18-VINCENT
There he is. Drunk. Reeking of insecurity from twenty feet away. And Reagan just folded in on herself, trying to disappear. Hell no. Not tonight.
I feel the shift in her body more than I hear her words. The tension. The small, tight breath. The way she tries to hide in the crowd. I could sense she didn’t want to see him. I mean, why would she?
Fuck. He’s here, and I have to pretend it doesn’t bother me. Tate was embarrassing Reagan enough. I didn’t need to help. He was touching her. Sat right up against her like he owns the space. Who the hell does that? The whole room witnessed how uncomfortable she was.
Stay cool, just watch. But if she winces again, I’m putting him through the damn table. Calm. Calm. Don’t escalate it unless she needs me.
And now he’s touching my food. Great, I need to get us the fuck out of here. I need to get her away from him without causing a scene.
This walking discount beer stain really thinks he still has a claim on her. I’m getting firsthand, spoon-fed why she’s tired of him. She’s been carrying his ego for years, hasn’t she?
Christ, I want to get her out of here. She’s making herself small again, and I hate that.
I’m sitting here wishing I had cash instead of waiting for my card, and what does Reagan do? Tell him she wants to talk.
Smart girl. Get him up. Get him off you.
I am right behind her, just waiting on a stupid piece of plastic. Reagan probably thinks this is gonna scare me off. That a drunk ex is too much baggage. I’ve dated clingy, I’ve dated dramatic, I’ve dated boring. But her? She’s brave and doesn’t play games.
The moment I sign the receipt, I’m at the door. Tate’s hanging on her hips, oblivious that she’s trying to escape from him. I want to knock him out, but I know what the consequences are.
I grab his shoulders and rip him off her like Velcro. “You have to be pretty fucking blind to see that she isn’t interested in you anymore.”
“Fuck you, you don’t know anything.” Tate stumbled, and his friends made their way outside. I’m not interested in fighting. Well, I am, but getting arrested or seeing the aftermath of four against one while Reagan watches is not ideal.
I distance myself from Tate. “Leave her alone, Jake. That’s all she wants.”
“Wha— Jake?” His words begin to slur, and I must have confused him after calling him the wrong name on purpose.
“What is this fucking weirdo doing with your wife, man?” One calls out.
“Yeah, Tate, give us the word, and we’ll take care of it.”
Reagan is standing next to me, bored or annoyed. I’m not sure about her, but I am both. “Let’s go,” I instruct as I move her in the direction of my truck.
“What a man.” The first friend calls out. “Walking away with someone else’s wife. She’s been stringing him along, dude. She loves the attention. You’re just the rebound.”
I pull Reagan in closer under my arm, and call back, “Sharing is caring.” My lips hit the top of her head, and I couldn’t give two shits if her husband was looking. I open the driver’s door and help her inside.
“God, get me away from here. Literally anywhere.” My hand drops to her knee, squeezing for reassurance. Lightning flashes across the sky in a distant storm.
Before I back out of the parking spot, I notice Tate and his buddies are already back inside.
Not sure of the town’s outskirts, but I planned on continuing to the hillside just east of us, until I hit a dirt road. Getting her away from it all. The people. The lights. Everything that could come between us tonight.
My jaw was tight the whole drive. But she sat quietly. One of my hands gripped the wheel, while the other wrapped around her knee, tightening every time we hit a bump.
“Vincent.” She whispers low, but the silence between us makes it loud as ever.
“Yeah?”
She clears her throat. “My brother sent me a video, and—” I feel her leg move under my palm. A sign she might be nervous. She pauses long enough that I question what video her brother sent her that would concern me. “It’s about you at The Forewarning.”
“What?” I glance down at her. “What about?”
“Let me just play it for you.”
Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky. Reagan pulls up the video and reads me some messages from a group chat. I assume it’s the one I should have been in for next year. But how did it get out, and why was it so important that I took my mask off and chose Reagan?
She cuts the light to her phone, and the cab goes quiet again.
“So what’s the issue?”
“Did you really lose twenty grand because of me?”
I rolled out a sigh, “Yeah. But it’s—” I paused and dropped my hand on the wheel, “nothing.”
“Why didn’t you just say no? Twenty grand isn’t nothing, I won’t be able to pay you back.”
“You don’t have to. I’d pay twenty grand to experience that night with you again.” She shifts in her seat. “Is there anything else?”
Her lips break apart, “They’re trying to find out who you are. Not sure why it matters. But once they do, they’re going to want to know who the woman worth twenty grand is.”
I pulled off onto a dirt road and continued.
“Well, just so you know…” Reagan looks up at me.
The lights of the dash twinkled across her face.
“…I’m not here for one night.” I didn’t break my stare.
“I’m here because I want to see what this is with you.
That night in the cabin was the realist thing I felt with someone in a long time. ”
She gave a small smile like I was saying the right things.
“I’m not letting Tate scare you off from something good.” The storm was already crawling over the horizon when we left the bar. Clouds illuminated under the glow of the moon.
I turned us onto a dirt turnout overlooking miles of dark rolling fields with pine and boulders scattered throughout. Not another set of headlights in sight. Just the sky cracking open above us.
I twist the keys, killing the engine. The sudden quiet was thick and the air was growing humid without the air conditioner on.
“I’m sorry,” She turned to me and whispered. Her voice was small but steady. “I didn’t expect him to be there.”
I couldn’t answer right away. What do you say to someone who is apologizing for someone else’s actions?
Something they didn’t have control over.
My eyes were on the storm, waiting for the next strike of lightning.
“I’m not angry at you,” I said lowly. “I’m angry because you went fucking pale the second you saw him. And I hate that he can still do that.”
A thunderclap rolled across the sky, shaking the air around us. I turned to face her and leaned in, breath warm against my lips. “I needed to get you away from there,” I murmured closely. “I needed to be somewhere where the whole world isn’t clawing at us. No rules, no exes.”
Reagan’s mouth met mine, and with all the pent-up restraint I’d been carrying, a kiss from her was like releasing the barbed wire digging under my skin. Like I was finally letting myself feel every inch of what I had been holding back all night.
It didn’t take long to pick up where we left off last week. The tension was still there, if not magnified. But I couldn’t get comfortable in the seat behind the wheel. I cranked my door open and pulled away. Welcoming the dark sky and the breeze through the aspens. “Let’s get out.”
Reagan practically leaped into my arms as I found my footing in the dirt. I gripped her thighs, and she slid her hands over my chest. We could both feel my heart hammering beneath my ribcage—wild and uncontrolled. Nothing like the mask I’d worn at the event.
Lightning flared behind her, outlining the soft angles of her shoulders, the fierce devotion in her eyes. The world shrank to the cool storm around us, and the way I looked at her.
“Hmmm, Wildflower…” I whispered.
Thunder rolled, closer now, shaking the surrounding air. I kissed her before the lightning struck miles away.
Her body weight in my arms, I carry her to the bed of the truck, dropping the tailgate down with a squeak and a thud. The old shocks to the D100 Dodge bounce as I set her in the bed.
She pauses enough to back into the center of the bed just as I climb in after her.
Reagan cradles my jaw in her hands, making sure my lips are on hers, and with my hands digging into her back pockets, I force her body to mine. Her jeans slid against the metal with ease, and my cock was growing harder while we knelt in the bed of my truck.
I caught a flash of red behind my eyelids as the lightning continued to put on its show. The energy between us couldn’t be more magnified. But each minute was proven wrong.
Her chest heaves into mine. Her fingers drop to my chest, slowly descending my body like she doesn’t know if this is a mistake or if I will stop her. The warmth pressure of her fingertips grazed the front of my pants, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I sprang through the zipper.
Fuck. I want to grab her breast. I wanted to yank her pants down her thighs just enough to expose her. I wanted to bend her over the roof of the cab with a fist full of hair as she screamed over the thunder.
But I wouldn’t take from her, not from Wildflower.
Her hand moved down my zipper slowly. Each metal notch beat against me, vibrating the front of my pants. My fingers weaved through her hair, resisting the urge to clench a handful and wanting to match the agony I was feeling.
I pushed my hand between the apex of her thighs. Her jeans are hot to the touch. I find it hard to focus because Reagan has broken through the first barrier. My nerves are sensitive under the thin material, and I continue to feel the texture and seams of her pants.
The cool air hits my cock, making me stiffen until both Reagan’s hands are on it. Warming me with each stroke.
Her lips break from mine, and it takes me a second to open my eyes. The glow of the moon behind me reflects in her eyes. The lightning continues to dance around the hills while the thunder rumbles through us. I kissed her again, not sure why we stopped.
“Vincent.” She repeats herself on top of my mouth.
It takes me a moment to pull back. “Yeah?”
“Lay down so I can fuck you.”
I swing my knees out, stretch across the truck bed, and keep myself exposed enough.
And Reagan—Reagan’s taking her jeans off.
Then her shirt. And I question if I should be doing the same.
I lean forward, pulling the arm of my jacket and repeating it on the other side until it’s flat under me.
I pull my shirt over my head, and as soon as it is off, Reagan is kneeling there in the moonlight.
Naked, soft, and perfect. The lightning strikes, exposing her to me.
None of this was work; all of Reagan was luck.