Chapter 3
I’m downstairs.
Reggie’s text is brief, and the anticipation that’s been vibrating through me all day intensifies. I shove my phone into my purse and take a last look in the mirror. My fingers tremble slightly as they trace down the lines of my emerald dress, the fabric clinging and releasing with every slight movement. I know my parents expect me to dress nicely for our dinner tonight, but tonight, I’m dressed to impress Reggie.
I take a deep breath and lock my door. Right now, I’m pretty sure I’m more nervous about spending the evening with Reggie instead of being nervous about dinner with my parents. I don’t see my parents all too often these days, mostly because it’s always the same conversations about how I’m not living up to their expectations.
But tonight? Tonight, I’ll have Reggie by my side. That alone will make the night easier, and getting to spend time with him away from King Tap already makes this a special night.
When I get to the street, I forget to breathe. He’s parked his truck right outside my building, and he’s standing next to the passenger door, looking so hot my voice catches in my throat.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“Hey yourself,” he replies, and the warmth of his smile makes my heart flutter.
“Ready?” he asks, his tone suggesting simplicity, but there’s nothing simple about this evening. Nothing simple about the way I feel when he looks at me. He makes me feel like there’s no one else in the world but the two of us.
“I think so,” I answer, clutching my purse. There are a lot of things about tonight I’m unsure of, but somehow, Reggie is not one of them. While I don’t quite understand what or how he feels about me, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is here for me.
His eyes skim over me, taking in my outfit, and my heart skips a beat when I see him bite his lip as he looks at me.
“Wow, you—” He clears his throat. “You look beautiful, Marian.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks flush with heat, and it’s not just the compliment. It’s Reggie being here, looking at me like I’m the only person who matters in his world. He reaches out, offering his hand, and I take it, liking the feel of his strength. He helps me into the truck like a true gentleman.
“You clean up pretty nice, too,” I admit, my cheeks heating from a blush. He’s wearing a pair of navy slacks and a white dress shirt that makes him look anything other than a guy living on the mountain.
The door closes with a solid thunk, sealing us inside the quiet cocoon of the vehicle. Reggie’s presence fills the space, his clean, woodsy scent mingling with the leather interior.
As we pull away from the curb, I catch a glimpse of myself in the side mirror. Tonight isn’t just about impressing my parents or proving them wrong about Reggie. It’s about the flutter in my stomach when he looks at me, about the electric tension that’s been building between us for years. This relationship may be fake, but oh boy, do I wish it was real.
“Here we are,” Reggie says, pulling into the restaurant parking lot. The headlights sweep over the fancy facade of Ciao, Bella!
“Thanks for doing this.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, my palms starting to sweat. “I know it can’t be easy.”
“Hey,” he reaches over and gives my hand a quick squeeze, his touch steady and sure. “There’s nothing hard about spending time with you. Relax, we got this.”
The way Reggie says ‘we’ gives me strength and comfort. Reggie comes around and offers his arm as I lower myself from his truck. The gesture is so smooth and natural that it feels like we’ve done it a thousand nights before.
As we approach the entrance, the golden light pouring through the windows seems to mock the tightness in my chest. “Ready?” I ask him, but it’s me who needs the reassurance.
“Always,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that steadies my racing heart.
We enter together, the scent of garlic and herbs enveloping us. It’s cozy inside, intimate, with soft music threading through the chatter of diners. I scan the room until I see my parents—Mom with her perfectly coiffed hair, Dad already perusing the menu, his reading glasses perched on his nose.
“Deep breath,” Reggie murmurs, and I follow his advice, filling my lungs with the garlic-scented air of the restaurant.
“Mom, Dad,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. Their heads turn, and instantly, Mom’s scrutinizing gaze takes me in from head to toe, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Her eyes linger on my hips, and I pray she doesn’t lecture me about my weight in front of Reggie.
“Marian,” she greets, her tone cool. The one syllable tells me everything I need to know about what she thinks of this evening.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hanley,” Reggie offers with a respectful nod, and I can’t help but admire the ease with which he handles the moment, how the clear disapproval of my parents doesn’t faze him.
“Reggie,” Dad acknowledges, his voice neutral but his eyes sharp and assessing.
I slip into the chair beside Reggie, drawing strength from him. His knee brushes against mine under the table, and that touch ignites flames of desire in my core. How am I supposed to have dinner with my parents when all I want to do is take Reggie home and fall into bed with him?
“So, Reggie,” Dad’s voice cuts through the low hum of restaurant chatter, sharp as a scalpel. “What exactly is it that you do for work?”
My heart lurches into my throat, but I manage to keep my voice steady. “Dad, Reggie has a good job up on King Mountain. He’s not some deadbeat.”
“Marian,” Dad says, his tone firm with warning. I’m startled at how quickly I leap to Reggie’s defense, a fierce protectiveness rising within me.
Reggie’s hand finds mine under the table, and he laces his fingers through mine. I glance at him, his beard framing a reassuring smile as he meets my father’s gaze with unwavering calm.
“It’s okay, Marian,” Reggie says, his hand finding mine under the table. He laces his fingers through mine, and some of my tension melts away. Turning to my dad, he continues, “I work in security and technology, which is what I did in the Army.”
Dad’s brow furrows, skepticism threading through his tone. “What kind of…security is needed on a mountain?”
“More than you’d realize, sir. A lot of the work is confidential. Though I can share this: I’m part of a team that takes care of the mountain. We own and manage a few rental cabins and keep an eye on the people who rent them. We’re also a point of contact if a hiker gets lost or injured. We can send up a drone, which often helps us to locate an injured person faster than sending out a tracking team.”
Reggie brushes his thumb against the back of my hand, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Interesting,” Dad murmurs, leaning back in his chair, his critical eye lingering on Reggie. “Confidential projects?” Dad’s voice is a mix of suspicion. His eyes narrow just a fraction.
“Nature of the work,” Reggie replies with a nonchalant shrug.
“Must keep you busy then,” Dad concedes, his tone easing into something that might pass for grudging respect.
“Indeed, it does.” Reggie offers a small smile, and I feel the tension at our table dissipate.
A realization hits me like a summer storm—my feelings for Reggie have deepened beyond the simple crush I’ve nursed for so long. It’s not just his looks or his flirtatious banter at the bar anymore. In this moment, I see the man he truly is: resilient, honorable, and unexpectedly tender. Not to mention, watching him hold his ground with my father is unspeakably hot. My dad is used to getting what he wants and steamrolling people in the process, but Reggie meets my dad’s challenges and handles them with confidence and without getting flustered.
“Sounds like you lead an interesting life, Reggie,” Mom says, one eyebrow arched ever so slightly.
“It’s better than the alternative,” he chuckles, and the tension at our table dissipates as my parents find this amusing and laugh as well.
As the laughter subsides, I look at Reggie and squeeze his fingers. I’ve always liked him, but my respect for him is increasing dramatically. He’s always been so reticent with me that I didn’t realize he had this side to him. I like it.
“Shall we order?” Dad claps his hands together, signaling an end to the interrogation.
“Let’s,” Reggie agrees, releasing my hand to pick up the menu.
And as he lets go, the absence of his touch is a physical loss. Desire flares within me, bright and demanding attention. I want more.