“I wonder what that was about?” I say, staring up at Troy again.
He scratches his hand down over his beard and shakes his head. “Not sure. Maybe something to do with the games?”
The man in front of us in line spins back to join our conversation, and the knot in my stomach is back.
It’s Clint!
Reed’s friend Clint!
The Clint whose lake houses I’m closing on tomorrow… hopefully.
He adjusts his hat as his eyes widen. “Nikki!” He glances toward Troy, then back down at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh,” I say, realizing my hand is still locked in Troy’s, and that I’m wearing his very oversized flannel. “I’m, ugh, entertaining a client.”
Bella smiles at her man as she notices our hands. “A client,” she says with judgment as she flips her long hair to the side. “That’s fun. What are you looking to buy up here?”
Troy nods slowly, his thumb brushing the back of my hand.
My heart pounds and I want to scream out that this isn’t what it looks like. Then again, I haven’t let go of his hand, and Troy is a nice guy. That, and if we did have a relationship and it didn’t work out, I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep for the next ten years like I would with Reed. I’ve decided that’s a new dating prerequisite for me.
“I’m looking at a boathouse tomorrow,” he says. “Hoping to close the deal quickly. I’d love to get the—”
“Reed’s boathouse?” Clint interjects.
“Yeah,” I say, my throat closing as the lovebirds study Troy and I like a pair of aliens from another planet.
“And you two are together now,” Bella asks, glancing down at our hands again, “or is this still part of entertaining a client?”
Okay, I understand that everyone is protective of their own and nosey as hell here… but damn!
Troy holds up our hands and grins. “Oh, fuck. I got excited about the burgers, grabbed her hand, and dragged her to the food counter. I didn’t mean to start any small-town drama.”
“Oh!” Bella grins with relief, and I wonder why. Maybe she knows Reed has a thing for me. Maybe everyone knew, but me. “That explains it! Roy’s burgers are the best in town. We never miss his booth when it’s up.” She leans forward and laughs. “My friends and I tried making a trip to his house one year when we were craving a double stack. The man let us in and cooked us alldinner. I’ll never forget it. Now I pay double every time I stop at his booth.”
“I love that about small-town life,” Troy says, his hand landing on the small of my back. “I’m excited to be up here again. I’ve got a place on the ocean in Florida. It’s nice but way too crowded for me.”
“I get that.” Clint smiles and crosses his arms over his chest as he speaks. “We’ll have to have you over, welcome you in properly.”
“Perfect. I’ll see if Roy doesn’t mind stopping by too.”
Everyone laughs, and the teenager taking orders calls for the next in line. Thankfully, Clint and Bella glance away quickly, and my nerves settle, though I’m sure my presence here with Troy will inevitably get back to Reed at some point, which makes my stomach hurt. Then again, he had to know I was going to be with him. I told him about the festival, and I told him I’d considered dating him to some degree, though after being pinned against the wall by Reed, Troy’s soft hands aren’t making the cut.
I have no idea why I love rubbing my fingertips over the edge of Reed’s calluses so much, but I do. So much so that I Googled it just to make sure nothing was wrong with me. Apparently, rough hands make our brains believe that a person can handle themselves in the world. They’re evidence of skill, of storytelling, a texture of a life lived.
I don’t know if I’m thinking all that when he’s touching me, or brushing against me, or when I’ve held his hand for comfort, but I know that they’re warm and solid, steady and anchoring, and a little scratchy, which I like the feeling of. Overall, though, I’d say it’s the rugged texture delivering soft intention that’s the real hook.
“Nikki,” Troy says, “are you okay? We need to order our food.”
Oh God! How long was I out in La-La land, thinking about Reed’s hands?
I blow out a breath and stare up at the chalk menu. It’s not long, and I’ve been here half a dozen times before, so I’m pretty sure I know what I’m having. “I’ll have a double stack with the fire-roasted corn… and a Coke. Oh, Troy, by the way, I’ll be getting this. I can expense everything out.”
“Not a chance.” Troy pushes my hand away as I try to give the teenage boy running the register my credit card. “Tonight is on me. I know I told those friends of yours that this wasn’t a date, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping it sort of was.”
My eyes widen, and though I’m flattered, and part of me thought a date with Troy would be nice too, I’m not in that headspace anymore. I’m not sure I ever will be again.
In reality, how do I go from being in love with a man I know is perfect for me to dating a guy who’s second best? That’s not fair to anyone, especially Troy. Then again, how will I ever move on from Reed if I don’t push to see the good in others?
