13. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Rayne
The hum of the bar surrounds me, a mix of laughter and clinking glasses, the occasional burst of music from the speakers drowning out conversations. It’s not deafening, but it’s enough to set my teeth on edge. Bars aren’t really my thing—too many people, too much noise—but for Kahlee, I make exceptions. She always picks the least chaotic spot she can find, and tonight is no different. We’re tucked away at a small table in the corner, far enough from the crowd that we don’t have to raise our voices over the din.
I wrap my fingers around the stem of the glass she had waiting for me. White wine, exactly as I like it. Kahlee’s unspoken rule: whoever gets there first orders the first round. “Two drinks max,” she’d said once, after a long night years ago. A tradition we’ve stuck with ever since.
"God, Rayne," she says, her voice warm, familiar, tugging me out of my thoughts. "It’s been way too long since we did this."
She leans back in her chair, a small smile tugging at her lips as she takes a sip of her drink. The deep red of her cocktail matches the flush on her freckled cheeks, her brownish-red hair catching the low light of the room.
"Far too long," I agree, swirling the wine in my glass before taking a slow sip. It’s smooth, crisp, just sweet enough. "How are you? And how’s Ivy?"
At the mention of her daughter, Kahlee’s expression softens instantly, her green eyes lighting up with that unmistakable maternal love.
"She’s so good," she says, her voice dipping into that fond, dreamy tone she always gets when she talks about Ivy. "She’s learning this silly little dance routine right now. Keeps running around the house, making me her 'audience.'"
"She sounds like a handful," I say with a laugh, though warmth pools in my chest at the thought of Ivy’s endless energy.
"She is," Kahlee admits, but there’s no mistaking the pride in her smile. "But she’s worth every second of it. That girl…" She trails off for a moment, staring down at her glass. When she looks back up, the edges of her smile have tightened, just slightly. "I’m just glad she doesn’t have to deal with… Well, you know."
"Her father," I finish quietly for her, watching the way her shoulders stiffen slightly before she nods.
"Yeah." She sighs and sits forward again, brushing a hand through her hair. "Thank God he’s locked up where he belongs. She deserves better than—" Her words catch for a moment before she shakes her head, forcing another smile. "Better than that mess. But I’m okay. We’re okay. Better than okay, actually."
"Good," I tell her, meaning it. Watching Kahlee’s confidence grow these past few years has been something else entirely. "You both deserve nothing less."
Kahlee swirls the stem of her glass between her fingers, her nails catching the dim bar light as she watches me with a raised brow. The faint hum of conversation and clinking glasses fills the space around us, but here in this corner, it feels almost private. She leans forward slightly, her elbow resting on the table.
"It’s been three years," I say suddenly, the thought bubbling to the surface as I watch her. "Can you believe that?"
"Three years since…?" she prompts, though the smile tugging at her lips tells me she knows exactly what I’m talking about.
"Since you walked into my studio. Ivy was, what? Not even walking yet?" I chuckle softly, taking another sip of my wine.
"She was seven months old," Kahlee says, her voice softer now, reflective. Her gaze drops for a moment before she meets mine again. "I almost didn’t go through with that shoot, you know."
"Why?" I ask, though I already know the answer. Still, hearing it from her feels different—like proof of how far she’s come.
"Because I was… just so broken," she admits, her fingers tightening briefly around the base of her glass. "I didn’t think there was anything left worth capturing. But then you…" She pauses, exhaling softly. "You saw me differently. You made me feel like I could be someone again."
"That’s because you are someone," I say firmly, setting my glass down. "You always have been, Kahlee. You just needed a reminder."
"Well, you gave me more than that." Her lips spread into a warm smile, genuine and filled with gratitude. "You pushed me to pick up my camera again. Do you know how hard it was to even look at it back then? Let alone start shooting again?"
"Now look at you," I say, gesturing toward her with an exaggerated flourish. "The go-to family photographer in town. Everyone wants Kahlee Pearce to take their Christmas card photos."
"Stop it," she laughs, swatting at the air between us, but there’s a pink tinge rising to her cheeks. "It’s not like that."
"Yes, it is," I insist, grinning. "Don’t argue with me. I’ve seen your calendar. Booked solid through next spring, aren’t you?"
"Okay, fine," she concedes, laughing again. "But seriously, Rayne… Thank you. For everything. I don’t know where I’d be if—" She cuts herself off, shaking her head as if to banish the thought. "Anyway, enough about me. What about you? How have you been? Anything exciting happen since we last caught up?"
Her question catches me mid-sip, and I nearly choke on my wine. I set the glass down carefully, avoiding her gaze as I try to compose myself. My mind races, images flashing unbidden—Knox’s piercing eyes, River’s wicked grin, the heat of their touch. My cheeks burn, and I press my lips together tightly.
"Wait a minute," Kahlee says, narrowing her eyes at me. She points a finger in my direction, a teasing smirk spreading across her face. "That hesitation. That’s new. Something happened, didn’t it?"
"Uh…" I start, but the words won’t come. How the hell do I even begin to explain last night ?
"Spill it," she demands, leaning forward eagerly. "Come on, Rayne. Don’t leave me hanging. You know I live for drama. Did you meet someone? Go on a date? Hook up with some ridiculously hot stranger?"
"Not… exactly," I mumble, feeling the weight of her expectation pressing down on me.
"Not exactly ?" she repeats, her grin widening. "Oh, this is going to be good. Tell me everything. And don’t you dare hold back."
"Alright, fine," I say, setting my glass down and leaning in so Kahlee can hear me over the hum of the bar. A sly grin is already tugging at her lips, anticipation glinting in her eyes. "You’re not going to believe this."
"Try me," she says, her voice dripping with curiosity as she rests her chin on her palm.
"Okay." I take a breath, trying to decide where to even begin. "So, last night, I had this… photoshoot. A couples' erotic shoot."
"Wait, wait—" Kahlee sits up straighter, her hand flying out to stop me. "I knew you did boudoir stuff, but erotic ? Since when?"
"Since forever," I reply with a shrug, though I feel the faintest blush creeping up my neck. "It's rare, but yeah, I do those sometimes. Anyway, this couple comes in—two men."
"Two men?" Her brows lift, intrigued. "Hot?"
"Beyond hot," I say, and immediately my heart kicks up a notch just thinking about them. My fingers toy with the stem of my wineglass as I lean closer, dropping my voice. "One of them was this tall, brooding type. Gruff, commanding, the kind of guy who doesn’t need to raise his voice because one look does all the talking for him. And the other—" I shake my head, a small, involuntary laugh slipping past my lips. "Mischievous as hell. Wicked smile, sharp tongue. You could tell he loved stirring up trouble. Both muscular and tattooed, and did I say hot?"
"Good God," Kahlee breathes, her eyes wide. "That’s not fair. That’s too much sexy for one relationship. Let me guess—they seduced you during the shoot?"
"Ummm, actually yes," I admit, biting my bottom lip before continuing. "Somehow, before the photoshoot had even gotten fully started, I ended up in the bed with both of them. And let me tell you"—I pause, meeting her gaze firmly—"it was the most erotic experience of my life."
"Shut up," she whispers, her jaw dropping slightly. Then, as if catching herself, she lets out a dramatic sigh and clasps her hands together like she’s praying. "Rayne, you won the goddamn lottery. Two insanely hot guys, and you got both? Please tell me you’re about to give me every single dirty detail because I need to live vicariously through you."
Her enthusiasm bubbles up, pulling a laugh from me. "Alright, alright," I say, holding up a hand. "Where do I even start?"
"Anywhere!" she insists, practically bouncing in her seat.
I’m about to dive into the memory, the heat of it still fresh enough to make my skin tingle, when something catches my eye. Movement, a flicker in my peripheral vision. My words falter, and I glance toward the far side of the bar.
For a moment, it’s like the rest of the world goes out of focus. My breath hitches, and I swear my heart skips a beat. There, weaving between the tables, is a tall figure with cropped dark hair that’s just long enough to curl at the top. His broad shoulders and muscular frame are impossible to mistake, even under the dim lighting. Hazel eyes, piercing and intense, seem to flash in my memory, and I feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.
"Rayne?" Kahlee’s voice tugs at my attention, but I barely hear her.
I blink, forcing myself to focus, but the figure is gone. My gaze darts around the room, scanning for him. Knox. It had to be Knox. But how? Why would he even be here?
"Rayne?" Kahlee asks again, this time sharper. "What is it?"
"Nothing," I say quickly, shaking my head as though to clear it. But I can’t help glancing toward the hallway leading to the restrooms. For just a fleeting second, I could have sworn I saw him heading that way.
"Hold on," I murmur, pushing back my chair. "I’ll be right back."
"Hey, what—" Kahlee starts, but I don’t wait to hear her finish. My pulse pounds in my ears as I weave through the crowd, following an invisible pull toward the hallway.
The hallway is dimly lit, the hum of the bar fading into a muffled buzz behind me. My heels click softly against the worn floor as I step further in, my eyes darting between the men's and women's restroom doors. The faint scent of cleaning solution lingers in the air, sharp and sterile compared to the beer-soaked haze of the main room.
I hesitate, my gaze shifting to the door at the end of the hallway, its edges scuffed from years of use. It probably leads to an alleyway, but instinct keeps me rooted where I stand. For a moment, I feel ridiculous. Maybe I imagined him. Maybe the wine and our conversation about them had stirred something in me—something that conjured his presence out of thin air.
With a sigh, I turn on my heel, ready to head back to Kahlee and laugh this off as some weird coincidence.
Then I hear it—a soft creak of a hinge, the distinct sound of a door opening behind me. My breath catches, and I swivel back toward the noise.
Knox steps out of the men's room.