9. Nova
Okay, I concede, the third floor really does need some work.
Some of the floorboards need replaced. The wallpaper looks like it stumbled right out of the sixties with little ships that have definitely seen a lot of people hook up in these rooms. Cobwebs hang in every corner and I’m sure there is a new species of tarantula up here that hasn’t been discovered yet.
I regret coming up here by myself. The inn is haunted—I already know that—but the third floor? It may as well be purgatory. I swear someone’s been watching me since I set foot in the first room, working to slowly pile a stack of old lumber, complete with century-old nails, into a neat pile so I can feel like I’ve accomplished something.
Reid’s right. Don’t tell him I said that.
I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.
Still, I try, imagining all the things I could do with the space. I could add a library. Add more rooms. I could even put a toy room in for the kids that come and can’t go out on rainy days. There’s so much wasted space that could easily turn this place into a little paradise.
I just have to learn how the hell you fix plumbing. And damaged floorboards. And get a new roof.
Okay, the list keeps going, but you get the drift.
I start with the wood pile because once it’s out of the way, it’ll give me free reign to make this the supply room. At least, that’s what I’m hoping for. I have no idea how much this will cost, but I do have the internet and a really hard head, so I may be able to figure it out.
I hope.
Halfway through my wood stacking, a scent so egregious hits me in the face that I actually cough.
I know that cologne.
And I don’t like it.
“What are you doing here, Higgins?” I drop the piece of wood I’m holding and turn to face him where he’s eyeing me from the door. He’s dressed up in another fancy suit, looking at me with a nasty glint in his eye. “I’m not selling.”
“I just came to check in. Relax.”
The audacity . . .
“Well, I’m fine.” I know he’s not here to check on me. He’s here to whittle me down so they can turn the inn, and subsequently all of Port Nova, a little getaway for the rich. “You shouldn’t be up here. This is for employees only.”
“Well, Beth let me up. I figured we’d get more privacy up here.”
Privacy is exactly what I don’t want where Higgins is concerned.
He looks around, his beady little eyeballs surveying the room around us. “Things are looking mighty rough up here. You got some water damage in the corner. Going to cost a fortune to fix.”
“I will handle it.”
“You know,” he says, setting his shiny leather briefcase down on the ground. “I think we got off on the wrong foot and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come at you so strong before.”
“No. I still won’t sell, though.”
He chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. Honestly, with that grin and the body hiding underneath his suit, he could be hot. It’s everything else that makes him unattractive. Like that smirk when he steps closer to me.
Too close.
“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner? My treat. We can just talk. Get to know each other.”
“No, thank you,” I respond, hoping my voice is as cold as it sounds. “I already ate.”
“You sure? I’m sure we can find something in this little town. It’s only four.”
Shit.
“I have things to do.”
“But you work so hard.” Higgins takes a step forward. I take a step back. He takes another step forward. My ass hits the wall and I’m effectively stuck with him shielding the only exit I have.
Double Shit.
He backs me into the old, yellowed wallpaper, his body a mere foot away from mine. His scent . . . it’s all wrong. Like expensive, businessman cologne and not the rough smell of the sea that’s come to make my mouth water. Slowly, he reaches up, tugging one of my curls and watching it spring back into place.
“Come on, Nova. What would it hurt?”
My stomach recoils at the thought of letting this man touch me, but with the way he’s cornered me, I’m not sure there’s a choice in the matter. Especially not when his fingers slide down my arm, leaving me acutely aware of just how much sweat has gathered on his palm.
“I said no. You need to leave.”
“And—”
“She said leave.”
Both Higgins and I pause, turning toward the door in slow motion. Reid stands there, eyes so dark they’re almost black.
Murderous.
A shiver rolls through me at that look. I think if that look was aimed at me, I would wilt like the weakest flower on a rainless summer day.
Higgins straightens, stepping back from me and I finally let out a breath. My heartbeat races in my ears and I slink away from him, pressing myself to the wall on the opposite side of the room.
“It’s a public island. She can’t force me off of it.”
What a stupid, stupid thing to say.
Reid takes a step forward, almost like a predator, hungry for his next meal.
“No, but I can.”
Part of me wants to cheer from just how freaking hot that was. The other part is bubbling with so much adrenaline and anxiety that my hands start to shake.
“Do I need to say it again?” Reid’s voice is calm. Like the ocean before a hurricane. I would be willing to bet he’s just as deadly.
Higgins goes quiet, as if he’s finally got it through his dense skull that Reid might not be the best person to mess with. Slowly, as if he’s afraid Reid will pounce on him, he grabs his briefcase and moves for the door. Reid steps only a foot out of his way, giving him just enough room to slide past and I am reveling in the fact that Higgins is at least a foot shorter than him.
Serves you right, you bitch.
Both Reid and I watch Higgins go and I listen to the sound of his footsteps retreat down the stairs with a final sigh of relief.
Thank God that’s over.
Now, there’s only two problems to deal with. My overactive libido—
—and the man who causes it to go haywire.
Currently, he’s staring at me as if he can read every thought I have, just bouncing around my brain. From the looks of it, he’s not happy.
“Why didn’t you call for me. I was right downstairs. I would have heard.”
“I didn’t need help,” I snap, my temper flaring as embarrassment shows it’s ugly face. I stalk away from him, grabbing another board, and placing it in the pile.
Honestly, why are there so many nails?
“Sure looked like you did,” Reid grits, eyes cold as he watches me angrily stalk the room. “What are you doing?”
“I’m remodeling,” I snap, throwing my hands in the air. Really, I’m just trying to keep my hands busy because they’re shaking. My breath feels like it’s caught in my throat and I’m on the verge of a breakdown.
And all because of one asshole from Portland.
And for once, it’s not the one standing in front of me.
“I don’t need a babysitter. I’m a big girl, and one who’s sick and tired of everyone thinking I can’t handle this inn.”
“So this is you handling it?”
Something in me snaps and for the first time in my life, I don’t shove my anger back.
I grab a board, shoving it on the pile; only to my disappointment, a loose nail on another board stabs into the back of my skin, cutting me open.
The metal slices through my palm and there’s a brief moment where I don’t feel a single thing except for my skin separating.
Then it starts gushing blood.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, holding my hand over the wound. Unfortunately, it’s bleeding too much for it to really do anything.
Way to go, Nova. Just had to make yourself look even more incompetent after you just ran your mouth about being a big girl.
Reid steps further into the room, reaching for my hand.
“Let me see.”
I jerk my hand back from him like a child because well . . . I refuse to admit defeat.
Reid fixes me with a bored stare, and takes it anyway, peeling my fingers away to see the blood. Unfortunately, for me, tears well in my eyes because it actually really does hurt, even if I don’t want to admit that to him.
He takes a towel, wiping away the blood to inspect the slice in my hand as if he does this every day. Hell, with him, he probably does. The man’s not saint and I’d be willing to bet there’s more than a few dark secrets in Reid’s past he’d rather never tell a soul.
Kind of like mine.
“Tears?” he remarks, a sudden bite in his voice that wasn’t there before. “Come on, you’re better than that.”
“I’m not crying,” I murmur, trying to force them back. They don’t listen and one slips down my cheek. Reid watches its path indifferently before it falls to my shirt, staining the gray cotton.
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Nova—”
“If you go out there, everyone’s going to come in here and remind me why I should just ask you for help.”
I don’t know why I admit that to him, but as soon as I do, I feel like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulder.
“I’ll just get a bandage.”
“You need stitches. You’re going to have a scar.”
“I already have plenty of those,” I argue.
I wipe another traitorous tear with the back of my hand as it slides down my cheek and Reid shakes his head disapprovingly.
“You know, if you’re just going to bitch at me for crying when something hurts, you can leave. I’ll do it on my own.”
“Yeah?” he counters, following me to the bathroom when I step inside to wash the blood away. The sinks on the third floor are terrible and only a small stream of water comes out, but I use it anyway, tetanus from rusty pipes and all. Who said I’m not tough? “How so?”
“I’ll manage,” I snap, scrubbing at the still very bloody cut on my hand. The water doesn’t stop the bright red from staining my fingers anymore than I can stop the hum in my body when Reid’s around.
“Nova.” He’s much closer now and I jump when I chance a peek at the mirror and find him right behind me, watching me over the top of my head. “Let me see,” he murmurs, voice softer this time than I’ve ever heard it.
Something in me melts . . . not a lot, but enough for my stomach to flip and my heart to do this weird little flutter.
He’s never looked at me like this before. In fact, no one has.
Like he’s looking at me and really seeing me. No, seeing through me to the scared and damaged girl inside.
And that’s fucking terrifying.
He moves slowly, as if he thinks I’m going to run from him again, and takes my hand, pressing a light finger over the cut. I wince, but I don’t move. He’s never been this gentle with me before. Not even when he kissed me against the side of my cottage.
“Stay here. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
“No, Reid, they’re—” I protest, but he cuts me off with a finger to my lips. I’m so taken aback by the sudden touch, I actually shut up.
“Stay here.”
He takes the bloody towel, replacing it with a new one, and he’s gone before I can argue again. I sit on the dirty floor, cradling my hand in a towel that is probably covered in years of dust and who knows what else and try not to think about the sudden change in his demeanor toward me until he finally returns.
His footsteps echo along the halls before he reenters the bathroom, first aid kit in hand, and tosses the towel in the sink. I expect him to tell me to get up and move to the bed, but instead, he drops down with his back to the tub and opens the kit.
Listen, our kit isn’t great, but it does have surgical thread and needles, as well as bandages. I had hoped he would just get the bandages, but of course, he goes for the needle and thread as if he’s Nurse Ratched and I’m his unfortunate next victim.
Sliding a pair of gloves on that are way too small for his hands, he widens his stance, spreading his legs across from me like he’s the star in the raunchiest porno.
Then he gestures for me to sit between them.
“What?”
“Get over here.”
“You are not giving me stitches.”
He fixes me with a bored stare. One that tells me I’m not going to have much of a choice.
“Do I have to say it again, little bird?”
There’s that name, again. Little bird. As if he’s a cat, waiting to catch me when I’m not expecting it. Planning to swallow me whole before I can fly out of his grasp.
My mind tells me not to listen to him. He’s not my father and he for damn sure doesn’t get to boss me around. His eyes tell me that I’d better do what he tells me or there will be hell to pay.
And that gets me wondering what kind of punishment this man would hand out and my body tightens with need, despite everything.
God, am I becoming a sex-addict after one orgasm?
With less grace than a baby giraffe on new legs, I slip across the bathroom with one hand and pause in front of him. His eyes follow me, dark and looming, as if he can read my dirty thoughts and he doesn’t approve.
He motions for me to turn around, so I do because, honestly, it’s a welcome reprieve from looking at that stare. Silently, he pulls me to him until my back is nestled to his front and he can peer over my shoulder.
“This doesn’t feel like stitches,” I mumble, voice breathier than usual. If I wanted to be coy about his effect on me, it’s completely lost in this moment. Reid adjusts and when he does, I can feel his erection poking at my ass, as if it’s reminding me of how good it felt the last time his hands were on me.
“Give me your hand.” I’m pleased to hear his voice is just as thick as mine, as if the air in the room is dissipating now that we’re both on the same page.
He wants me just as bad as I want him, even if we shouldn’t.
Even if I can’t let it happen.
I place my hand in his and he turns it over, using the small bottle of peroxide to clean the cut without another word. I watch as he readies the needle over my shoulder, our height difference giving him the perfect view of the back of my hand.
This is definitely not conventional, though, right now, I’m not sure I’d want to get stitches any other way.
“Don’t watch,” he murmurs, but I can’t look away as he slides the needle through the torn and bleeding skin, piercing it as if he’s done this a million times.
Neither of us says a word and no one moves while he fixes me, stitch by stitch, until you can’t tell an actual nurse didn’t do it.
“Ask me how I got the first aid kit,” Reid says quietly from behind me as he’s finishing the last few stitches.
I swallow down past the lump in my throat and will my heart to stop hammering in my ears.
“How did you get the first aid kit.”
“I took it,” he murmurs darkly, as if it’s the answer to anything. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t explain. I took it.”
“You can’t just take everything in life, Reid.” I know where he’s going with this. He’s trying to tell me to stand up for myself, but I don’t need coaching. Not from him.
No, right now, all I need is for him to stop touching me so we can go back to hating each other.
“No one has the power to make you do anything you don’t want to do, little bird. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. You don’t have to apologize. That’s the beauty of being an adult.”
He finishes the stitch and wipes the area clean, again. Four stitches later and my hand has stopped bleeding. I look like I went to the clinic in town.
“You don’t apologize?”
He pulls out a bandage, carefully peeling it open and covering my cut.
“If it’s warranted, but never for doing what needs to be done.”
When he’s done placing the bandage over my hand, I know it’s time to get up, but something keeps me there. Maybe it’s the way he places the remnants of everything in the trash and then lets his fingers trail down my bare arm, as if he’s doing it subconsciously. Maybe it’s the way his other hand comes up to grip the small of my waist.
Either way, neither of us makes any attempt to move.
“Nova,” he says quietly and my spine stiffens.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask, so quiet, I’m not even sure I said it. I definitely didn’t mean to, that’s for sure.
His finger trails back up my arm, then higher to my shoulder blade and a shiver runs through me.
“Maybe you give me no choice.”
What does that even mean?
“You hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t like me,” I correct. His hand on my shoulder slips forward to wrap around my neck. Slowly, he tugs my head back to rest on his shoulder and forces my eyes to his.
I can taste the mint on his breath and my mouth waters.
I want his taste. Again.
His eyes search mine for a moment, the normal chocolate pools almost completely black as he looks at me. It’s terrifying, but I can’t move. Almost like he’s got me in a trance. I certainly feel that way.
“And if I just wanted to scare you off?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Not everyone is clean, Nova. Some of us are monsters. We won’t write you shitty little love songs.” He reaches up with his free hand, brushing a curl out of my face before he rests that hand on my stomach. Dangerously low on my stomach. My body tightens, the heat from his fingers traveling straight to my core and making me wet. “We take. Especially sweet and innocent things.”
I swallow my next breath when his thumb lightly traces the button on my shorts.
“And who said I’m innocent?”
He pauses for a moment, his lips inches from mine. My breath catches in my throat and I don’t move. I don’t even think when he closes the distance between us, solidifying everything I’ve been thinking the last week when we were avoiding each other.
He wants me. Even if he hates himself for it.
His first kiss is like a feather, soft and sweet, but it’s not what I want. His next kiss, though . . . it’s demanding, owning me completely with a single touch and searing me with heat.
He groans when I kiss him back, his tongue slipping against mine in the most sexually charged kiss I’ve ever experienced.
Kissing Reid feels like the end of everything I’ve ever known. Like up until this very moment, I’ve been surviving, barely keeping my head above water, and his kiss is what drags me back to shore.
“Nova!” someone calls and Reid releases me, dragging his teeth over my bottom lip as I spring away from him, landing flat on my ass on the floor just as Katelyn steps into the room. “Why are you on the floor?”
Then, she notices the bloody rag in the sink.
“Nova Leigh, what the hell did you do?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. See, this is why I told you, you shouldn’t be up here messing with stuff. You need someone to do it who knows what they’re doing.”
“She does,” Reid bites, before I can say anything. He stands and Katelyn takes a step back as if he’d actually hurt her. He holds a hand out to me and carefully, I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. “She’s learning. She doesn’t need scolding.”
Katelyn falters for a moment, looking back and forth between the two of us. I should yell at him for being rude to Katelyn, but honestly, hearing him stick up for me is kind of . . . hot.
Something in my chest stirs, but I force it back down before it can gain any merit.
“Well, when did you two get to be two peas in a pod?”
“We’re not,” I interject, but Reid cuts me off.
“I’ll finish up tonight. Go.”
I swallow, hoping Katelyn won’t see the heat in my cheeks as Reid turns away from us.
Whatever just happened is gone and that cold mask of indifference has slipped back into place.
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
“Come on, Katelyn,” I murmur, rejection burning in my core. “I’ve got things to do.”
I let her lead me out of the room, but I don’t miss the dark look in Reid’s eyes before I go, as if he’s reminding me, he’s a monster—
—And I’m nothing but a sweet and innocent victim, just asking to be taken.