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Because Kenzi was closing in on me, perfectly groomed brow raised, chin set to stubborn.
She wasn't going to give in until she got all the dirty details.
I had some serious explaining to do.EIGHTCyrusI was pretty sure it wasn't just me and my ego.
That shit was weird.
I mean, it had only been a month. Reese couldn't have changed that much in that short a timeframe, right?
But one moment, she had been tearing up, and melting in my arms, the next she was stiff as a board, and coming up with some bullshit excuse?
I wouldn't go as far as to claim she outright lied to me, but I was pretty sure she wasn't giving me the full truth either.
Why?
Yeah, that was the question.
It would have made sense if she shot me down as a whole, if she took the money, and threw it in my face, if she told me I could take my friendship and shove it up my ass.
But, you know, in Reese words. Meaning cut out the profanity, and add in some cute as fuck stammering.
She didn't do that, though.
But she did confront me.
That wasn't something I even knew was in her wheelhouse. Somehow, though, I was proud of her being able to demand a genuine apology, to stand her ground. It was a step in the right direction for her. I couldn't help but wonder what brought it on.
Then after she confronted me, she let me hug her. And I'd swear to fuck, the second her body pressed into mine, I could feel the change in her. She softened; she snuggled closer. I was certain I actually felt her nipples harden and press into my chest. Then again, maybe that was wishful thinking.
But something changed while she was in my arms.
She got tense.
She pulled away.
Then made some bullshit excuse to put off coffee.
The thing was... why?
It would have made sense if she simply turned me down flat, not rescheduled.
Fuck.
I was probably just overthinking it. Maybe she just did have plans.
I would weasel it out of her over ice cream.
"Whose car is that?" I asked as I made my way toward the door to the compound, jerking my chin toward the sleek silver Jag parked on the street right out front in a decidedly 'no parking' zone that none of us even fucked with. Didn't want the attention of the law over a parking ticket.
"Summer's dad is here," Reeve explained, shrugging.
Richard Lyon hardly ever stepped foot near The Henchmen compound, despite his only daughter being married to the president of it.
It was simply bad business, he'd once explained.
It was one thing to be related by marriage, to see his daughter and her children on more mutual turf. It was another, I imagined, to be seen on Reign's turf.
It could fuck with business.
Anything could cause problems, I would assume, when you were a big-time cocaine dealer.
"So, did she forgive you?" Reeve asked, not usually one for small talk.
"Fucking Wasp," I sighed, leaning up against the wall beside him. She was never one for keeping secrets between the two of us. If she knew, Reeve always did. And if she knew something about Reeve, I always knew. The only one who didn't get told was our mother.
Small miracle.
"She said you got it bad for the coffeeshop girl."
I exhaled hard, looking off at the street.
Did I?
I was pretty sure I did.
I just didn't get the chance to tell her that yet.
That was the point of coffee.
Coffee that would maybe lead to a ride on my bike.
Back to her place.
Not to fuck her, though.
No.
See, the guys may have been ribbing me, but they were actually right about one thing. I was going to be using my long game on Reese.
Fact of the matter was, I was pretty sure she hadn't been with a man in a good, long while. So I didn't want to rush her into anything. I wanted to go at her pace. If that meant I didn't so much as get to kiss her for another five weeks, I was fine with that.
Hell, I hadn't been with a woman since the night I met her at She's Bean Around.
I could hold off a while longer.
For her.
She'd be more than fucking worth it.
I had a feeling that buried under the reserved surface, she was wild, insatiable, hotter than anyone I had ever touched. Times about a thousand.
"Enough to finally use the money," I agreed.
See, Pops always knew his line of work would end him in a grave likely before all of us turned of-age. As such, he had prepared. Even our mother had no idea it was coming until Reeve turned eighteen, and he got his envelope in the mail. Then a couple years later, I got mine. Then, a few after me, Wasp got hers.
One-hundred grand each.
Reeve, as far as I knew, had most of his money still. He dipped in when his truck needed fixing back before we joined The Henchmen, but hadn't seemed to spend any more.
