Chapter 25 #2
Once I’m close enough to touch, he puts his palms out to stop me from whatever he thinks I’m planning to do.
Little does he know, I don’t have a plan.
I was probably going to tickle him. No doubt that’s what adults do after a funeral and a long day of hosting family members who came to offer condolences.
Continuing with my plan-free plan to make Reed smile, I press my palms against his and shove him infinitesimally. Still no clue what I’m doing, but every random thing I do or say seems to make him happier. That’s all the encouragement I need.
After glancing at our hands, he bends his wrists, curves his fingers over mine, and tugs me toward him. “I’m not in the mood to play patty cake.”
I gasp, then force my mouth to close so I don’t look like a guppy. “Wh-wha-what about a game of slaps?”
Smooth. I’m so smooth. No wonder I’m twenty-six years old and still a virgin.
In a seductive tone I’ve never heard him use, he rasps, “Not interested in playing games, Ms. Kent.”
Incapable of shutting up, I blurt out, “What are you interested in?”
He briefly flicks his gaze to my lips and whispers, “Something sweet.”
“There are cookies left over,” I simper between shallow breaths.
Why is it suddenly hard to breathe? Who’s stealing all the oxygen in here?
The corner of his mouth curves into a diabolically sexy grin. “A cookie sounds delicious. That’s exactly what I’m craving.”
Was that an innuendo, or am I having a stroke? It’s entirely possible, considering all the blood in my body is in my face and clit. None left for the brain or other organs.
He never let go of my hands. His mouth hovers an inch from mine for the longest time, further implying that he wants to kiss me. Or he’s about to kiss me, maybe?
That can’t be right. Can it?
I mean, look at him. He’s . . . well, he’s Reed. Tall, hot, built, successful, well-dressed, intelligent, with chiseled features and dirty dimples. As for me? I’m just . . . a disappointment physically.
The idea of the two of us together is preposterous.
Imagine if I tried to kiss him right now. He’d probably laugh right in my face, pointing at me like the kids in school did that one time I tooted in the lunch line. That’s not how I want to cheer him up. I prefer my old faithful nonsense approach.
Trying to get some space to spare myself from shame, I flex my hands to free them from his tender hold.
Avoiding his eyes, I take a few steps in reverse.
Stopping suddenly, I cut a glare over my shoulder at the chair that wronged me earlier to ensure my escape is obstacle-free.
Looks like I stopped just in time. One more step and I’d have knocked it over.
That would’ve been nearly as embarrassing as if I tilted my head to encourage Reed to claim my lips and he finally stopped whatever prank he’s pulling.
Because it has to be a joke, right?
Reed aggressively spears his fingers through his hair and presses off the counter. Face going lax, he tosses a dish towel at me. “Here. I’ll wash. You dry. Deal?”
“Washing by hand? What decade is this?”
“Dishwasher is broken again.”
I feign an annoyed groan. “Fine. We can be peasants from the Dark Ages.”
His grin returns, making my heart soar.
After my initial nervousness subsides, we chat casually about nothing in particular.
I lose track of time while we clean together, our vibe returning to normal.
I’m curious about what was happening with his mom, but it’s not my place.
I let him guide the conversation to his comfort level.
Whatever he wants to tell me or not is his prerogative.
Kenzie pops into the kitchen while I’m drying the last plate. “Oh, there you are, Lila. I was looking for you.” She saunters over, her gaze dancing between her brother and me. “Figures you’d be helping clean. Should’ve started my search here.”
“Are you ready to leave?” I ask her, wiping my hands on a towel.
As much as I’d love to keep helping Reed—yes, I’ll even happily clean if it means spending time with him—I’ll leave now if she’s ready. I’m here to support her. Not to indulge in my childish fantasies. I was here for Reed when he seemed to need me, and now I can return my focus to Kenzie.
“Uh.” Once more, she scans our faces like she’s weighing her words. Odd. “Mom wants me to sleep here tonight. She’s upset and doesn’t want to be alone.”
Reed scoffs audibly, not bothering to conceal his reaction.
With a hearty roll of her eyes, Kenzie whacks his arm with the back of her hand. “Shut it, asshole.”
Bristling, he throws the sponge into the sudsy sink water, slopping dishwater onto the counter. He casts a side-long glare at Kenzie. “She’s playing you for sympathy. Because that’s what narcissists do.”
Kenzie protests in righteous defense of her mother. “She loved Dad too. We aren’t the only ones who lost him. Don’t be such a selfish prick.”
Oh boy. Once again, I’m wondering where the nearest exit is.
“She hasn’t seen Dad in more than two years.
Even when he begged her to come to the hospital when he knew his days were numbered.
” Reed puts his hands on his hips and responds, carefully keeping his volume in check.
“If she had given two shits about Dad, she wouldn’t have cheated on him and driven him into the bottle in the first place.
He’d still be here with us. She’s the reason he’s dead. You get that, don’t you?”
“You’re a broken record. I’m not doing this shit with you again.”
Reed shakes his head dismissively. “Of course you’d take her side. You’re just like her.”
Kenzie puts her palms out as she backs out of the room. “Whatever, dickhead.”
“Watch out for the attack chair,” I toss, unable to stop myself.
She furrows her brow at me, likely confused by my comment. Totally fair. “Lila, you can head on home. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She turns a sharp sneer at Reed. “I’m staying with my mother.”
Kenzie departs in a huff, taking the drama with her. Or perhaps she left me alone with the drama.
I chance a look at Reed. He’s cast in stone with a click of his jaw as the only visible movement.
This time, I don’t diffuse the tension in my typical fashion. It would cheapen what this family is going through. Sometimes tension is necessary.
A few seconds tick by, with Reed’s fuming breaths as the only sound. Finally, he turns his focus to me. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“Don’t apologize. Family stuff is hard.”
His head slants to the side. “Say shit, Lila.”
“Huh?”
“Family shit. Calling it stuff is too gentle a term. That’s what this fucking family is. A big pile of bullshit.”
Inching forward, I retrieve my towel from the counter. “You know I don’t cuss.”
“Yeah, I remember. The soap.” He returns to his post at the sink. “Too bad the statute of limitations has run out, or I’d have already arrested your uncle for that shit.”
One summer when I was about nine, I stayed at my extremely strict uncle’s house for a few weeks.
A single curse word slip was all it took to set him off.
I was yanked by the arm down the hall into the bathroom, and a bar of soap was shoved violently into my mouth.
And I do mean violently. It chipped a tooth, which I swallowed, and I was certain I was going to die. Never swore again.
“No retribution needed,” I whisper. “He’s dead now.”
“Good.”
A snort-laugh escapes me. I hold no grief for his passing, that’s for sure.
All residual weirdness from the family drama fizzles as we resume dishes. In the silence, my mind wanders. I suspected infidelity was the reason for his parents’ divorce, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure who cheated on whom. The other bomb he dropped was more shocking, though.
Reed blames his mother for his father’s alcoholism returning.
That’s a tough pill to swallow. And clearly, Kenzie disagrees, which probably makes Reed feel alone in that grieving fog.
In time, I hope Reed realizes that his mother’s actions, while unacceptable, were unlikely malicious.
His father was an adult. He made his choices, and he paid the price.
Eventually, the dishes are done, the counters are sparkling, and all the leftovers are put away—including Mrs. Hayes’ legendary cookies. Regrettably.
All evening, it’s been killing me not to devour them. Those things are like crack, though. You can’t have just one. That’s like trying to pee only an ounce when you’ve been chugging water all day. Not gonna happen.
Still, I wonder if I could fit the cookie container into my purse when I leave.
How would anyone know?
“Thanks for your help.” Reed hangs the dish towel on the oven door. “Well, that’s it for me. I’m out of here.”
Disappointment pinches the back of my throat. “Oh? Do you have to work tomorrow or something? I thought you were staying the night.”
And I was planning on showing back up here tomorrow to pick up something conveniently left behind so I could run into him again.
Yes, I’m pathetic like that.
“I’m on bereavement leave for another few days.” He bunches up one side of his face into a cringe. “But I’ve hit my quota of family time.”
I can’t help but feel like I’m included in that group. Did hanging around with me for twenty minutes push him over the edge?
Nah. That’s just my negative self-image talking. Adult Reed has never shown me even a drop of disdain. He might be messing with me, but it’s all in good fun. Between the interaction with his mother and the one that followed with Kenzie, he’s well within his rights to be unwilling to stay here.
But I still want him to. Because I’m ridiculously selfish.
As if my mouth is on a mission to change his mind, I say, “It’s a long drive home from here. Maybe it’d be safer to leave in the morning. You’ve got to be tired.”
What am I doing? He lives near Orlando, which is only about ninety minutes away. Plus, it isn’t all that late, and he hasn’t been drinking. He’s gonna see through my pathetic attempt to spend time with him.