Chapter 11 Ever #2
Shiloh pulls out a chair and nudges her down into it. “Caught her wanderin’ around lookin’ for an exit.”
“I wasn’t—” Reva snaps, then stops, jaw tight. “This place is huge. It’s pretty damn easy to get lost.”
“Mm,” Shiloh says, like he finds that adorable. “Eat.”
Reva looks at the beignets with suspicion.
“What is this place?” she asks again.
“Our house,” Shiloh says. He places a mug of coffee in front of her and she takes a hesitant sip, eyebrows lifting when the chicory flavor hits. “Blackwood House.”
“Mmm—” She glances toward the windows, toward the yard beyond, dappled with green and moss and sunlight. The glint of the bayou in the distance. With careful fingers, she pinches a beignet and lifts it to her lips. “This is…a freaking plantation.”
“It’s a house,” I say, gaze riveted on the powdered sugar left on her lips.
Reva barely manages to stop a moan as she chews. “This is…this is…really good. And no…this is like a Scarlett O’Hara freaking plantation house.”
Shiloh laughs. “She ain’t wrong.”
He reaches out, the asshole, and uses his thumb to wipe a bit of powdered sugar from Reva’s lip. She jerks back, licking her lip, then swiping it with her own thumb.
Her gaze returns to me, skeptical. “This just isn’t really your vibe, you know.”
I take a slow sip of coffee. “It’s belonged to Nash’s family for generations.”
“Nash,” Reva repeats, testing the name. “Who’s Nash?”
Shiloh’s grin turns sharp. “Our friend. Partner.”
“Part owner of Noir,” I add.
Her eyes narrow. “So Nash is my boss?”
“Might as well be,” Shiloh says. “If we decide to let you keep workin’. He doesn’t usually concern himself with staff matters, but he might with you.”
Reva rolls her eyes like she’s trying not to react to the word decide.
She looks out the window again. The lawn rolls out toward a line of trees. Spanish moss hangs in slow drapes. The water of the bayou on the edge of the property shines dully.
“They don’t have stuff like this in Chicago,” she murmurs, and the softness in her voice is real enough it almost surprises me.
Then she turns back, chin lifting again. “Can I go for a walk?”
Shiloh and I exchange a look. It’s not about alligators. Not really. It’s about space. Exits. Distance. Control.
“She’s not leavin’ the property,” Shiloh says over her head.
“I didn’t ask to leave the property,” Reva snaps. “I said I wanted a walk.”
I stand. “I’ll go with you.”
Shiloh’s eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t argue. He just leans back in his chair, watching like he’s waiting to see what comes next in this grand battle of wills.
Reva looks like she wants to say no out of spite. The walk wins out.
“Fine,” she spits.
We step outside, using the back door off the kitchen.
Heat wraps around us immediately, humid and thick. The air smells like green things and old water. Insects buzz. Gravel from the manicured pathways crunches under our feet as we walk away from the house.
Reva keeps her arms crossed tight over her chest.
She’s barefoot. That shouldn’t matter.
It does. I keep catching myself looking at her feet, narrow and fine-boned, with bright pink polish on the toes. It’s an incongruity that both annoys and conversely fascinates me.
Her posture eases the farther we get from the porch, as if the open space gives her permission to breathe.
“You can get eaten by an alligator if you wander too close to the water,” I say.
She shoots me a look. “Is that a joke?”
“Wander too close and find out.”
Her mouth tightens, then she huffs a short laugh. The sound is small. Real. I file it away, to have it for future reference.
So I’ll know when something’s not real.
We walk in silence for a minute, and I watch her in my peripheral vision the way I watched her at the bar—except now there’s no crowd to hide in.
No noise to swallow mistakes. Just her and the wind and my own thoughts, which are worse.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says finally.
“Do what?”
“Save me.”
I keep my eyes on the path. “I didn’t save you. I interrupted a disaster in progress.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s not,” I say.
Reva’s fingers pluck at the three rubber bands on her wrist. She did it in the bar, too; clearly it’s some kind of nervous habit. Not the controlled kind. The unconscious kind.
It does something to me I don’t like, especially the red marks they leave on her skin. I reach over and cup her hand, stilling the motion, shaking my head when she looks at me in question.
I want to tell her she shouldn’t be alone. That she shouldn’t sleep in cars. That she shouldn’t be so soft with her own safety.
But soft isn’t the right word. She’s not soft. She’s…unguarded in all the wrong ways. That’s worse.
“Why are you here?” I ask, and the question comes out too blunt.
Reva’s head snaps toward me. Her eyes go hard. “For a job.”
“No.”
Her lips part, angry. “Excuse me?”
I stop walking and face her. “You’re not here for a job.”
Her throat works. She holds my stare like a dare.
I can see the fight in her, but I can also see the exhaustion under it. The fraying edge. Like she’s running on anger and willpower and very little else.
Shiloh was right. She’s a puzzle, and puzzles can get you killed if you underestimate them.
Reva’s voice drops. “You don’t know anything about me.”
I take a step closer before I think better of it. “I know enough to know you’re lying about almost everything you’ve said since you got here.”
She doesn’t flinch. She should.
I should step back. I don’t.
For one long, heated second, I can feel the pull of her—something hot and unwanted, like touching a live wire you shouldn’t be anywhere near.
We linger in a suspended beat, our bodies barely an inch apart, breaths intermingling.
She’s so close I can see the pale ribbon of gold in the deeper brown of her eyes, like a starburst around her irises.
Then I force myself to turn away.
“Get ready for work,” I say, sharp. “We leave in twenty.”
Reva’s stare is a tangible sensation on my back, like she wants to throw something at it. I keep walking, refusing to turn and look at her.
Because if I stay one second longer, I’ll do something stupid.
I can’t be attracted to her. And even if I am, I can’t do anything about it. Shiloh’s already in too deep, ignoring all the red flags and warning signs.
It just won’t work.
I have to be the rational one if no one else is gonna do it.