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“Show you what, Reid?”
He jerks his head slightly. “Come here.”
No.
That’s my first response.
You don't walk up to the thing that's going to continuously poke at you. No one with any sense is going to proceed forward through a patch of thorns and not expect to bleed.
“Do I need to run my wardrobe by you, too?”
I know I’m swerving away from what I think he might want me to do. He’s trying to see if I can walk up to a man and not cower away. If I’m capable of even having a relationship.
“No,” he replies. “I want to see how you react.”
“With what?”
Reid doesn’t bother answering my question. Instead, he eliminates the space between us and steeples over me like the Eiffel Tower.
My body breaks out in goosebumps, and I feel a small blanket of sweat forming along the edge of my forehead. I don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish here, but I won’t be unnerved by him. Reid probably gets his way all the time with women, and I wonder how much pushback he actually receives.
“You’re doing good,” he praises, and it’d be nice if he didn’t sound so unimpressed.
“I’ve been fully capable of standing since I was one,” I drawl. “Anything else?”
He reaches up toward my face, and I mindlessly take a step back. I don’t want to know what it feels like to have his skin on mine. I’m sure it’ll burn. That it will be something I can’t wipe off and I’ll feel for the whole car ride to New Brunswick.
“Is there something on my face?” I wipe my cheek, trying to play this whole scenario off as if he’s trying to help, but we both know he’s not.
Reid is attempting to prove a point that, even if Weston did make a move on me, I wouldn’t allow it to go that far.
But it’s him that I wouldn’t permit to go down that road. Weston and Reid are two different people. They are complete opposites in every way possible.
While Weston makes me nervous, in that besotted kinda way, Reid grinds my nerves and makes me want to stomp on his big foot.
“Nice try,” he muses with a cocky little smirk. “But you know, as well as I do, that your boy toy is going to want more than to just touch your face.”
A furious blush blankets over said face, and I went from calm fifteen minutes ago, alone in my room while watching a murder documentary on a news reporter, to outright furious at a man who was never supposed to see the inside of my bedroom.
“You’re absolutely irritating, Reid Pierce. No wonder you’re single.”
A mirthless chuckle rumbles deliciously off his chest, and it brushes up against my body in an involuntary shiver that I’m barely able to shake off.
“You’re right,” he admits instantly. “I just didn’t think touching your face was going to make you freak out.”
“I’m not freaking out,” I rebuke. “I just don’t like random men touching me.”
Reid regards me for a split second before nodding his head. “Like I said, you’re a smart woman. Not sure why you’d set your sights on him.”
“Maybe because he doesn’t deem me incapable of being a grown woman.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“Yes, you have,” I carp back. “You think I’m a bookworm with no game and can’t handle any male interaction at all.”
“You argue with me just fine.”
I tsk. “You act as though that’s hard.”
