CHAPTER 27
Lila
I kissed my former internship supervisor. A professor at the university I’ve still not graduated from. My mom’s co-worker. My parents’ good friend. A man twelve years my senior.
And I don’t feel one bit sorry about it.
But I do feel like my dad is reading my mind right now and isn’t too happy with what he sees.
“Can you grab the parmesan from the fridge?” he asks, sending me a weird look over his shoulder. Or maybe it’s just a normal look, but the guilt is making me see things.
My feet move on autopilot as I grab the cheese and walk back to where my dad is getting the lasagna ready to go in the oven. “Here you go,” I tell him absentmindedly.
Because there’s only room in my head for the feel of Reed’s lips devouring mine, his hands holding me with a mix of possession and tenderness I’d never felt before, the sounds—
“Li.”
Shit .
“I’m listening,” I rush out.
My dad sends me a knowing look. “Is that why you gave me a pack of shredded mozzarella instead of the parmesan I asked for? Because you were listening?”
Nerves swirl in my stomach, and I don’t trust myself to answer. Instead, I grab the stupid mozzarella and put it back in the fridge, passing him the parmesan this time.
My aunt Maddie and I always joke that my mom must have some kind of psychic powers she’s been keeping from us because she always knows what’s up just by looking at us. Judging by the intense way my dad is glancing at me now, I’d argue her powers have finally rubbed off on him after almost three decades of marriage.
“When did Mom say she was coming home?” I ask, a poor attempt at distracting him.
He starts grating the parmesan on the lasagna. “She just texted me she’s on her way.”
My parents have never been big party people—my dad doesn’t even drink alcohol—but my mom’s editor at the publishing house called her earlier to grab a few drinks downtown with other colleagues, and she said yes.
Her Saturday night plans are far more interesting than mine, which isn’t that hard in the first place. It isn’t exactly a competition with a twenty-four-year-old who has sworn off men and parties in order to graduate with the best possible results, but now that she’s pretty much done, she still can’t find it within herself to go out.
“You seem out of it today.”
He eyes me in the same way my mom does when she knows something she shouldn’t. Which is why I tell him, “Just thinking about the Youth Counseling Expo.”
It’s not a total lie. Since my thesis got accepted, I’ve been drafting a shorter version for my presentation. Now that I think about it, I should probably email it to Reed for feedback. That thought isn’t making my palms sweat at all.
Karla wasn’t accepted, and she seemed pretty upset about it, so I avoid talking about it when I’m with her. She said she was happy for me, but I still don’t want to make her feel bad. I know it was important for her.
“That’s coming up soon, right?” he asks as he puts the lasagna in the oven and sets up the timer.
When I told my parents about the conference, they were excited for me but sad because they wouldn’t be able to attend. The moment I told them Reed would be there, though, they instantly relaxed.
“He’ll look out for you,” my dad had said.
I wonder if he would relax this much if he knew what happened between us last night.
“I’m just worried because it was such a sudden thing,” he adds, wiping off the counter as I watch from the kitchen island. I’m too fidgety to help without dropping everything. “Your paper got accepted quickly, almost as if they were waiting for you to apply. Are you nervous?”
I shrug. “A little, but I’m trying to be less dramatic. This conference is important but not decisive for my future, you know?”
“It may not be decisive, but you should take it seriously. You never know who’s watching.” He doesn’t sound angry when he says it, just his usual worried self.
“And here I was, considering wearing a swimsuit onstage and chewing gum while I did my presentation.”
His tattooed knuckles rub my head, making me chuckle.
“I swear, you and Maddie will be the death of me with all that attitude,” he says, referring to my aunt, whose sass I’m pretty sure I inherited somehow.
We stay silent for the next few minutes, my dad looking at something on his phone and me watching the oven because I can’t concentrate on anything else other than last night.
What would’ve happened if I hadn’t told him to stop? Would we have ended up in his bed?
“Hey, Li?”
I jump, pretty sure my cheeks are burning hot.
My dad is right there, and I’m thinking about sleeping with his friend. Classy.
“Mmm.”
“Do you want the shop?”
My heart stops.
“What?”
I must be still inside this Reed-induced mental fog. Because, surely, my dad’s not saying…
“Do you want Inkjection?” he repeats.
My mouth opens and closes once, twice, but no words come out. Because what the hell is he saying right now?
Is this about the retirement Mariah told me about?
Needing to make sure my brain isn’t making stuff up, I ask him very carefully, enunciating every word, “Are you asking me if I want the tattoo shop?”
He nods, confirming my suspicions.
“And do what with it, Dad?” My voice doesn’t sound accusatory, only confused. He’s lost his mind—must be all those gray hairs he insists my aunt and I are responsible for.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Sell it. Find new management. Your call.”
My dad has lost it. One thousand percent.
“Dad, what’s going on?” I ask, fearing his answer.
Because my best friend might have warned me already, but I’m not ready to hear it from him.
“Nothing’s wrong, but I’m not getting any younger. You didn’t expect me to work until I dropped dead, did you?”
“Of course not, but…”
“I was thinking of retiring next year. In the summer, maybe.”
I knew this, so why am I freaking out?
“Okay” is all I can give him.
My dad has been a tattoo artist since I was born. I even tattooed him once when I was five, a little heart on his wrist he swears is his favorite tattoo. He doesn’t look a day older than fifty, and he’s in great shape. His health is good, too, so there’s no reason for me to think this is the end of the world.
And yet.
He waves a tattooed hand in front of my eyes, a hint of laughter in his voice. “You there?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “Sorry if it caught you off guard. I just think it’s time to step back and let the new generation take over. I’m proud of everything I’ve done with the shop. I’ll still be around because tattooing will forever be part of me, but…”
I nod my understanding. “But you don’t want to be there every day. I get that.”
“It’s not that I’ve fallen out of love with this work—I never could.” He runs a hand over his dark hair. “I’ve been busting my ass since I was fifteen, learning the ropes. Then I opened Inkjection, and I haven’t stopped working because I love it, but also because I had a family to support. Now that Maddie has her own ballet studio and you’re on your way to becoming a badass youth counselor”—I snort at that—“I feel like it’s the perfect time to take a step back. Mom and I want to travel a bit, relax more. I’ve been dying to go on a cruise for years now. Need to see for myself that a bowling alley really fits inside a ship, y’know?”
Nobody deserves a break more than my parents. They fought hard to make a name for themselves—my dad in tattooing and my mom in publishing. They raised my aunt when her own parents couldn’t, and then they raised me with nothing but love and support.
I round the kitchen island to wrap my arms around his middle, settling my head on top of his heart. He envelops me in one of his signature bear hugs, and I chuckle when my feet leave the ground.
“I think that’s a great idea, Dad.” I smile up at him once he sets me back down. “You deserve a break. I was just not expecting to have this conversation right now, that’s all. Although Mariah did mention something not long ago.”
“I could’ve tried a gentler approach,” he admits. “But the offer still stands. If you want the shop, it’s yours. And if you don’t want it, that’s fine too. I just wanted to talk to you before making a decision.”
“What does Uncle Trey think?”
“He wants to retire, too. We’ll do it at the same time.” He scratches his stubbled chin. “We’ve talked about the future of the shop since he’s a co-owner now, but he’s happy with whatever I decide. He knows it’ll be for the best.”
A thought creeps into my head, one that makes too much sense. “Dad, what if you—”
“I’m home!”
My dad kisses the top of my head just as footsteps start down the hallway.
“We’ll finish this conversation later,” he tells me. “I don’t want you to worry. Tunnel vision until you nail your presentation at the conference, okay?”
I’m thinking that said tunnel vision isn’t exactly working anyway because I can’t get his friend out of my mind, when the devil himself walks into my kitchen right behind my mom.
“Hey, Reed,” my dad greets him, giving him a friendly slap on the back and not sounding even the slightest bit surprised he’s here. “How’s it going?”
“Not too bad,” the man in question answers, glancing at me for the briefest second before looking away. “Smells good in here.”
“I’m not ashamed to admit my husband is the better cook out of the two of us,” my mom chimes in before getting on her tiptoes to kiss my dad. She turns to me. “Hi, honey. Are you joining us for dinner?”
Dinner with my parents and their friend who I kissed less than twenty-four hours ago? Sure—I’m a sucker for pain and awkward situations.
“Sure,” I say, hoping my tight-lipped smile doesn’t look too freaked out.
Don’t get awkward around me now, little criminal.
That’s what Reed told me last night before I went back home, yet he’s the one not acknowledging me now. He’s the one who walked through the door and didn’t even say hello, despite me being right here.
Standing around in the kitchen, my dad asks him about Ginny, to which Reed answers she’s alone at home, but he purchased this fancy camera so he can watch her through his phone. Then they launch into an animated conversation about dog care, and I excuse myself to set the table while my mom disappears upstairs to get changed.
I have no clue as to why Reed is in my house on a Saturday night, the day after kissing me against a wall. But if he isn’t interested in acknowledging me, then fine. Two can play this game.
When my mom comes down the stairs, she walks up to me and kisses my cheek. “Did you have a good day today?”
I make a noncommittal sound at the back of my throat. “How about you? How’s Dianne?” I ask, referring to her editor.
“She’s doing well. Prepping for a big publishing conference they have coming up.” ’Tis the season for conferences, it seems. She lets out a long, tired sigh. “I don’t miss going out, though. We’ve only been out for a couple hours, and I was ready to come home in the first ten minutes.”
I chuckle. I’m my mother’s daughter, no doubt. “Was it the Christmas party?”
“Kind of. It was more of an informal thing, just a few of us,” she explains. “I’m surprised Reed agreed to go out with us. He’s even more of a hermit than I am.”
My lips tingle with the phantom touch of his kiss.
“Yeah,” I mutter, betraying myself and casting a quick glance at Reed and my dad chatting in the kitchen. “Why is he here?”
“Li,” my mom hisses. “Don’t be rude.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say truthfully. “I’m just curious.”
She looks at me for a moment too long that has me freaking out. Psychic powers .
“I invited him because he’s our friend,” she finally says. “But also to thank him for everything he’s done for you over the past few months.”
I’m about to be sick.
“He was just doing his job,” I mutter.
“I know that. Still, I want to thank him for taking such good care of you.”
Am I seeing things, or is my mom implying something that has nothing to do with the professional relationship between Reed and me?
There’s no way she knows I kissed him.
But what if Reed told her?
No. He doesn’t have a death wish.
“Why are you asking? Did something happen?” she asks in a low voice, a hint of something in her voice, which is enough to make my head spin.
She knows.
“Not particularly,” I lie. “I wasn’t expecting company, but I don’t mind him.”
“I’d assume so, seeing how much time you’re spending with him now.”
I’m so busted.
The urge to give up this charade, throw myself into my mom’s arms, and tell her everything is almost too strong to resist. Luckily, clarity hits me first—no matter how much my parents like him, I don’t know how they’ll react to us being that close. I don’t need to put my master’s to use to guess they won’t take it too well, considering the warning my dad gave me in the car not long ago.
So, I smile at my mom, channeling the purest picture of innocence, and say, “I’m going to help Dad with the salad.”
I leave before she can say anything else, straight into the wolf’s den.
My dad ruffles my hair as I pass him by in the kitchen, and I make a point not to make eye contact with Reed because I’m petty. Mom joins their conversation a moment later, all while I pretend to be immersed in the art of salad making. That is, until a presence looms at my back, making my senses tingle.
“Are you going to ignore me all night, little criminal?”
I bite my lower lip, taking advantage of the fact that my back is turned.
“Funny how you seem to be on the exact same mission, Dr. Abner.”
Is that a grunt?
His fingers brush my hip, making me jump. I look behind me, not wanting my dad to commit a murder tonight, but my parents are engrossed in conversation at the dining room table, not paying us attention.
Reed leans in until his breath is caressing my ear. “I don’t like it when you ignore me.”
I glance at him over my shoulder as he steps back. “Is this the game we’re playing now?”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
But his eyes hold a challenge in them. One I’m eager to accept.
***
Reed
I’m playing with fucking fire.
But the desire to get burned scorches my last traces of common sense, so instead of retreating to the dining room with Grace and Cal, I stay with their daughter in the kitchen.
We work in a comfortable silence, the fire burning hotter in my veins every time I brush against her as we move in the kitchen, every time a whiff of her sweet scent wraps around my lungs, every time she brushes back a strand of blonde hair that falls out of her bun.
Enthralled—that’s what I am by this woman. To the goddamn bone.
Minutes feel like hours when I can’t touch her like my body is begging to. We both agreed last night couldn’t happen again, and I had fully intended on respecting those wishes because Lila is right—this could get very complicated. I know it, too. But then I walked into her home, her light beckoning me, and all that resolve went out the window.
I feel like I’ll suffocate if I don’t kiss her again.
“How’s the puppy?” Grace asks me as we dive into our food a while later. “Lila showed me a picture the other day, and she seems to be getting bigger.”
“She’s doing well. Loves daycare, surprisingly,” I tell her.
“Surprising to you, maybe.” Lila gives me a taunting smirk. “I knew she’d love it.”
My own lips tilt. “Not all of us can be a puppy guru, I suppose.”
Grace’s gaze pinballs between us. “What’s that about?”
“Your daughter is great with dogs, apparently.”
Lila walks right into my bait. “ Apparently ? Put some respect on my name.”
“Li,” her mom chastises.
I pick up my glass of water. “It’s fine. I can handle her.”
Grace chuckles, my own smile widening until I feel it.
Lila’s socked foot is rubbing my shin under the table, moving farther up until it rests on my lap.
My movements come to a halt. The rim of my glass is pressed to my lips, but I can’t drink from it because she chooses that moment to inch closer to my groin.
Fucking hell.
I clear my throat. “This lasagna is delicious, Cal.”
Lila presses her foot into my flesh, not directly onto my groin but close enough to make the blood start pumping in my lower area. Clearly, the fact that her parents are sitting right here doesn’t faze her.
I both respect and fear her.
Cal smirks. “What can I say? Talent runs in my veins.”
Lila rolls her eyes, her foot moving back and forth in a slow, taunting way. She wants to kill me. “Love your humbleness, Dad.”
“Just speaking facts.”
“Sure, honey.” Grace shares a knowing look with Lila as she squeezes her husband’s arm.
Maybe it should make me feel some type of way to be around a structured family that loves one another, but I’ve always felt welcomed here. And I like that Lila grew up with so much love, even if it shaped her into the little minx she is today.
A minx that is driving me insane.
I grab her foot under the table, halting her exploration of my thigh. When I dare to look at her, her teasing smirk manages to make me even harder. She doesn’t make a move to free herself from my grip, and I don’t release her either.
The conversation changes to Cal’s day at the tattoo parlor, and the man who wanted his forehead tattooed. Lila wiggles her toes, trying to get away. I only let go when it becomes too suspicious that I’m keeping a hand under the table.
Luckily for my sanity, she doesn’t attempt any more rubbings. And by the time I help Grace bring all the dishes back into the kitchen, my hard-on is under control.
“I should get going,” I tell Grace as I finish loading the dishwasher. “I’m not sure how much longer Ginny will last without peeing all over my hardwood floors.”
She chuckles. “Fair enough.” Then she pauses, cleaning her hands with a dry towel. “Reed?”
“Yeah?”
Her gaze pinballs from me to Lila, who’s still in the dining room, so quickly I might have imagined it. She shakes her head. “Forget it.”
“No, you can tell me.”
She shakes her head again. “It’s okay.”
“Grace. Come on.”
“I promise it’s nothing.” The smile she gives me isn’t as sincere as her usual ones. “Thank you for coming tonight. I’ll see you next week?”
She clearly won’t tell me a thing, so I drop it. Instead, I give her a parting hug and say goodbye to Cal.
“I’m going upstairs,” Lila tells her parents before following me to the door.
Instead of walking up the stairs, though, she stays behind as I grab my jacket. The entrance is bathed in darkness, and we can hear her parents’ voices coming from the kitchen, which gives me the dangerous impression that we’re alone. When she arches a playful eyebrow at me, I know she’s thinking the same.
“That’s what you get for ignoring me tonight.” She gives me the most fake-innocent smile known to mankind.
My cock responds to it.
“You’re sure you want to poke the bear?” I ask her, my voice low.
She takes a step closer, then another, and another, until her chest is brushing mine. Her index finger travels the length from my chest to my lower stomach at a slow, torturous pace.
I hold my breath, anticipating her next move with a kind of hunger I’d never felt before her.
And then Lila leans in and whispers, “I want it more than anything.”