heard a note of regret in her voice, but couldn’t rule out the possibility of his wishful thinking leading him down the garden path. “I’m checking out apartments this morning.”
“Dinner, then,” he said tightly, now closing his eyes and scrunching his face with the effort of keeping his tone upbeat. He felt someone owed him a medal or gold star or something for this outstanding demonstration of restraint. Dinner was at least ten hours away, and he had serious doubts he could go that long without seeing her and determining whether she really meant to blow him off or not.
She hesitated. “I’d better not. I start my new job in the morning.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m a big fan of early bird specials.”
Another hesitation, longer this time.
“I’d better not.”
Even though he’d known this additional rejection was coming, it still hurt like hell.
“Edward? I’d better go.”
“What’s up, Reeve?” he asked gruffly.
Her voice immediately turned wary. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not an insecure person, but I know when I’m being kicked to the curb.”
She laughed in what she evidently thought was a carefree and perplexed manner, but he’d heard enough of her laughter last night to know how false this sounded. “I think you’re overreacting a little. Don’t you?”
“No.” He paused, battling the urge to kick the nearest wall. “I don’t. We started something last night. I thought we were both clear on that. Why are we back to square one?”
This time her laugh sounded shaky. “Maybe I wanted to give you a graceful way off the playing field. Now that it’s the cold light of day and all.”
A lightbulb belatedly clicked on over his head.
Just as he’d suspected, she’d gotten scared and maybe worried he’d try to shuffle her out of his house—and his life—in classic one-night stand tradition. He could hardly blame her for that.
“Maybe I’m not looking to get off this playing field,” he told her.
Her breath caught. The sound, perversely, loosened up some of the tightness in his own lungs.
“Maybe I’m surprised to be on any playing field at all,” she said.
“Maybe I am, too, Reeve.”
“Edward—”
“Did it ever occur to you that I have feelings? That maybe it would hurt me to wake up and roll over and find a cold, empty bed and no Reeve?”
“No,” she admitted softly. “I never thought of that.”
“You should have.”
Striding over to the back window, he glared out at the shimmering blue water in his pool, the phone gripped so tightly in his hand it was a wonder he didn’t crack it.
“I’m sorry.”
He said nothing. The apology mollified him a little, but it was no compensation for being here without her.
“What kind of man are you, Edward? Admitting you have feelings is bad enough, but talking about them, too?”
Remembering all the times over the years that Amber had asked him what he was feeling and complained about his emotional distance, he almost smiled at the irony. “Trust me. No one’s more surprised about it than I am.”
“You’ll be kicked out of the fellas’ club if you keep this up.”
“I’ll risk it.”
They were both quiet for a minute. It was past time for him to let her go and hang up, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to do it. Turning, Edward stared at the rumpled bed where they’d been so close last night and tried not to let his longing for her now turn into a physical pain in his gut.
“When am I going to see you again?” he finally asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I need a minute to think about this. You probably do, too.”
He didn’t.
“You’re going to have to brace yourself, Reeve.”
“For what?”
“The fact that I know exactly what I want,” he said flatly.
* * *
Chapter 12
Reeve hung up and stared at Edward’s house from her shady and partially concealed post under the massive oak tree across the street. She’d been lingering there ever since she left a little while ago and immediately began regretting her impulsive decision to sneak out before he woke up.
The only thing she could say in her defense was that it’d seemed like a good idea at the time.
Having woken early and spent several minutes staring at the strong and fascinating planes of his relaxed face, noticing every tiny detail about him, like the length of his thick eyelashes and the perfect Cupid’s bow of his upper lip, she’d begun to feel the first stirrings of unease.
What had she done? Slept with a man on the day she met him? What, was she stupid?
Yeah, actually. Apparently she was quite a bit stupider than she’d suspected.
He’d wanted her to stay the night, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted the awkward morning-after task of hustling her out of his house with vague promises to text her when he had time because, try to understand, he was a very busy guy who hadn’t been looking for any new entanglements.
No, thanks. She’d pass on that whole cringeworthy scenario.
What she hadn’t counted on was having second thoughts and wondering if she should’ve stuck around.
She’d barely walked out to his front porch and clicked the door shut behind her when she’d begun to regret her impulsivity. Begun to miss him and wonder if there might be more to last night than last night. Begun to wonder if there was the tiniest possibility that something could develop between them and if their amazing interlude together last night was the
prelude to more wonderful things.
That was about the time that The Black woke up from his—yes, The Black was male; she had no idea why—peaceful night’s sleep and began to whisper more of his scathing venom into her ear.
Blew it again, didn’t you, Reeve?
You always blow it.
And why would you think you deserve happiness with some other guy when Adam—the man you swore to love and cherish, what was it—all the days of your life?—is lying in his early grave?
With this cocktail of indecision churning inside her, she walked across the street, hesitated under the oak tree, and was wondering whether to go back to Edward when the phone rang and it was him, not five minutes after she’d left his bed.
So much for thinking he wouldn’t miss her, eh?
His sour mood had both thrilled and dismayed her. Edward was really interested in her! He didn’t want her gone in the cold light of day! Yay! And, on the other hand: wow, Reeve, your instincts really do suck most of the time, don’t they?
You always blow it.
Fear of blowing something else was what had kept her out here, instead of going back in there. In there, they’d have more mind-blowing sex, and with her mind further blown, it would be that much harder to think about this and give their budding relationship thoughtful consideration, which she fully intended to do.
So, Reeve.
Think.
Frowning, she shot a quick and final glance at Edward’s house and headed down the sidewalk and up the hill, toward Sofia's house.
And thought.
Her first conclusion?
She thought too damn much.
It was true. Between her guilt-riddled thoughts about Adam and his mother, her angst-ridden worries about school, her residency and her career, and fretful concerns about all the minutiae of her life—her weight was creeping up again; she hadn’t exercised like she should have last week; the Saab was probably going to die soon, and she didn’t want to spend money on a replacement, not just yet; and would she find an apartment today?—she was exhausted.
She was like some twisted modern-day version of Sisyphus, forced to maneuver the crushing weight of her thoughts up the hill every day and surviving by the skin of her teeth. Only to have to do the whole thing all over again tomorrow.
Well, she was sick of it, she decided as she topped the hill and caught sight of Sofia’s huge gray clapboard several houses down. Sick of wearing herself out before she even got out of bed in the morning. Sick of being anxious about every damn thing in her life.
What would happen if...
She could hardly think the thought, it was so revolutionary to her fear-crippled psyche.
But...
What if she just had fun with Edward and saw where it took them, with no expectations, no fears and no regrets? That could work, right? Other people seemed to do it all the time, and they were still standing. Say they spent three glorious weeks together, or a month, or a year, and then he dumped her. Her heart might be broken, yeah, but would she die? No. Would she still be young, healthy and alive, which was more than Adam had?
Yes.
And she was young. Only twenty-six, for God’s sake. If she weren’t lighthearted and carefree now, when would it ever happen?
She and Edward were consenting adults who enjoyed each other. They were both single, and it wasn’t like there were kids involved or other major complications they’d have to navigate. They’d both had significant first loves in their past, but who hadn’t? In her entire life going forward, this was as easy and unencumbered as a relationship of hers was likely to get, so why not seize the day with him?
You only live once, Reeve.
And it’d been years since she’d lived as fully as she had last night with Edward.
Edward.
Her face burned white hot at the way he’d owned her last night. There was no other way to think about it, no other way to put it. He’d owned her. Turned her inside out. Rocked her world— Uh-oh. What was going on here?
She walked the final few feet up the sidewalk to Sofia’s house, which was a buzzing hive of activity way out of proportion for this early on a postholiday morning. Two big vehicles were on the scene. The first was a gleaming white pickup truck parked on the street in front of the house. It was the heavy-duty variety, with several trees and shrubs and all kinds of yard implements in the bed. The lettering on the door said something about landscape design, but she couldn’t read the whole name because the landscaper, a tall, good-looking dark-skinned guy wearing a baseball cap, pristine white polo shirt, khaki cargo pants and work boots was leaning against the truck, idly doing something with his phone.
When he looked up and saw her coming his way, he gave her an ironic smile.
The reason for this amusement was apparently the second vehicle, which was a flatbed truck backed into the driveway in front of Sofia’s precious new SUV. A burly and surly guy, red-faced, heavily tattooed and wearing a blue jumpsuit, seemed to be in the process of loading the SUV onto the truck.
“That doesn’t look good,” Reeve said to the landscaper. “What’s going on?”
“Out here, dude’s repossessing the sick ride,” the guy told her. “Inside, the wife seems to be ripping the husband a new one. I went up to ring the bell, but decided against it. I’m supposed to be planting the yard, but I figured I’d stay out here where it’s safe. At least until things calm down and I make sure Mr. and Mrs. Happy Couple can still pay me.”
“Oh, God.”
“That about sums it up. Are you a neighbor?”
“Best friend,” Reeve said grimly. “With the unfortunate honor of staying with them for a few days.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I’d better go in there.”
The guy grinned and raised his brows, treating her to a startling display of dimpled hotness. “Is your life insurance paid up?”
“Very funny. You just dial nine and one. I need you on standby to dial the other one in case I don’t come back out right away. You can tell the police and the EMTs what happened to me.”
“Will do.”
Shooting the repo man a filthy glare that he was too busy filling out paperwork on his clipboard to notice, she walked up the path to the front door, which was ajar.
Sofia, Reeve quickly realized when she poked her head inside, had lost her mind in a way Reeve had never seen before.
“But you told me!” Sofia screeched. She and Toby were toe-to-toe in the sunny foyer, squaring off from either side of the sisal rug, and it was obvious they’d both just rolled out of bed. Toby, all six-eight of him, most of it gone to flabby seed since he’d torn his ACL last year, thus threatening his NFL career before it’d ever gotten very far, wore a ratty Jets T-shirt, boxers and flip-flops. Sofia had thrown a short cotton robe over her tank top and pajama shorts, but her hair was still wrapped in its hot pink satin sleep scarf, and her feet were bare. “I asked you if you’d paid the note, and you stood right there and lied to my face! Lied! Right to my face! How long has this been going on? Because we both know the bank doesn’t repossess a car when the note’s a couple days late!”
“What difference does it make?” Toby bellowed, his light-skinned face nearly purple with rage. His angry voice, in the confines of the foyer, was like being blasted with a foghorn at close range, and Muffin, who’d been hiding under the console, streaked past on his way elsewhere, hissing his displeasure. “I ran out of cash and I didn’t pay a couple of notes. I talked to the bank, and they sounded cool with it, but it looks like they weren’t. What do you want me to say?”
“What do I want you to say?” Sofia spat, incredulous. “Why don’t you start with why you didn’t mention it? Why didn’t you ask me for a loan to cover—”
“I’m not asking my woman for a loan! I can take care of us!”
“Apparently you can’t!” Sofia laughed derisively. In that overheated moment, Reeve wanted to clap her hand over Sofia’s mouth because she knew she was about to say s
omething she could never take back, something unforgivable, but Reeve was glued to her spot in mute horror, and none of this was any of her business anyway. “Who paid the mortgage last month? Me! Who covers the utilities and the groceries? Me! Who works her ass off all day while you sit around on your ass all day and talk to your agent about tryouts with other teams when we all know you’re not in shape to try out for the local high-school football team? Me! And when you could be making money commenting for ESPN or some other channel, you turn down serious job offers so you can pursue your ridiculous pipe dreams!”
“Sofia!” Reeve cried, but the damage was done, and her friends didn’t even seem to notice her.
Toby, the local sports hero, so big and proud, recoiled like a grizzly that’d stepped into a steel trap.
Sofia, breathless after hurling so much poison, seemed to immediately realize she’d gone too far and took a quick step forward to put a hand on Toby’s arm. “Toby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Toby, whose face was a twisted wreck of shock and hurt, shook her off.
“Now who’s lying in whose face?” he asked quietly.
A movement behind her distracted Reeve. It was the repo man, who knocked on the door and cleared his throat. “You can come clear out your personal items before I take it.”
This, finally, seemed to startle Sofia and Toby out of their mutual animosity. They both looked around at the man, Sofia’s honeyed skin flushing scarlet.
“How do you live with yourself, man?” Toby asked the guy.
Repo Man shrugged and shot him a wry smile. “Don’t blame me. I got bills to pay just like you do, buddy.”
Toby, looking perilously close to tears, made a derisive sound, flapped a dismissive hand the size of a dinner plate and stalked off toward the kitchen, muttering darkly.
But Sofia lifted her chin, belted the robe around her waist and somehow managed to look like the Queen of Everything as she glided past Repo Man without looking at him and headed outside.
Reeve, after a hopeless glance in Toby’s direction, followed.
The landscaper had apparently decided to risk coming as far as the porch, and stepped aside as Sofia swept down the walk in all her pink head-scarfed glory. He didn’t seem to notice Reeve come over to stand beside him but watched, arrested, as Sofia climbed up into the SUV with much display of shapely legs and butt.
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