It was. Reed had picked it up off eBay for four hundred bucks. A quality rack could easily run into the thousands, and he’d had to stretch to cover all the costs as it was. The most difficult hurdle to clear had been the first month’s rent. The landlord had wanted ten grand a month, but Reed had been able to talk him down to six—an amount he’d covered with part of Lacey’s twenty-thousand-dollar “franchise deposit”. The rest of the bogus franchise fee—$180,000—was due today.
“Don’t worry,” Reed said. “It’s temporary. The new squat racks take a month or so to fabricate, but they’ll be here soon. I just wanted to make sure we had one on hand in case the rest don’t arrive before we open.”
He suppressed a grin.We.Like he’d be here cutting the ribbon with her instead of lying on some beach in Mexico, shit-faced instead.
She neared and slipped into his arms and draped her hands around his neck. She smelled like lemon and sugar. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I ask myself the same question about you all the time.”
“I love you, you know.”
Reed smiled. “I love you, too.”
She leaned in and pressed her lips against his. They remained there, locked in the embrace until she took his hand and led him toward the windowless fitness studio in the back, her hips swaying.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Without answering, she entered the room and slipped out of her top and slid off her leggings. When she turned to face him, she was naked.
“Wow,” he whispered. She was absolute perfection.
Lacey stepped closer and set a finger on his chest, then pulled it lower toward his belt. “I think you’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”
Reed nodded. He had. This was the one thing he had yet to take from her. It made him feel bad for a second. But not bad enough to stop.
Chapter 35
BAILEY
“Not bad,” Zane says, appraising me from across the table. “You clean up well, Ms. Carter.”
I feel my lips curl higher in response.
“Thank you.”
Coming from another man, I might take the statement as flirtatious. Coming from Zane, it’s nothing more than a fact. My transformation has taken six months and several procedures to achieve. My eyelids are wider and brighter as a result, the skin beneath my eyes fresh and firm, the bags gone. Thanks to the laser depigmentation, my irises are no longer a deep hazel brown, but rather a stunning light green. My nose looks better too, the tip contoured and the bump in the bridge smoothed in a way that brings more harmony to my profile. My entire face has a certain vitality I didn’t realize was missing until now.
I’ve never been a fan of plastic surgery—hadn’t given it much thought before all of this, really—but now I understand why people pursue it. The results are stunning. When I gaze in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman looking back at me—especially after dyeing my hair. My mop of dirty blonde has blossomed into a lush mane of red. Unlike my eyes, the color change isn’t permanent. I’ll have to keep afterit. But I can manage that. Even if Reed catches on, it won’t be a big deal. Lots of women dye their hair.
Zane takes a swig of his beer. “Are you ready for this?”
“I think so,” I say.
He frowns. “That’s not good enough.”
“Fine,” I say, smacking my vodka tonic against the table. “Put me in, coach. I’ve never been more ready.”
It’s true. My change isn’t just a physical one. Over the last six months I’ve felt myself coming back to life little by little. With each passing day, I’ve sensed my resolve going stronger. I’ll admit I was on shaky ground at first—especially after paying Zane the initial five-hundred grand we’d agreed on. I’d constantly questioned how I’d come up with the rest of the money. But I’ve never questioned my decision to go after Reed. In fact, my conviction to crucify him has only grown stronger. Lately, I’ve even managed to log eight hours of sleep for a few nights in a row instead of waking in a panic from my usual sweat-drenched nightmare. So yes, I’m ready. In a way, it feels like I have a new lease on life.
Zane tilts his bottle and clinks the neck against my glass. “Much better.”
We’re heading to Durango, Colorado tomorrow, Reed’s adopted hometown, and Zane suggested we grab a quick drink and review the last few details of the plan. That, and we both need a break from all the preparation. I’ve been living as Avery Carter for nearly half a year now. I’ve memorized every detail of her life.
Born in Sioux City, Iowa to a single mother, Avery had a decent upbringing. She and her mom bounced around the Midwest until settling in Des Moines, where Avery played soccer for several years at North Polk High School. She wasn’t exactly a star, but good enough to think about a scholarship or two before a knee injury sidelined her. A few years at the University of Kansas followed, until a fatal car accident took that away too—Avery the one behind the wheel.
She spent a year behind bars. Then two years of probation, Avery off to a local community college to finish her finance degree after that. Some hard years from there: Her mother’s cancer. A funeral. A long stretch spent moving around the country, chasing work, before finally settling in Durango where—
Oh, hello, there.
