16. Reed
Reed
I grin as Hailey eyes me warily.
She's been avoiding me the past few days.
Even though we live and work in the same space, we've barely crossed paths—probably thanks to my brother's interference, although I guess it could possibly be Hailey's own choice.
Either way, if she's keeping her distance, it's most likely because Dean asked her to and she's trying to follow his rules.
Unfortunately for her, I'm a certified rule-breaker.
If she were staying away because she didn't want me, that'd be one thing—but I know that's not it.
I see it in her gaze every time our eyes lock over dinner.
The heat between us could scorch the damn table.
Sometimes she licks her lips without realizing, or her eyes drop to my fingers—like she's remembering exactly where they were, what they did, how much pleasure they gave her.
She'll bite her lip, and suddenly my brain's flooded with every filthy thought imaginable—right up until she catches herself and looks away.
All of that proves she wants me—but she's not willing to risk whatever deal she's got going with Dean.
So I'm here to offer her a different deal: we hook up behind Dean's back.
I can be discreet. I didn't go near her all day—even though I easily could've—because I didn't want to get her in trouble with him.
Now the sun's gone down and everyone should be in bed.
That means we've got the night to ourselves—and all the fun in the world waiting for us.
If Dean ever finds out, I'll take the heat.
Whatever happens, I'll make damn sure none of it lands on her.
I've got leverage, and I'll use every ounce of it to protect her from any fallout.
I swing my legs down from her bed and take a step or two towards her. Her gaze drops from mine right away, color rising in her cheeks. I stop a few paces back, hands slipping into my pockets, already waiting for the predictable questions—What are you doing here? How did you get in my room?
"What are you doing here?" she asks, right on cue. "I thought I already told you this wasn't a good idea."
"And I told you I didn't agree. So it looks like we're at an impasse."
"But…" She draws in a shaky breath. "Dean…"
"Dean doesn't control what I do. Not in my spare time, anyway."
"I don't want any trouble."
"And there's not going to be any." I take another step toward her, brushing the back of my hand lightly down the side of her neck, right where her pulse is throbbing.
It's not lost on me that she hasn't moved.
The door's wide open behind her. She could walk out, end this, right now.
But she doesn't. She stays. Stuck in place, fighting the need that's pulling at her core.
"Tell me you don't want me," I murmur, stepping in close enough to catch the glint in her eyes—the moonlight reflected deep in their dark depths. "Tell me you don't want me, and I swear I'll walk out that door and leave you alone. But you've got to say it."
"It's not that simple."
"It is, actually. I've never forced a woman, never even had to coax one—and I'm not starting now. Just say the word. Tell me you don't want me, and I'm out of here. We go back to being friends."
She shuts her eyes, her expression tightening with torment. She shakes her head. "Dean?—"
"This isn't about Dean." My voice sharpens with a flicker of annoyance. "Screw him. This has nothing to do with him. This is about me and you."
She doesn't answer, and that silence lets a question slip into my mind.
"Unless… you want him too."
Her eyes fly open, wide with shock. They drop just as fast—but not before I catch the flicker of guilt in them. It hits like a sucker punch to the gut.
She does want him. Of course she does... that's what this is really about. That's why she acts half like she does want me and the other half like she doesn't want me.
I take a step back, trying to see the situation clearly—to figure out exactly what I'm feeling.
It's not betrayal, not exactly. Actually, thinking about it, not at all.
Not jealousy either. But yeah, I'm pissed.
Dean made such a big deal about me keeping my distance, yet he's over here making dinner with her like it's a damn date.
I've walked in on them more than once, smiling and talking like they've known each other for years.
I figured he had a bit of a thing for her, but I brushed it off.
Now though, I'm annoyed. Dean's a damned hypocrite. He doesn't want me near her—not to protect her like he's been pretending all this time, but because he wants her for himself. And that's fine. I don't mind a little competition. But the bastard isn't playing fair.
Ultimately, it's her call. I can't be too mad about it. If she wants Dean more than she wants me, well… there's nothing I can do about that.
"Is it him?" I ask quietly, needing to hear it. "You don't want to be with me because you want him?"
She shakes her head—but it's weak, uncertain. No words come out. Her gaze bounces everywhere but me. Then finally, she sighs. Still silent. But that's all the answer I need.
"Right." I force a smile, even as bitterness swells in my chest. "Well… I guess that makes sense."
"Reed, I?—"
"No, it's cool." I hold up a hand to stop her.
Disappointed? Yeah. But I'm not mad at her. She has every right to choose who she wants, and just because she didn't choose me doesn't mean I get to sulk like a child. If she wants Dean, then fine—I'll be happy for them.
Eventually.
Sure, it fucking sucks, and yeah, I'm drowning in envy. But I'll get over it. Might take a few weeks.
Hell, maybe by next month I'll even be rooting for them. Perhaps Dean will get his act together, settle down, and they'll build a happy family, push out a couple of kids. Maybe then the ache in my chest will finally stop bouncing off my damn ribs.
God, how pathetic. I don't even know why I'm so upset. It's not like I wanted to marry her or anything ridiculous like that. It was a fling, two people having fun. I'm being a sore loser.
So why does it hurt so much?
The silence between us stretches awkwardly. I shrug. "I suppose this is where I make a graceful exit."
I flash her a grin—playful on the surface, but her sorrowful gaze twists the knife deeper.
"Oh, and I forgot to mention—I ran into the guy you called about fixing the shingles on your roof. He gave me the quote. I think it's dogshit. I could do it for half that, easy."
"You can?"
"Yup. I could start tomorrow." It'll give me something to focus on. A distraction.
"Thank you," she says softly, regret shimmering in her eyes. I guess she feels bad for hurting me—but I want to show her it's okay. So I pat her on the shoulder.
Bad move. That makes it more awkward—and messes me up even worse.
I need to get out of here.
"Sweet dreams, darling," I murmur, gently shifting her aside so I can reach the door. I can't resist—I press a kiss to her hair before I leave. Her scent clings to me the whole way back.
By the time I reach my room, I'm buzzing with restless energy. I want to punch something. Scream. Anything.
Yeah, I know—overreaction. But I've never been good at bottling things up. I need a release. A fight. A fuck. Something.
I jump in the shower, throw on clothes, and grab my truck keys from the hook.
On my way out, I spot Lennon on the veranda, drink in hand, staring up at the moon.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"No clue," I mutter, brushing past him.
I stride across the yard, wind in my face—but it does nothing to calm me. I slide into the truck and floor it, hitting sixty before I even leave the property.
I head down the winding mountain road, aiming straight for Mattie's bar—hoping I'll find some girl there who doesn't have a boyfriend and is looking for a good time. Maybe we'll hook up in the bathroom. I'll pretend she's Hailey, and she can pretend I'm whoever the hell she needs me to be.
Maybe we'll fuck until Hailey is out of my system and I can finally act like a normal human being around her—not some moody asshole with a bruised ego.
Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I this worked up over someone I only just met? Why can't I shake her image out of my mind?
I don't have a good answer for any of it.
The place's packed—bodies grinding on the dance floor, drunken laughter rising over blaring country music, and alcohol-glazed eyes glancing at me with the usual mixture of curiosity and judgment. The air reeks of booze and sweat, but I don't mind. I ignore it all and head for the bar.
"Hey, Mattie," I say, gesturing to the grizzled bartender. "The usual."
He gives a short nod and hands me a beer.
Most folks in Cedar Falls don't like us mountain boys. Can't say I blame them entirely—we caused our share of trouble when we first rolled into town. But it's more than that. They don't like any outsiders. Even now, after all these years, Dean, Lennon, and I are still exactly that. Outsiders.
Not that we've made much effort to change that. We keep to ourselves, focus on the business. They've done the same—except they've made sure to spread their own version of who we are and what we do up on that mountain. Bunch of judgmental assholes.
Luckily, Mattie isn't like that. He doesn't care who walks into the bar, as long as they have money for their drinks.
I nurse my beer and scan the bar. A curvy, dark-haired woman sitting alone catches my eye—she's been throwing me fuck-me eyes since I walked in. I give her a polite smile, but there's nothing behind it. No spark.
Next, I clock a leggy blonde dancing near the speakers.
She's gorgeous, but again… nothing. I sigh.
Shit. I don't want any of them. And that's a damn problem—because I should.
I've never been picky. One pretty woman's always been as good as the next.
So why the hell is my body only reacting to one? Why the fuck does it only want Hailey?
She doesn't want you. She wants Dean. Time to move on.
I'm trying. I really am. But sex isn't going to fix it tonight—not when I can't even fake the interest. I down the rest of my beer, get to my feet, and toss some cash on the table.
As I'm about to leave, someone taps me on the shoulder.
I glance down to find a girl standing behind me—she can't be more than eighteen… if she even is eighteen. She flashes me a coy little smile.
"Hey," she says. "I hear you're the guy to talk to if a girl's looking for a good time."
I shake my head. "Not today."
"You sure about that?"
"Yup. And sweetheart, you're way too young to be hitting on an old fart like me."
She pouts and steps closer, pushing her luck. I take a step back, thrown off. What the hell?
"Are you sure?" she presses, biting her lip in some practiced, wannabe-sultry move. "I want you."
"I'm sure," I say flatly. Her expression drops—and just like that, her eyes flash with irritation.
I decide it's time to get the hell out of here before this turns into an ugly scene.
Unfortunately, I'm too late.
I'm almost at my truck when a loud, angry voice cuts through the night.
"Hey, bud. Were you talking to our sister?"
I turn to see three burly guys stalking toward me, each one radiating pissed-off big brother energy.
"What the fuck did you say to her, asshole?" the one in front growls—he looks like the oldest. "She's upset. Were you hitting on her, pervert?"
"The opposite. I turned her down, actually."
"That's not what she says," the one beside him snaps.
"Yeah, well, since you weren't there, how the fuck would you know?"
His eyes light up with fury. "You calling my sister a liar? Someone needs to teach your kind a lesson."
My kind?
If I can't burn off this energy with sex, I guess I'll do it the old-fashioned way. I unholster my gun, empty the chamber, and toss it onto the passenger seat of my truck. No misunderstandings. No excuses.
"You sure you want this? Because once we get started, I ain't stopping until I'm done."