Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
R eed carried the last of Ava’s few boxes and suitcases into his house, setting them in the spare bedroom. She followed, her gaze sweeping the space as she took it all in. He turned just in time to catch her staring, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Not what you expected?” His voice held a knowing amusement.
“Not even close.”
She honestly hadn’t known what to expect from Reed’s house—maybe something bachelor-basic, all function, and no personality. But this? A charming rustic cottage with warm wood-paneled walls, exposed beams, and a stone fireplace that felt straight out of a mountain retreat. The furniture was masculine but inviting, well-worn leather and sturdy wood that spoke of comfort rather than decoration. Nothing overly cutesy—thank God—but small, thoughtful touches softened the space. A simple wreath on the cream-colored wall. A vintage train depot sign. The quilt draped over the bed, a riot of mismatched patchwork, clearly handmade with care.
It smelled amazing too—something rich and savory, the kind of meal that warmed a person from the inside out. Her stomach rumbled in response, but she refused to comment.
Reed leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, watching her, arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s charming,” she admitted, and his smirk turned into a full, boyish grin.
“Bought it on foreclosure,” he said, running a hand along the doorframe. “My dad thought I was crazy until we did the walkthrough. He and I put in the work ourselves. My mom handled the finishing touches—curtains, little things. She picked up this quilt at the church bazaar.”
His fingers brushed the fabric, and Ava found herself mesmerized by the way his hands moved—strong, capable, calloused from years of climbing and working with his hands. The flickering overhead light cast shadows over his forearms, highlighting the sinew and strength there.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, swallowing hard. “So much work. I almost hate to use it.”
“Mom says things like this are made to be used. We insult the giver by keeping them locked away.” His gaze flicked to hers, something unreadable in his expression. “No one’s ever slept in this bed since I got it.”
Her pulse stuttered at the implication. That bed. Right there. An undeniable presence in the too-small room. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about it—how could she not? Living with Reed meant constant reminders of the night they’d made this mess, and worse, how good it had felt.
She turned abruptly and unzipped her suitcase, needing something to focus on that wasn’t him or that bed.
Reed exhaled, shifting his stance. “When should we get the rest of your things? Not sure I have room for all your furniture, but my basement’s dry. We could store it there or get a unit.”
The question made her chest tighten. The room, already small, suddenly felt suffocating. It wasn’t just her things moving in—it was her life, meshing with his. Their marriage, however accidental, becoming something real in ways she wasn’t ready to confront.
“I have more packing to do,” she said lightly, forcing calm into her voice. “This is just what I needed for now. My lease doesn’t run out for another year, so we have time.”
Reed frowned, his dark brows knitting together. “A year? You can break it or sublet it, right?”
She avoided his eyes, refolding a shirt just for something to do. “I’ll put up a sign at the hospital. Someone’s probably looking.”
He reached out and laid a warm, firm hand on her forearm. The touch jolted her, heat seeping through the sleeve of her shirt, grounding her and unbalancing her all at once.
“You are moving in here, right?” His voice was softer now, coaxing.
She laughed, the sound brittle. “Of course. We’re married. We have to live together.”
His fingers curled slightly, just enough to keep her from turning away. “No, Ava. We need to live together.” His voice dipped, the quiet intensity of it sending a shiver down her spine. “Right now, people believe us because it’s new. But that won’t last. If we live separate lives, if we act like strangers, they’ll see through us.”
She sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress giving under her weight, and folded her hands in her lap. “Why does it matter? The only person who really knows me outside of work is Rachel.”
Reed sighed and tipped his head back, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Come on,” he said finally. “Let’s talk over food. My mom sent lasagna.”
Her stomach rumbled again—louder this time. She winced, and he smirked.
“I wondered what that smell was,” she admitted. “Didn’t want to ask.”
“Did you think I’d eat and not feed my own wife?” He arched a brow, teasing.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been married before.”
They moved into the kitchen, a cozy space with worn butcher-block counters and a small dining nook. Reed dished out generous portions, the scent of garlic and spices making her mouth water.
He set a plate in front of her, and when she took her first bite, a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips. “Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth, eyes wide. “Your mother is a goddess. This is unreal.”
Reed’s lips parted slightly, his gaze dropping to her mouth. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“She sends food all the time,” he said after a beat, voice slightly rougher than before. “You should see my freezer. We won’t starve.”
“Thank God for your mother. I’m not the best in the kitchen.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. But we’re married. We eat together if we can. My mom always stressed that a family sits down to eat together at least one meal. She made sure, no matter what time it was, we sat at the dinner table and talked about our day. That was important to her. And my father had to make time to be home.”
Ava considered his words. “I often work past my shift. I can’t just clock out on patients.”
“Neither can I,” Reed said. “But we do what we can. We need to get comfortable with each other in private, so when we’re in public, we look like a married couple. Rachel and Kyle look like two halves of a coin. We act like strangers. Like today in the break room.”
Ava wrinkled her nose. “Rachel pulled me aside after that. She said I looked like I wanted to pull away from you.”
Reed nodded. “You did. And people will pick up on that. Ciponelli will see that. I know you think he’s being misogynistic in what he said about the position in the ED, but I know him. I taught both his kids, his son and daughter, how to rock climb. His daughter is better than his son and she often climbs more often with the doc than his son. He doesn’t hold her back. But he cares about the people of Elizabethtown and the surrounding towns so much. He doesn’t want to fail them. Every loss he carries like a weight. He wants to put the best staff forward and if he is going to invest in someone, he wants to be sure they care as much and will stay.”
Ava grimaced. “Salvini doesn’t care about the patients. His patient care quality score is much lower than mine.”
Reed shrugged. “But he’s great with trauma cases. He makes a decision and sticks with it. A trauma case doesn’t care if you’re nice. They care if you save their life. He’s confident.”
“He’s arrogant,” she muttered.
Reed grinned. “Overconfident, maybe. But Ciponelli sees someone who can save lives in a trauma situation. That’s a mark in his favor.”
She took another bite, conscious now of how his eyes tracked her movements. His focus made her skin heat in a way that had nothing to do with the warm lasagna. After a few minutes, she spoke. “Salvini has no intention of staying in a small-town hospital. The reasons Dr. Ciponelli gave me for not hiring me apply more to Joe than me.”
“Salvini wants glory and wants more trauma cases than we get. And his wife wants to be the queen bee somewhere much larger than our little dot on the map. He’ll use Elizabethtown as a stepping stone. I think Ciponelli knows this and hopes if Salvini’s wife gets pregnant, she’ll decide to stay.”
Ava choked. “Hannah has no intention of getting pregnant. It would ruin her body.”
Reed laughed. “Yeah, she might hire someone to carry the baby for her. Either way, you have an edge now. But you still have to sell it. The wedding was not enough.”
After a few quiet moments, she set her fork down. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
Reed leaned in slightly, his forearms braced on the table, closing the space between them. His voice was low, threaded with something deeper than simple practicality.
“That we make this real.”
Her breath caught. “You mean…”
“I mean, we need to start acting like a married couple.” His gaze darkened, something unreadable there. “Not just in public, but here. In private. Otherwise, people will notice.”
Her fingers tightened around her fork, her heart hammering in her chest. She should push back. Tell him this wasn’t necessary. But something about the way he was looking at her, the way the air had thickened between them, made the words stick in her throat.
Because maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t only talking about keeping up appearances. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely against it.
R eed knew he had to tread carefully.
Ava was stubborn as hell. He’d known that since she was a kid, trailing after Noah, and determined to prove she could keep up. But this was different. She wasn’t just resisting the reality of their marriage; she was refusing to see what was right in front of her. A life. A future. Them.
He knew exactly how she thought this was going to play out. She would move into his house like a ghost, drifting through on opposite shifts, exchanging nods and the occasional obligatory smile when necessary. They’d trot out their couple act when needed, enough to sell it to everyone watching, and then, when she secured the ED position, she’d quietly slip away. The paperwork would be filed, and life would return to normal—except it wouldn’t.
Reed didn’t do things halfway, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her treat this marriage like a temporary inconvenience.
Ava needed to be shaken out of this rut. She needed to feel what she’d been missing—not just a relationship, but real companionship. A partner. A home. Not to mention, their one night together had been fireworks, the kind of chemistry that made him wonder why they hadn’t ended up in bed together sooner. But it wasn’t just about sex, no matter how much he wanted her again. It was about the way she buried herself in work, the way she carried everything on her own shoulders like she’d never learned how to lean on someone.
He could change that. If she let him.
“How many guys have you dated?”
The question left his mouth before he fully thought it through, but once it was out there, he didn’t regret it.
Ava frowned, her fork halfway to her mouth, and gave him a look like he’d just asked her if she believed in aliens. “Excuse me?”
“I’m curious.” He leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. “How many boyfriends have you had?”
Her expression tightened. “Why does that matter?”
Because I don’t think there’s been anyone except me, he wanted to say. Because she’d shut herself off from anything real, anything deep, and he was done watching her keep everyone at arm’s length.
Instead, he let a slow, deliberate smile curve his lips. “I think we should date.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. Then—laughter. Actual laughter. And not the cute kind. The kind that lasted a little too long, edged with disbelief and borderline hysteria.
“You’re kidding.” She set her fork down, her expression turning incredulous. “We’re married. Why would we date? Wouldn’t that look weird?”
He shrugged, pretending nonchalance even as he was already shifting the pieces into place. “Not really. We told everyone we had to date in secret before we eloped. Now, we make them believe it wasn’t a mistake.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make her breath hitch. “Now, we show them that it’s real.”
Ava’s gaze flickered, wary, defensive. “But we’re not staying together.”
Yet.
Reed bit back a scowl. She was already planning her exit, barely a week into this thing, and it set his teeth on edge. Women wanted to date him. He’d had to sidestep more than a few elaborate schemes over the years, and yet, the one woman he actually wanted couldn’t wait to get away.
He stretched out a hand and took hers before she could tuck it into her lap. The contrast of their skin, his rough palm against her soft one, sent a jolt of heat through him. Her breath hitched, and she shuddered, trying to tug free. He didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he let his thumb brush lightly along the delicate skin of her inner wrist, feeling the frantic pulse there.
The way her lips parted, the way she sucked in a sharp breath. Damn, he could work with that.
Finally, he released her, smirking when she practically snatched her hand back like she’d been burned.
“That’s why,” he murmured.
She blinked. “What?”
“You act like I have some contagious disease. A married couple has PDA, Ava. Touching. Kissing. Acting like we actually want to be in the same room together.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “I’ll have you know I’m clean. I’ve been tested.”
Her jaw clenched. “That’s not what this is about.”
“No?” His gaze dropped deliberately to her mouth, remembering the way she’d kissed him back in Vegas, the way she’d melted for him. “Then what is it about?”
Ava swallowed hard and dropped her gaze, folding her hands tightly in her lap. “I’m just not used to spending time with anyone.”
His stomach twisted—because that? That was the damn truth.
“I’m not anyone,” he said quietly. “I’m your husband. The man you supposedly love. The man you fuck every chance you get.”
She flinched, her sharp intake of breath giving her away.
“That’s not happening again,” she snapped, though her voice wavered. “We can’t afford to get in any deeper.”
He held back a smirk; because if she had to tell herself that, then she already knew how dangerous this was.
He shrugged, a lazy roll of his shoulders, even though her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. “Your choice.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But you can’t sleep with anyone else either.”
His brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
“I won’t have you cheating on me.”
Reed tilted his head, amusement flickering in his gaze. “So let me get this straight. You don’t want to sleep with me, but you don’t want me sleeping with anyone else either?”
She lifted her chin, unflinching. “That’s right.”
God, she was infuriating. And sexy as hell when she got all riled up.
“If you don’t want to be my wife,” he murmured, “then what’s in this for me?”
Ava exhaled slowly, watching him carefully, as if she knew she was stepping into dangerous territory. “Fine. What do you want?”
He wanted a hell of a lot more than what he was about to ask for. But he was playing the long game here.
“Dinner together when we can,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “Here. At home. Weekly dates. We do things together, outside of work. No hiding in your room.” He leaned in slightly, voice low. “And we meet my parents, which means more than one dinner. And we deal with your brother.”
Her face drained of color. “Oh, my God. My brother.”
Reed pressed two fingers to the faint bruise on his jaw, feeling a spark of satisfaction when her eyes widened. “Oh, didn’t I mention?” He smirked. “I spoke with your brother yesterday.”
Ava groaned and dropped her head to the table.
Reed let himself grin, just a little.
She might think this was temporary. She might think she could keep him at arm’s length.
But he knew better.
And by the time he was done with her, she would too.