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“I didn’t write the list, so how the hell would I know if I’m on it or not!”
“Hey, Dee, let it go. She’s with me.”
The voice is deep and rich, and my insides instantly melt as I turn and find Reed pacing toward me. He’s dressed in skinny black jeans and a dark gray sweater with the sleeves bunched up to his elbows. The look is totally him. He’s wearing black leather wristbands, and my eyes are instantly drawn to his hands. His fingers, in particular.
Oh, god.
Memories flood me with warm endorphins, and I have to shake my head and look away again before I make a complete fool of myself.
“There’s a list for a reason, Reed,” quips my new best friend, Dee. She glares at me when Reed slides his hand around my waist and edges me away from the table. I wonder what kind of history there is between the two of them. This chick is staring at me like she wants to kill me.
“I don’t think she’s on the list. It’s policy.”
“She’s supposed to be here, Dee. Go make coffee, or whatever it is you do here.”
“Screw you, Reed.”
Dee storms away with a dramatic huff, and there it is. The woman scorned. Unrequited desire. There’s nothing more painful. I should know.
I watch her skulk away and then I turn back to look up into the bluest set of eyes I’ve ever seen. “Thanks for saving me.”
He gives me a small smile. “You made it.”
“Yeah.Just.” I exhale slowly, trying to release some of the nervous tension that’s settled in my stomach.
Glancing around, I feel like I’m lost in a whirlwind of anticipation and anxiety. There are people everywhere and everyone seems to have a job to do.
“Come on, this way,” says Reed, leading me past a heap of sound equipment.
He’s still got his arm around my waist, and I resist the urge to melt into his side as he steers me across the crowded room toward the back of the warehouse.
It should be uncomfortable with the way he just fingered and fled the other night. It should be awkward. But Reed’s acting like himself, and apparently we’re just not talking about our sex-capades, or about me not moving ahead with any kind of formal lawsuit.
Denial is a happy place for him right now.
I can deal with that.
Music is being played through the overhead speakers, but it’s not Cold Neptune that’s playing. It’s just some random house music with a fast tempo, and I feel like running for the door because the enormity of this place is so not my scene.
“You doing okay?” he asks, leaning down closer.
“I’m nervous.”
“Nerves are a good thing, Tink. It means you give a shit.”
“Sure.” I smile softly.
I’m so happy he just called meTink. Maybe things with us will be alright after all.
“You sure you’re doing alright?” His fingers graze the small of my back as he drops his arm from my waist, and he gives me a lazy grin that does unmentionable things to my insides.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else, but Reed hears me and abruptly stops walking.
“You should have called me if you’re still feeling unwell.”
“No, I’m fine. I just really want to impress these people.”
He stares down at me for a few seconds and then I see his shoulders fall with obvious relief. “Oh, well, that’s okay. You’re going to kill it.”
