Chapter 12
Twelve
Blayne
The second we’re alone in Reggie’s sewing room, the air gets thick as hell. I’ve been fighting the urge to touch her for the past hour, watching her move around her kitchen, laugh at the crazy stuff the kids say, be this amazing mom who makes my chest fill with warmth.
Now she’s standing three feet away, and all I can think about is how she looked spread out in my bed this morning.
“So,” Regina starts, and her voice sounds a little breathless. “Your suit.”
“Right. My suit.”
I hang the garment bag where she points and start unbuttoning my shirt. When I look up, she’s staring at my hands like they’re doing something way more interesting than working buttons.
“You know,” I say, pulling the shirt off, “I’m starting to think you just wanna get your hands on me.”
“What makes you say that?” Her eyes are glued to my body, taking their sweet time.
“Call it a hunch.”
“I’m being professional.”
“Sure you are.”
I shrug into the suit jacket, and she steps closer with the measuring tape. This close, I can smell whatever shampoo she uses, and it makes me want to bury my face in her hair and stay there.
“Arms up,” she instructs, all business.
I raise my arms, and she runs the tape around my chest. Her fingers keep brushing my skin, and I’m about two seconds from saying, fuck the alterations.
“How does it feel?” she asks.
“Like hell.”
“The jacket, Blayne.”
“I know what you meant.”
Reggie steps back to check what she’s measuring, and I catch her looking at my mouth. Again.
“The shoulders are perfect,” she announces. “The length is good. The waist needs to come in a little.”
“Whatever you think.”
She moves behind me, smoothing her hands down the back of the jacket. When her fingers brush my neck, I nearly lose my mind.
“Reggie…”
“What?”
“You know what.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“Bullshit. You’re killing me, and you know it.”
She comes back around, and now there’s a smirk on her beautiful face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Right.”
She reaches up to mess with the lapels, her knuckles brushing my chest, and I catch her wrists.
“Careful, princess.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’m gonna forget your kids are right down the hall and give you exactly what you’re looking for.”
Her breath catches, and I can see her pulse going crazy in her throat. “They’re doing the dishes. That’s at least ten minutes with Annalise in charge.”
“Ten minutes is nowhere near enough for what I wanna do to you.”
“What do you wanna do to me?”
The question comes out all raspy, and the want in her eyes matches what’s been eating at me all day.
“I want your jeans on the floor,” I say, keeping my voice low. “My mouth all over your fucking perfect body. I want to make you come so hard you scream my fucking name.”
She sways toward me. But then Annalise’s voice carries from the kitchen, asking something about the dishwasher, and we both freeze.
I drop Reggie’s wrists and step back. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
We just stare at each other, both breathing hard, both wanting things we can’t have right now.
“I should finish,” she finally says.
“Yeah.”
She grabs her pins and starts marking where the jacket needs work. Her hands are steady now, all professional, but her breathing’s still hard.
“It won’t take long to fix,” she says. “Maybe an hour.”
“When?” I ask, and she knows exactly what I mean.
“Tomorrow? After the kids leave for school?”
“What time?”
“Nine?”
“I’ll be here.”
She steps back, pupils dilated, grinning up at me. “You can take it off now.”
I pull off the jacket and get my shirt back on while she hangs the suit up carefully.
“All set,” Reggie says, running her palm over my chest.
“Thanks,” I reply, covering her hand with mine, our eyes connected. Smiling at each other like lovesick fools.
I want to kiss her, want to push her against the table and get my fill. But her kids are only feet away.
“Blayne?” Annalise calls out. “Are you done? Can we dance now?”
“Coming, princess.”
“You don’t have to,” Reggie says softly, shaking her head with a smile.
“Promised her dance lessons. Can’t back out now.”
“A man who keeps his promises.” Her tone is teasing, but the light in her eyes says this means a lot to her.
So I spend the next twenty minutes getting schooled in father-daughter dancing by a six-year-old who takes the whole thing very seriously. She shows me how to hold her hand, how to spin her around, how to dip her without dropping her.
“You’re getting really good!” she announces after our third try.
“I have a good teacher.”
Reggie snorts, sitting at her breakfast bar, sipping on some tea, watching us.
“I know!” She grins up at me. “Mama, did you see? We’re gonna be the best!”
“I saw, baby. You’re both amazing.”
I look over at Reggie, who’s studying us with a soft expression. Like she’s seeing something she didn’t expect.
“All right, princess, I better head home. Got work early in the morning.”
“Do you have to go?” Annalise asks with a cute little pout.
“Yeah, but I’ll see you Friday, right? For our big dance?”
“Right! In my sparkly dress!”
“Can’t wait, sweetie.”
I say bye to her siblings, then walk with Reggie to the door.
“Thanks for dinner, neighbor,” I say.
“Thanks for being so good with my baby. She was nervous about the dance.”
“She has nothing to worry about. She’s gonna steal the show.”
The backs of our hands are brushing, and we’re staring into each other’s eyes, saying things we can’t voice out loud right now.
“You’re really good with kids.”
“Don’t know shit about kids, beautiful.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
We’re standing really close, and I can feel that pull between us, the same thing that’s been drawing me to her all these years. And to know that now she feels if too. Fuck.
“Nine tomorrow?” I ask.
“Nine.”
“See you then, baby.”
“See you, cowboy.”
I’m halfway to my truck when she calls out.
“Blayne?”
I turn back. “Yeah?”
“Make sure to wear the hat tomorrow.”
I grin, touching my forehead with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.”
Driving home, I can’t stop thinking about how she looked at me tonight. Not just the wanting, though there was plenty of that, but something else. Something that looked almost like she might actually want more with me.
This was supposed to be easy. No strings, no mess, just two adults having some fun.
But sitting at her table, listening to her kids, watching her, made me feel like maybe I could belong somewhere… And that’s the kind of shit that changes everything.