Chapter 9
Nine
Reggie
It takes me exactly three days to realize Blayne is avoiding me.
The first day, I tell myself he’s busy with work. Construction schedules can be crazy; I know from experience with my dad. I’m thinking maybe he just got tied up on sites. I tell myself that his not responding to my text about finalizing details for the dance could mean anything.
The second day, when I see his truck parked outside Rosie’s Diner but he doesn’t wave back when I drive past, I start to suspect something’s up.
By the third day, when he sends one of his guys to drop off some paperwork at my parents’ house instead of coming himself like he always does, I know for sure.
Blayne Madison is avoiding me.
The realization stings more than it should. We kissed. It was a great kiss, a freaking amazing one to be completely honest, maybe the best of my li… anyway, then we were interrupted. That’s it. That’s the extent of what happened between us. So why is he acting like I threw my coochie at him?
Maybe that’s exactly what he thinks I was doing. Maybe he thinks I’m some desperate divorcée who’s looking for the first available man to latch on to. Maybe he regrets the whole thing and wishes it never happened.
The thought makes my stomach twist with embarrassment and something that feels dangerously close to hurt.
By Thursday, I’m alternating between anger and mortification. By Friday, I’m just plain pissed off.
Saturday drags by with no word from him, despite the fact that the father-daughter dance is next week and we still need to finalize things. I spend the day stress-cleaning my house and snapping at my kids.
“Mom, is something wrong?” Nia finally asks when I yell at her for leaving one of her many books on the coffee table.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I huff out, still energetically wiping the table with a cloth.
“You’re acting like something is, Mama,” Jaylen agrees from the couch, watching me with concern in his big brown eyes. Shit…
“There’s noth…” I start, then stop myself. They’re right. I’m being crazy. And it’s because I can’t stop thinking about a man who is apparently pretending I don’t exist.
On Sunday morning, I wake up with a plan. Tonight’s family dinner. Blayne rarely misses family dinner. I’ll corner him at my parents’, demand an explanation for his behavior, and get this stupid situation sorted out.
Except when we arrive at the house at five o’clock, Blayne’s truck is nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Blayne?” I ask as casually as I can manage regarding the state I’ve been in for most of the week.
“Said he had to take care of something,” my dad replies, not meeting my eyes. “He’ll try to make it next week.”
Had to take care of something? Fucking next week?! Right. The same man who’s never missed a Sunday dinner in more than a decade suddenly has something more important to do.
“What kind of something?” I press.
“Didn’t say.”
Mama gives me a look across the table that’s part sympathy, part knowing amusement. “I’m sure he’ll be around soon, honey.”
“We just need to finish getting organized for the dance,” I lie.
“Of course,” my mother answers in that tone that means she doesn’t believe me for a second.
I catch myself glancing at his empty chair more often than I should. Even the kids seem to notice his absence. Annalise keeps asking where he is, and Jaylen mentions he was hoping to talk to Blayne about football tryouts.
By the time we’re ready to leave, I’m fuming.
“Mom, can I spend the night here?” Annalise asks as we’re getting ready to go. “Grandma said she’d make pancakes in the morning.”
“I want to stay at Emma’s house, please,” Nia jumps in. “Her mom already said it was okay.”
“Can I go to Jake’s?” Jaylen adds his own request. “We’re working on a project for school.”
I look around at my children, who apparently coordinated to abandon me for the evening, and realize this might be exactly what I need.
“Fine,” I say. “But I want you all home by lunch tomorrow.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m driving away from my parents’ house with no kids, no plans, and a growing determination to get answers.
Blayne wants to avoid me? Fine. But he’s gonna have to do it to my face.
* * *
Blayne’s house is beautiful. Set back from the road, with a long driveway that gives me plenty of time to second-guess my decision.
By the time I pull up in front of the main building, my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding. This is crazy. I’m about to march up to a man’s front door and demand to know why he’s been avoiding me after one kiss. One really, really good kiss. Yeah, I’m nuts.
His truck is in the driveway, along with a huge, gleaming motorcycle, so I guess he’s home. There’s no backing out now.
I march up to the front door and knock before I can lose my nerve.
It takes him a while to answer, long enough that I start to wonder if he’s going to pretend he’s not home. But finally, the door opens, and there he is.
He’s wearing jeans and nothing else… Hair damp, like he just got out of the shower.
God, I forgot how tall he is. How big. Looming over me with one huge hand on the doorframe, the other on the wooden panel.
His gorgeous eyes are a bit widened in surprise.
His full, pink lips parted. He’s all brawn and muscle under golden skin.
My eyes travel down his corded neck, following the simple chain holding his dog tags.
I’m staring. I know it. But there’s nothing I can do to keep my gaze from hungrily taking in his scars, his tattoos, the thin layer of dark hair between his massive pectorals, the way it thins down between his defined abs, pointing to the band of his worn jeans.
God, he’s pretty. Lickable. Panty-ruining-ly handsome.
And seeing him like this brings back every damn second of our kiss in vivid detail.
The way he smelled, how he felt against my body, his heat, the taste of him…
“Reggie.” His voice is rough, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not a good time.”
“I don’t care.” I push past him into his house before he can stop me, my heart beating wildly from the anger I’ve carried and nursed for days, the hurt, the embarrassment…
and from being utterly turned on by the sight of this man half-naked.
“You’ve been avoiding me this whole week, and I want to know why. ”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
I turn to face him, and he’s closed the door, but he’s standing as far away from me as possible. Like I might attack him if he gets too close. Fuck his stupid, hotter-than-hell self!
“Bullshit. You missed dinner tonight. You never miss Mama’s dinner.”
“I had things to do.” His face is closed-off, his eyes shuttered, tone monotone. Still bare-chested and drool-worthy, though… Focus, Regina!
“What things?”
“Reggie…”
“What things, Blayne?” I step closer, not letting his intoxicating scent of the heat emanating from his massive body cloud my brain, which is a struggle. And he takes a step back… “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you kissed me, then decided you made a mistake.”
Something dark flashes in his blue eyes, and he grits out between clenched teeth, “that is not what happened, Regina.” Oh, we doin’ full names now?!
“Then what happened, Blayne? Because one minute we’re kissing in my sewing room, and the next one you’re acting like I don’t fucking exist.”
“It’s complicated.” He runs a hand through his thick, short hair, and for a second I get distracted by the way his muscles contract under his tanned skin. Fuck!
“Everything’s complicated. That doesn’t mean you get to run away.”
He sighs, so fucking hot with his eyes turning fiery, his chest heaving with irritation… fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m not running away.”
“Then what are you doing, Blayne?”
He cups the back of his neck, his gaze falling to his bare feet. Dammit, even his toes are sexy. Ugh!! And I watch, fascinated, as his internal struggle displays on his handsome features. When he looks at me again, there’s something raw in his expression.
“I’m trying to do the right thing, Reggie,” he says. And this time there’s softness infused in his tone.
It’s my turn to let out a tired sigh. Feeling my anger deflate. “Which is?”
“Staying away from you and your kids.”
His words hit me like a slap. And I have to rest a hand on my chest before I can breathe out a pathetic, “Why?”
“We already had this conversation, Reggie. You just got divorced and moved back here. You have children and a business to worry about. The last thing you need is a man like me complicating your life.”
“Don’t I get a say in what I need?” I ask softly. All the fight has left me.
“Reggie…” Blayne answers just as gently.
And it’s his soothing tone that gets me. My irritation flares back up. “I’m serious. Don’t I get to decide for myself?”
He stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the war playing out on his face. Want, need, hunger, responsibility, sense of duty. Desire battling what he believes is right.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says finally, shaking his head.
“Then tell me. Explain it to me.” I take a step closer, raising my hands in emphasis.
“You wanna know what I think about when I look at you, sweetheart?” His voice is rougher, more intense, the blue flames in his eyes blazing.
“I think about getting you fucking naked, Reggie. About getting my mouth on every fucking inch of your skin until you forget your own fucking name. And making you come so hard you can’t fucking walk for days.
That’s what the fuck I think about, baby. ”
He’s breathing hard, towering over me, his massive chest heaving, eyes wild. His scent, the heat from his body, his very presence making heat flood through me. And his words… God, his words… But this is what I came here for, right? Honesty, the truth about what’s happening between us.
I take a fortifying breath and advance even closer, asking, “And?”