Page 1 of Reaching Gavin

Chapter One

Seattle,Washington was a veritable minefield of ex-boyfriends. Turn a corner. Step out of a building. Grab a quick bite to eat. And boom!

I had found myself face-to-face with three already, and I hadn’t even finished the first day of my internship. I was beginning to wonder if the university had started a male consignment program, loaning out every eligible bachelor on campus to the greater metropolitan area. Not that all of them were still eligible—and none of them were available, according to my standards.

My day started with running into Luka, a.k.a. Mr. Freshman Year, while trying to pay for parking. As if paying twenty-five dollars for the privilege to leave my car wasn’t bad enough, the machine wouldn’t take my card. When the man behind me kept persistently clearing his throat, I’d finally lost my cool and spun around. “Do you need a cough drop, jacka…?”

The words died on my lips when I saw those familiar blue eyes. I’d peered into them enough a few years back to have each fleck in his irises memorized. If only I’d bothered to look a little deeper. That had been hard given his off-the-charts hotness. I’d been taken in by his unruly blond hair and square jaw. The two hours a day he spent in the gym hadn’t hurt either. Not initially. It probably should have clued me in that he was a Grade A narcissist.

“Cassie?” He sounded as surprised as I felt, which was a much-needed boost to my confidence. Maybe he hadn’t expected to run into anyone he knew, or maybe—just maybe—I’d come a long way from the nineteen-year-old girl he’d known. I’d traded in my yoga pants and Uggs for Jimmy Choos and pencil skirts. I was well past my basic bitch stage. Now, I was a badass bitch.

“The machine is broken.” As far as I was concerned that was the only explanation. I’d tried for five minutes to get it to accept payment.

“Let me try.” Luka’s lips quirked into the arrogant smirk I’d once found so charming. Back then it had won him an all-access pass to my panties. Now, I fought the urge to slap him. Did he not recognize my new status as a badass bitch?

Obviously not, because he swiped the Visa from my hand. Stepping forward, he flipped it over and swiped it. The payment processed instantly.

Life must be easier for the really, truly stupid. They probably weren’t aware when they did something really, truly idiotic. Though I was not really, truly stupid, I was now very well-aware that I’d done something really, truly idiotic.

A string of curses slipped from my mouth that would have made a sailor blush.

He handed the card back to me. My parking spot was secured, but my dignity was in shambles.

“Thanks.” I stuffed the card in my purse and avoided eye contact. Why couldn’t it have been a stranger behind me? A soccer mom or a wizened old executive? Someone who wouldn’t have noticed I didn’t know how to use a credit card machine.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, as he punched in the number of his parking spot and paid for it.

“Internship,” I bit out, eyeing the exit. “Actually, I need to go or I’ll be late.”

He pocketed his receipt. Turning to face me, his eyes swept over my body, paying extra attention to my chest. “We should hang out sometime. God, you haven’t changed a bit.”

I couldn’t stop myself. If Luka didn’t think I’d changed, he had another thing coming. “Me or my tits?” I spat. “It’s you who haven’t changed.” I didn’t wait to see if I’d wiped the smug grin off his face. I was out of the parking garage instantly.

Yes, I still had the same body—thanks to five hours a week at the gym. But equating me with my breasts was exactly why my relationship with Luka hadn’t worked out. His attention didn’t extend postcoitus. I’d wanted a commitment and all he could offer was orgasms. That had been enough for a while. But when the eyes that wandered over my body started to wander in other directions, I’d kicked him to the curb.

I made a mental note to park in another—less convenient—parking garage and moved on with my life.

The trouble was that my life was following the cues of a Dickens novel, complete with the ghosts of boyfriends past. When I popped into the coffee shop on the corner, the brown eyes accompanying the barista were all too familiar. It was Mr. Nice Guy himself. Danny lit up when he saw me, which made me feel two inches tall despite my five-inch heels. He was the definition of a nice guy. Too nice. We’d dated after a string of bad decisions and a tequila-induced vow to give up bad boys.

He was writing my name on a cup before I could back out the door I’d just entered.

“On the house!” he called cheerfully, starting to make my drink without waiting for my order. Danny remembered how I took my coffee. Because Danny was an honest-to-god, good person—and I was dirt.

“Are you sure?” I asked, shifting back and forth on my heels. If he let me pay for it, I would have something to do besides stare at his angelic face beaming back at me. It’s important to note that Danny was smoking hot in a sorta boy-next-door way. Even in the requisite Sound Coffee t-shirt he wore, his muscular upper body was on display—a body he’d gotten from rock-climbing, biking, and volunteering at the local animal shelter. As he finished up my drink, a thick lock of brown hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it behind his ear. I’d seen him do it a million times. In a way, it was comforting. And therein lied the problem with Danny. He was comfortable and safe. Everything I had thought I wanted.

No matter how hard I’d tried—and we’d dated for months—it had been like kissing my brother. We’d never even made it past second base. I’d broken up with him over text because ending it to his face would have been worse than kicking a puppy.

Naturally, he’d taken it well and judging from the genuine happiness radiating from him, I hadn’t done any long-term damage. So why did I still feel so awful?

“How are you?” he asked as he slid a cardboard sleeve over my cup.

“Good.” I accepted the free drink. After all, it was a big day. A free drink was like a little karmic good luck charm. Maybe I hadn’t been so terrible to Danny after all. Maybe I wasn’t a garbage person. Maybe I was being given the chance to see how much I’d changed. “How are you?”

I took a tentative sip of the drink he’d handed me. Three shots of espresso, skim milk, and the tiniest pump of mocha. It was exactly how I liked it.

“Great.” He leaned forward so we could talk over the clatter of the coffee shop. “I’ve been working here since my dad died. I’m trying to save up tuition for one more year, so my mom doesn’t have to help me with a student loan.”

The coffee turned to ash in my mouth and I nearly dropped the cup. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Danny. I hadn’t heard!”