19. Reed
reed
Kids are the worst.
Rose and I are drenched, the sides of our faces and torsos taking the brunt of the spray. Two young boys dart away with their huge plastic water guns, laughing over their perfect shots. They probably need to reload after unleashing all that.
Rose stares up at me, frozen. For a second, I’m worried she’s about to burst into tears. But it’s laughter that has her shoulders shaking. The joyful sound loosens my muscles, easing the tension that had set in.
“I don’t think we deserved that.” She runs a hand over her face, dripping onto her shirt. The side of her head is wet, and she squeezes strands of her hair between her fingers.
“I know we didn’t.” I rake my hand through my hair a few times, shaking it out. I scan the park grounds, but our assailants are nowhere to be seen. “Kids have disappeared.”
“You think they were going to stick around and risk getting caught by you?” She flaps the side of her shirt, keeping it from clinging to her skin. At least in this heat, the fabric should dry quickly. Not much of a consolation.
“I wasn’t going to do anything to them. I just want to have a word or two about manners.” I could be rotten when I was a kid, too, but I still wouldn’t have tried anything like this.
“Just looking at them wrong would have been a threat from you. You’re scary.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard something like that. I don’t try to be menacing—mostly—but people can take a lack of a smile as an implied threat. Along with my height and build, it’s not hard to scare people off. Even ones I’d rather draw in.
“Are you afraid of me?” It comes out too rough to be teasing, but I need to know the answer. I don’t want her to be nervous around me for any reason.
Her defiant grin tugs at something deep in my chest. “Never. You’re all bark.”
I suspect she’s always known that. From the moment Rose first walked into Perk Me Up, she had my number. No matter how much I scowled and growled, my gruff demeanor couldn’t fool her. Maybe that’s what I liked about her from the start.
“You’ve got—” She reaches up, her fingers moving along my hairline at my temple, her thumb hovering in front of my face. “Close your eyes.”
I obey instantly. Her thumb gently glides over my eyelashes, freeing water droplets along with a shiver through my limbs. She traces a similar path across my cheekbone, sweeping the wetness away. My breath hitches at that soft little touch, silently begging for more.
“You can open again.” Her hand still cups my face, her thumb slowly gliding along my beard line before she drops it away. “You’ve got crazy thick eyelashes.”
“They’re genetic.” As if she thinks I’m wearing false ones. “Nathan has them, too.”
Really wish I didn’t bring him up right now.
“That must be why you have such pretty eyes.”
Pretty eyes. Not at the top of my list of body parts I’d want her to compliment, but I’ll take it.
She shakes her hands through her hair, combing it with her fingers. Her gaze darts to mine, expectant. “Do I look okay?”
Her dark hair is lopsided now, one side falling in soft, lush waves, the other hanging in limp, wet tendrils. I tuck the stem of blue flowers Fran gave me behind her ear on the damp side. “You always look beautiful.”
Her smile has a hesitance to it. She’s not sure if she believes me.
I could go on and convince her properly.
Tell her that the first time she walked through the coffee shop’s doors I couldn’t breathe for how stunning she was.
That she’s stolen my breath every day since.
That as easily as she knocks me out, her external beauty is the least interesting thing about her.
It’s her gorgeous heart that truly makes her shine.
That even if our fake dating scheme pulverizes my heart when it ends, I can’t bring myself to stop. Not if it means I get to spend more time with her.
“Come on.” She loops her arm through mine, tugging me back to the craft fair. “Let’s go find safety in numbers. We still have more to see.”
We covered most of the vendors already, but we dutifully explore the last of the booths.
She smiles over everything, chatting with people in the stalls about what they make or if they’re having a successful day.
She’s got an ease with people I’ve never had and frankly, don’t understand.
It would never occur to me to talk to everyone I see.
But it does something dangerous to my heart that she does.
“Let’s get some ice cream.” She pulls me toward a vendor standing next to a big purple freezer case. “You’ve got a sweet tooth to indulge.”
I fake a grumble because it makes her laugh. We choose our flavors—banana for me, honey lavender for her—and slowly walk around the edge of the park. I keep an eye out for water assailants lying in wait, but the kids must have had their fun and left.
“Mmm.” The sound she makes over her ice cream could feature in any of my more creative daydreams. My stomach tightens as every sensible thought flies from my brain. “This is so good.”
She takes another bite, dragging the spoon from her mouth in a move so unintentionally sinful, I have to stifle a groan. I take slow breaths, willing myself not to make this weird. She’s just enjoying her ice cream. It has nothing to do with you. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t have an effect.
“We’ve talked about my exes,” she says out of nowhere. “What about yours? Anyone I should know about?”
Have to hand it to her. That’s one way to kill a vibe.
“My family’s not going to ask you about that.”
She keeps walking, eating her ice cream, but her mouth tugs down between bites. I want to kick myself. I’m being closed off for no reason. She’s been nothing but an open book with me, and while I suspect that’s her default, it still shows a level of trust I’m not mirroring back.
I’m not an open-book guy. But for her, I want to try.
“My last serious relationship didn’t end well,” I offer. “Brooke. This was before I took over the coffee shop.”
Rose nods, gently waiting for more. We cross into the shade of a pine tree, the sharp scent filling my lungs.
“I was still working seasonal park ranger jobs, going to different places every year. I’d be gone from April through September, only coming home for a week each season.
The first year, we made it work with a lot of phone calls and a few trips she took to see me.
The second year, most of my calls went to voicemail.
When I came back in the fall, it was over.
Had been for a while, I just didn’t know it.
She told me she liked me better when I wasn’t around. ”
Says a lot about me that the longest relationship I’ve had was when I was gone half the time. Says even more that she preferred it that way.
“Well, that’s just rude.” Rose’s sharp voice snaps me out of my pity party. “If she didn’t know the good thing she had with you, she was a dummy. I’m sorry, but someone had to say it.”
I exhale a laugh, mentally highlighting her calling a relationship with me a good thing.
“You’re a great guy, Reed. The best one. Far and away my favorite—” She swallows the end of that sentence down. “She didn’t deserve you, and I hope you haven’t wasted a minute of time feeling bad about her since.”
Rose’s heartfelt defense of me twists something behind my ribs. She’s an army of one, ready to charge into battle to protect me from lovers past. If I was in danger of falling for her before, the threat has fully overtaken me now.
“It wasn’t all her fault,” I say before I can stop myself. “I’m not the best at communicating. I probably put extra distance between us with all the things I didn’t say.”
I’ve never been skilled at the emotional side of things. Sharing mine or dealing with anyone else’s. Some part of me needs to be sure this sweet woman who leads with her heart knows it’s not my nature to do the same. I’m warning her against myself, like anyone who cared about her would do.
She loops her arm through mine again and smiles up at me. “That’s something else we can practice.”
I don’t know where she gets her optimism, but I hope she never runs out.
We throw away our trash and stroll the last of the trail around the park. Even though nobody’s around to see us together, she keeps hold of my arm. I could stay like this all day.
Actually, no. I’d want more.
“How did you come to own the coffee shop? Troy said he worked there before it changed hands. But it didn’t sound like you bought it so much as…had it given to you?”
“That’s about it.” I leave out the rest of what Harry gave me.
I don’t want to lie to Rose but telling her about his money can only complicate things.
My family doesn’t even know how much he left me.
I get heartburn when I think about it. “For reasons I can’t fathom, my friend bought it not long before he passed away.
And for even more mysterious reasons, he left it to me. ”
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Me, too. We were fishing buddies. He was seventy-six. Never married, no family of his own. He must have put my name on the line as a last resort.”
We had good times together on the river, and I valued his friendship. But leaving everything he had to me? I can’t make it make sense. Probably why it’s sitting in my account, mostly untouched after two years.
She runs a soothing hand over my biceps. “You were the only one he cared about enough to leave that kind of a gift to.”
A gift. I haven’t much thought of what Harry left me as a gift. Not with “Do better” tacked onto it. It’s an admonition. Just don’t know how to live up to it.
“What brought you to the coffee shop?” I ask. “I saw your resumé. You’ve had a lot tougher jobs than serving drinks.”
“Those jobs never really fit me. My last corporate job made me sick. My manager and his manager yelled at each other all the time. Everyone accepted it like it was a normal thing. But the more responsibility I got, the more stressed out I became that they’d turn those outbursts on me.
I started getting migraines. Eventually, I had to quit. ”
“You don’t get stressed at the coffee shop? It never gives you headaches?” Because it can for me. Trying and failing to live up to my friend’s edict, all while surrounded by a critical audience keeps me up some nights.
“Nope. I love it. Sometimes we get rude customers, but it’s rare enough it doesn’t get to me.
There’s enough routine in what we do that I can feel confident I know what I’m doing, but there’s variety to keep me happy.
And I love our regulars. I feel like I’m part of something positive in the community.
It’s the first time I’ve ever been this happy in a job. ”
Kind of hate the envy that curdles up inside me. I haven’t felt that way since I got the deed to the place.
Rose leads us to where she parked her car on a quiet residential street. I hand over her bag with the jars of honey in it, and she tucks it in the passenger seat.
“Just confirming again you said six for dinner,” she says, spinning back to face me. “I don’t want to be late for your family.”
“I’ll pick you up. If that’s fine.”
The thread of worry in her expression relaxes. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I should say goodbye and leave, but it’s getting harder and harder to walk away from her. We could stay on this tree-lined street a little longer. All day would work for me.
She steps closer, toe-to-toe with me now. “We still need to practice.”
Her voice is gentle, as if I’m her grouchy cat and one wrong word will scare me away. She really has no idea.
“Practice what?” I consider the many definitions of public displays of affection, and my stomach bottoms out.
“I think…” Her gaze dips to my mouth. “I think we should kiss. Just to be on the safe side for tonight.”
I would tell her my family isn’t going to force us together like Barbie dolls, but I don’t have complete certainty over that. And my brain’s short-circuiting too fast for me to voice that complex of a thought. All my neurons are firing over this new information.
Rose wants to kiss me.
“Only if you want to.” She licks her lips, then presses them together. I couldn’t look away from her mouth even if one of our dormant volcanoes erupted. “We don’t have to if you don’t.”
“I want to.” Self-preservation should at least make me hesitate, but I can’t. I’m running into a burning building, ready to embrace the flames.
Her gaze pops back up to mine. “Okay.”
Request and consent in place, I stop thinking and act on instinct. I sift my fingers into her hair, lightly cupping her face. Her breathing shallows as I lean in, and she rises up to meet me. Our mouths touch and press in the softest, gentlest kiss. Another. More.
I can’t deny this kiss any more than I can control my racing heart, but I’m determined to follow her lead.
I won’t take what I want from Rose, but I’ll give her anything she asks for.
She shifts closer, pressing her body to me, her arms looping around my neck.
Her lips part, and I think I stop breathing.
In an instant, I know I’ll never forget the taste of honey mixed with lavender on her tongue.
This might be the worst mistake I’ve made.
Certainly the most self-destructive one.
Heartache waits for me around the corner, and indulging in kissing Rose—learning the soft sounds she makes, the gentle touch of her mouth, the feel of her fingers scrabbling over my shoulders—will only heap on more pain in the end.
But I won’t stop until she does. Not when this might be the only chance I get.
Her hand splays over the back of my neck, her fingers brushing the hair at my nape upward. The sensation radiates heat down my spine. I can’t hold back a groan. She gasps in turn, drawing back enough to break the kiss.
I promised myself to let her lead, but it’s taking all my willpower not to reel her back in for more. Blood races through my veins, hot and insistent. Her wide blue eyes gaze up at me, pupils blown wide, lashes fluttering. Her breath fans over my face, warm and sweet.
“Okay.” Her breathy voice makes something in my throat constrict. She drags her hands down until they rest on my chest. She lifts one, patting me right over my thundering heart. “I, uh. I think we’re good.”
So do I. Better than good. The perfect fit. But I know that isn’t what she means. She means we don’t need to practice anymore.
She steps back, drawing out of my arms. My chest squeezes like something critical in there has shifted out of place with the loss of her.
Her shy smile peeks back out. “I’ll see you soon.”
She gets into her car, smoothing her hands through her hair a couple of times before she starts the engine. She pulls away from the curb, waving to me through the rear window. I lift a hand as her car drives off.
I heave a sigh, raking both hands through my hair. Nathan’s right. I’m fooling myself if I think my feelings aren’t involved.