Chapter 13 #3
Three words: Lila Fucking Kent.
Instead of our bizarre connection fading into the background—the way I assumed it would—my attraction to her only intensified. It grew roots, holding me not in place, but to her.
At least, that’s how it felt back then.
So many times, I almost left. I never could pull the trigger. I was ensnared in her trap. Worst of all, I had no desire to claw my way free. In my dumbass, hormone-filled, twenty-something brain, I’d been convinced Lila was the missing piece of me.
I was such a fucking fool.
What once seemed like roots grounding me to her eventually felt like chains. And I’d locked myself in them in my pathetic attempt to fill that damn crater in my chest. The one that split me wide open when I was only four.
For a long time, I believed such a thing was possible—that I could be whole. Lila made me believe it. Not with her words, but with our every interaction and how right it felt. Every lingering look. Every flirty encounter. Every shared joke or almost kiss. Every fucking minute I was in her orbit.
Everything about her convinced me love could heal. And maybe I could belong and be accepted for who I was.
Who I still am—a broken man.
Kenzie continued to do everything in her power to keep us apart. Five years ago, she lost that battle. Two days later, I lost Lila.
Not long after, I finally got accepted at the bureau.
My career became even more important to me.
With Dad gone and buried, I didn’t have a good reason to see Mom or Kenzie, and so we gradually lost touch.
Although I tried to convince myself that Lila was dead to me, she was always there in the back of my mind.
I don’t like not knowing much about the last several years of her life. Did she ever go to college? How did she end up working at a casino? Did she ever find love?
And is she happy?
If there’s a silver lining to Andrews’ harebrained plan, perhaps I can sate my curiosity.
Starting tonight.
“We’ll take my car,” Kenzie offers, spinning her keys around her index finger. “Reed, you should probably drive yourself in case you need to leave for work or something. I’d imagine you're often called away. Big important FBI agent that you are.”
Incredibly suspicious, considering the source. Nobody has ever accused my sister of giving two shits about the needs of others.
She’s right, though.
“Sounds good.”
Lila scans the parking lot. “Where’s your car?” A common question for her, I’m noticing.
My vision catches on her ample cleavage, but I force myself to look at her eyes. “I drove my motorcycle.”
Her jaw sags, and her voice quivers. “You have a motorcycle?”
I’d planned to convince her to go for a ride with me if she’d agreed to the date. The mere idea of her wrapped around me is incredibly enticing for obvious reasons. And I figured she’d enjoy the ride. Win-win.
“Yep.” I stride toward my bike, glancing over my shoulder at her. “Want to ride with me? I have an extra helmet.”
“Oh, heck no. I could never. Those things are death traps.”
Turns out, it was not a win-win.
“Nah. I’m a very safe driver. You can trust me.”
Keep your mouth shut, Morgan Freeman. Don’t you dare contradict me.
Mental silence.
Nice. Turns out the fictional narrator in my mind can be controlled if I concentrate hard enough. Or maybe that slight break with reality is over. I hope so.
Lila shakes her head violently, backing toward Kenzie’s car. “Nope. No way.”
I shrug. “Your loss.”
In truth, it’s my loss. Lila would make a sensational backpack. Imagining those thighs pressing against me is enough to make me hard as granite if I think about it too long.
Surprisingly, we agree on a restaurant without any fuss and head out. Fifteen minutes later, our trio is led to a booth at a cozy tap house with a full menu. Lila takes the spot next to Kenzie, leaving me alone on the other side of the table. Unfortunately.
Over the top of my menu, I glance at Lila, catching her looking at me. Instantly, she thrusts her eyes down. What I can see of her cheeks grows ruddy.
When the server drops off our beverages, Kenzie offers me a casual smile. “Reed, how’s the FBI treating you? Do you stay in town mostly? Or travel?”
“Occasionally, I’m taken out of the state, but Florida’s got enough to keep our team busy. You know what they say? Come on vacation, leave on probation, then return on violation.”
Lila giggles adorably, but Kenzie shakes her head at me and offers an indulgent one-note chuckle.
“What kind of cases do you work?” Lila asks.
“I’m working violent crimes now. Bit of a step up from my last assignment.”
Her face blanches. “Sounds dangerous.”
Kenzie puckers her lips at Lila in a mocking fashion. “Aww, are you worried about my big brother?”
Bingo. There it is. That’s what I fucking hate about their relationship. My sister is forever mocking Lila under the guise of friendly ribbing.
“No. Not at all,” Lila lies through her pretty polished teeth. “Just making conversation. I’m sure Reed is perfectly capable of keeping himself safe. I’d imagine they have very thorough training.”
I press my hand to my sternum in jest. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m sure it’s only fifty percent sarcasm.”
Her silky hair cascades down her shoulders as she tilts her head dramatically. “It’s seventy-five percent, actually.”
We lock eyes for the briefest of moments, and for the first time in a while, I don’t see open hostility reflecting. It’s something far warmer, reminding me of how she looked at me before that night we shared about five years ago.
That perfect fucking night I relive in my wettest dreams. Try as I might, I can't erase those memories.
The sound of her shocked gasp when I touched that special spot deep inside her.
The quickening of her breath in my ear when she was approaching her climax.
How fiercely she gripped my shoulders when I slid inside her delectable pussy.
The way her soft, supple body cradled me perfectly.
And the beautiful sounds that exploded from her when she came, all her screams and pleasure-filled cries cushioned by my name.
If only the days that followed gave us more of the same instead of the bomb that blew us to pieces.
My sister downs her beer like she’s pledging a fraternity, quickly flagging down our server to order another.
When it doesn’t instantly materialize, she huffs and whips her head toward the bar. “Where’s that fucking guy? How long does it take to pour sixteen ounces into a damn mug?”
Lila leans close to my sister, keeping her voice low. “He’s busy. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten.”
“He better not, or he can kiss his tip goodbye.”
Such class and grace.
The server appears a few moments later with her beer. “I’ll be right back with your appetizer.”
Lila flashes her candy-coated smile at him. “Thank you. No rush.”
Immediately, Kenzie goes to work on her beer. She’s more like Dad than she cares to admit.
I tsk at her. “Thirsty, sis?”
With a showy huff, she lowers the mug to the table. “Cut me some slack. I’ve had a rough few days.”
The flippant comment reminds me of what I’m supposed to be doing here—investigating. No reason to only pump Lila for info when Kenzie is probably involved too. More than likely, she’s the one who dragged Lila into a mess.
I pounce on the opportunity. “Oh, why is that?”
“Boy trouble,” she hedges.
Lila’s frame stiffens ever-so-slightly, which I only notice because I’m paying close attention to their body language. Just like I would when interviewing a suspect or witness. It’s not always what’s said, but what isn’t.
“Not that you care,” Kenzie adds under her breath.
Unable to let the jab slide, I calmly reply, “The phone works both ways.”
She doesn’t answer, just curling her upper lip at me before guzzling down more beer.
Honestly, why is it always on me to reach out? It doesn’t have to be this shitty between us. Same with Mom.
Fucking Andrews’ talk about family has infiltrated my conscience. I almost forgot that I don’t give a shit.
The vibe shifts, the old familiar tension between us returning with nothing more than a few words.
Perking up, Lila glances around the restaurant. “Where is our appetizer?”
An obvious attempt to change the subject.
“Psh. As if you’re going to eat fried jalapeno poppers,” Kenzie scoffs.
Lila shrugs. “Fair.”
An uncomfortable silence settles over us at the table as I struggle to control my frustration. Too bad I’m not here alone with Lila. The thorn beside the rose drastically lessens my chances of a successful outcome.
Eventually, our server appears with our app. Kenzie dives in while Lila demurely declines.
After polishing off the last jalapeno, my sister licks the ranch dressing off her fingertips and grimaces. “Oh no. Not again.”
I scan the bar, searching for what might have caused her sudden shift. When my vision returns, she’s rubbing her forehead, her eyes pinching closed.
Lila shifts closer to my sister, touching her forearm comfortingly. “What’s wrong, Kenz?”
“Another migraine. I can feel it coming on. It’s gonna be a bad one. And I left my meds at home.”
“Okay, we can ask the server to make it to go or just cancel the food if you need to leave right away,” Lila suggests.
“Nah. I don’t want you to have to eat cold food on my account.
” Glancing at me, Kenzie asks, “Reed, would you bring Lila home after y’all are done?
I’ll leave now.” She turns back to Lila without waiting for my response, already grabbing her purse and scooting out of the booth.
“Just have him box up my burger and bring it home for me. I’ll eat it after this passes. ”
An actor my sister is not.
Besides, Lila ordered a salad, as per the norm. And salads are typically served cold.
Checking Kenzie’s reaction to see how she plays this, I ask, “Are you okay to drive? Probably not a good idea to get behind the wheel if you’re having a migraine.”
Which must be a new ailment. She never had those growing up. If she had, no doubt she’d have used it for extra sympathy and attention. Not to say migraines aren’t debilitating, but she’d have absolutely exploited it.
Kenzie rolls her lips into a pout. “It’s fine. I usually have about fifteen minutes before they really get bad. I’ll be home by then.”
“What about the beers?” I ask.
“Not even a little buzzed, Officer Do Right.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you when you get popped for a DUI.”
Drifting from the table, my sister sticks her tongue out at me, which is nicer than the bird finger I was expecting.
Lila keeps her hold on Kenzie’s arm and grits out, “But he’s driving his motorcycle.”
“You’ll survive.” She shrugs free of Lila’s hold. “Reed, you’ll keep her safe, right?”
“Absolutely. And you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Yep. Bye.”
And she’s gone.
Leaving me alone with Lila. Couldn’t have planned it better myself.
The question is . . . why this charade?