That Secret Crush Page 11

  “Nice. Got you all liquored up.”

  “That’s what I thought, but I never really felt drunk. And the dancing, Avery, we’re not talking about ballroom stuff; he was grinding up on me, and it was so freaking hot.”

  “Oh God, was he hard?”

  “Yup.”

  “Ah! Then what happened?”

  “I brought him back to my place because the roads were impossible to drive on. He came back, and well, I might have taken my shirt off.”

  “You hussy. I love it. So obviously you’ve had sex. Are the rumors true about Reid’s assets?”

  I knew she was going to ask. It’s why I love Avery so much: she has no filter. “Let’s just say he lives up to the legend.”

  “Oh damn. I’m fanning my face right now. Of course he lives up to it. The Knightlys are their own breed of man.” I can’t disagree with that. “So, this is kind of amazing. Are you giddy?”

  “Maybe a little,” I answer honestly. “He’s just—God, Avery, he’s the same guy who’s always teasing me, but there is this other side of him, this relationship Reid, that makes me absolutely swoon.”

  “Aw, I’m so happy for you. Not at all jealous. Not even the slightest. No jealousy whatsoever.”

  “You’re a little jealous.”

  She exhales. “It’s Reid freaking Knightly. God, he’s so sexy.” He is, especially with all his clothes off. “All right,” she says. “We need to change the subject before I turn green. How’s school?”

  “I’m in my last semester, and I just got done with midterms, which I aced, so I’m going to celebrate with some fudge.”

  “That’s my girl. Last semester? I’m so proud of you. You impress me, Eve.”

  “Stop it—I should have gotten this degree years ago.”

  “But instead you chose to let your brother pursue his dreams while you worked at the Inn, took care of your mom and dad day in and day out, and studied every waking moment while taking online courses.”

  Though I barely even admit it to myself, Avery’s right. My life is incredibly hard and time consuming, but it’s worth every second I committed to my parents and to my studies. Back when I was taking care of my mom and dad, there were times when a few people from town would lend a hand, especially the Knightlys, but for the most part, I was on my own, keeping them company, making sure they were comfortable, showing that they were loved and appreciated.

  “You are impressive,” she continues. “And don’t try to tell me otherwise. This is huge, and I couldn’t be more proud.”

  “Thank you, Avery. It means a lot to me.” I arrive at the entrance to the Lobster Landing and step to the side, near the giant lobster bench. “But hey, I should get going; the fudge is calling.”

  “Get the walnut!”

  “As if there’s any other kind. I promise not to go another week without talking to you.”

  “You’d better not. Love you, girl.”

  “Love you too.” I hang up and take out my earbuds. I stick them in my purse along with my phone and open the door to the Lobster Landing, where I’m immediately greeted by the delicious smell of baked goods and fudge. There’s a private door for locals in the back, where you can buy what you want and skip the crowds, but since it isn’t tourist season, I take the opportunity to use the main door and take in the view.

  The Lobster Landing is split into two sections—one is devoted to food, with a small bar and old-fashioned cash register, and the other is the souvenir side, where the Knightlys sell Port Snow–themed apparel and the kinds of lobster goodies that anyone visiting Maine would want to get their hands on. One thing I love about the store is that none of their stuff is cheap crap that people end up throwing out the second they get home. They sell quality items like oven mitts, T-shirts, hats, and wooden lobster spoons. They also have blueberry-flavored everything in the back. Pancake mixes, syrup, bread . . . beer. It’s a blueberry paradise. Avery always asks for blueberry-flavored white-chocolate-covered pretzels for her birthday, and it’s become our tradition that I send them to her every year.

  No one is at the fudge counter, so I make my way there first, taking a moment to peruse the multitude of flavors. I play with the idea of going with something new, but in the end, I always end up with walnut.

  “Eve, how nice to see you,” Jen says, stepping up to the counter. There is a huge smile on her face, and I know exactly why.

  “Go ahead, get it out of your system.”

  Flying around the counter, Jen rushes toward me with her arms held out. In three seconds flat, she has me wrapped up in a giant hug and is squeezing every last ounce of air out of me. “Oh my gosh, I can’t even contain how excited I am that you and—”

  “Shhhh,” I say before she can say Reid’s name. “It’s not public knowledge.”

  “Oh.” She laughs. “Sorry. I’m just so excited.” She pulls away and cups my cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re going to be my sister-in-law.”

  “Whoa.” I pull her hands down. “It’s been a little over a week. Let’s cool your tits for a second, Jen.”

  “Please.” She waves a hand in front of her face. “You two have been meant to be since you were ten years old. I just can’t believe it’s finally happening. I think we need to celebrate.”

  I hold up my hand. “Please don’t. I beg of you. No Knightly party. He’s a little skittish as it is. I think a party would throw him.”

  “Reid, skittish? Are you kidding me? That boy has been floating around the store today. Yes, floating. He’s in such a good mood it’s throwing us all off.”

  “He’s here?”

  In that moment, two strong arms wrap around my waist, and a familiar pair of lips presses against my cheek.

  I sink into his touch even though warning bells are going off in my head, reminding me that we’re in public, where anyone can see us.

  “Yes, I’m here.” Reid’s deep voice sends a chill right down my spine as he spins me around to face him. “What are you doing at the Landing? Looking for some eye candy?”

  Reaching up, I quickly run my hand up his scruffy jaw and then pull away, remembering where we are. “Just getting some fudge.”

  He doesn’t let me get far because he pulls me in close again and tips my chin up. He presses the softest of kisses against my lips, and I swear I melt right there on the spot.

  So much for being able to keep this a secret.

  “Oh my God, you two. I can’t even.” We both turn to face Jen, who has her hand clutched to her chest, the other pressed against the fudge counter. “The cuteness is overwhelming.”

  I push Reid away, but he treats me like a yo-yo and pulls me right back in, grinning.

  “What happened to keeping this a secret?” I whisper as he presses another kiss to my temple.

  He groans. “Fuck, I forgot.” He glances behind us, but the shop is pretty desolate—a rarity I’m grateful for. “Coast is clear; let’s make out.”

  “Stop it.” I push at his chest, putting a good two feet between us.

  “You have to watch out for that one.” Jen points to her brother. “He’s horny. As a teenager he would never leave his room; it was—”

  “Can we not? Christ, Jen.”

  I grin. “Your teenage years are no secret to anyone, Reid. Sorry to say, but your one-handed escapades are public knowledge at this point.”

  “Fantastic,” he says.

  “I want to say it’s sweet, but I mean . . . it’s really not.” I laugh, which only makes Reid roll his eyes.

  “So, you want fudge.” Smart man that he is, Reid quickly changes the subject and leads me over to the fudge counter before stepping behind it. “Since I know you’re not an avid fudge eater and only buy some when you’re celebrating—what’s the occasion?”

  I haven’t really told anyone except for Avery about my classes. After staying back in Port Snow to help my parents, I realized quickly not to overshare, especially not with anyone in town. When I started going back to school, I wasn’t even sure ho
w far I’d make it, and the last thing I wanted was to become the town’s resident failure—the girl who tried but never earned a degree. So I kept it a secret, only letting Avery and Eric know.

  It’s a big deal, though—I know it is—and I’m so close to actually having a degree. So do I mention it to Reid? Technically he’s my boyfriend, and this is something I would tell him, something I should be proud to tell him.

  But for some stupid reason, I’m nervous.

  I glide my finger over the fudge counter’s smooth top. “Uh, just celebrating midterms.”

  “Midterms.” When I glance up at him, there’s a crease in his brow. “Like college midterms?”

  I bite the side of my cheek and nod.

  “You’re going to college?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “I’ve been taking online classes.” Jen apparently has no problem listening in on our conversation because she leans against the wall, turning her head back and forth between Reid and me.

  “Since when?”

  “For a while now, about seven years. I’m in my last semester, actually.”

  “Seriously?” Reid adjusts his signature Lobster Landing ball cap. “Shit, Eve, how come you never said anything?”

  I shrug. “Didn’t really tell anyone. Avery and Eric know, and that’s about it.”

  “So you’ve been taking online classes this entire time in secret? Babe, that’s . . . amazing.” His face lights up, and he comes back around the counter to give me a hug just as Jen interjects, a finger pointed in the air.

  “Um, he called you babe; I think I might go cry into a fudge pan—that’s so adorable.”

  “Not now, Jen,” Reid huffs, placing a kiss on my head. “Eve, I can’t believe you’ve been getting your degree this whole time. I’m truly . . . wow, I’m amazed. What are you majoring in?”

  “Business.” I try to tamp down the blush I feel creeping on my cheeks. “Since I’ve been managing so much at the Inn, I thought it was a good fit. And surprisingly, I really enjoy it.”

  “Well, damn. I’m proud of you.”

  And that’s the second time in thirty minutes someone has said that to me. It feels good. I’m not one to fish for validation—I know how well I’m doing—but ever since my parents passed . . . well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss hearing those four words.

  I’m proud of you.

  Those are the words that justify my years of hard work, and they mean more to me than anything else.

  “Thank you.”

  He squeezes me again and walks behind the counter, a giant smile on his face and awe in his eyes. “So what do you mean, you’re celebrating midterms? Are they over? Did you get your grades back?”

  “Yes and yes. Aced all of them.”

  “Damn.” Reid whistles and then elbows Jen in the boob—she grasps her chest and scowls. “My girl is a genius. Did you hear that? Aced all of her midterms.”

  “I heard it. You didn’t need to puncture my boob to tell me.”

  Not even a little bit apologetic, Reid turns back to me. “I’m guessing you’re going with the walnut?”

  “Yes, please. Just a quarter.”

  Reid cuts the fudge but keeps looking up at me and smiling. It’s adorable. He wraps the fudge up in a signature white Lobster Landing box with red-and-white string and then hands it over to me.

  “On the house, babe. Congrats.”

  “No, I can’t do that. Let me pay.”

  He and Jen exchange glances and laugh. “You’re dating a Knightly,” Jen says.

  “And along with amazing sex, I come with free fudge and treats,” Reid cuts in, eliciting another scowl from Jen.

  “Don’t talk about sex.”

  “Yes,” I agree. “Please don’t talk about sex in front of your sister.”

  “We’re an open family. Aren’t we, Jen?” Reid pulls his sister into a hug and rubs his knuckles against her head. She swats at him and attempts to push him away, but he has at least a good fifty pounds of muscle on her, making escape impossible.

  “Reid, quit it.” She cocks her arm back, but before she can hit him square in the crotch, he releases her, and she flips her head up, her long brown hair a complete mess. Anger in her eyes, she takes off toward the back of the Landing, muttering something I can’t quite make out.

  “Real mature,” I say as he turns to me with a huge grin.

  He shrugs and leans on the counter, his eyes like pools of blue shining from beneath the bill of his hat. “Besides fudge, what do you have planned for tonight? Want to celebrate with me?”

  “From the glint in your eyes I’m going to guess you want to get naked.”

  “Is there any other way to celebrate?”

  I hold the fudge up. “Yup, with confectionary sugars.”

  I take a few steps backward as he says, “Your place, after your shift tonight. I’ll be on your bed, butt-ass naked, legs spread, showing off the goods.”

  A laugh pops out of me, and I shake my head, still headed for the exit. “Please don’t have your legs spread.”

  “Oh, they’re going to be spread so fucking wide that you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

  “That’s terrifying.”

  “Get ready to celebrate, Eve. The party starts in our pants.”

  “I hate you right now. That is so lame.”

  Griffin steps out from the back of the store and pats Reid on the shoulder. “Party in your pants, bro? That’s lame.”

  Reid shrugs him off. “No one asked you. This is a conversation between me and Eve.”

  “Listen to your brother,” I call out when I reach the door. “And think of some better lines.” I give him a quick wave and then head outside, the bell ringing above me as I tuck the fudge under my arm.

  This shift at the Inn is going to be the longest of my life. Even though the whole legs spread thing is kind of weird, I can’t deny the excitement that’s bubbling up inside of me at the thought of seeing Reid naked in my bed when I get home.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and without looking at the screen, I know exactly who it is.

  Reid: No kiss?

  Smiling, I text him back.

  Eve: You did enough kissing in there. I’ll be shocked if there isn’t a write-up about us tomorrow morning.

  Reid: Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, especially since I’m suffering now, being deprived of your lips.

  Eve: Pretty sure you’ll survive.

  Reid: No way I’ll be able to wait until tonight. You looked so fucking good.

  On a whim, I turn back to the shop and text him back.

  Eve: Trying to get on my good side?

  I open the shop door and spot Reid leaning on the counter, looking down at his phone. When he glances up, pure joy spreads across his face. He rounds the counter and quickly pulls me into an embrace. Lifting my chin up, he presses his lips against mine, his hold strong, his mouth desperate, but before we get too lost in the moment, I pull away.

  “You’re a fucking tease.”

  “You said you wanted a kiss, so there you go, Knightly. I’ll see you tonight, and for the love of God, keep your legs closed. You didn’t lose the key I gave you?”

  “Never, babe. You’re getting the full show when you get home.”

  Why is that terrifying and thrilling all at the same time?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  REID

  “There you are.”

  I shut the fridge, and my dad appears on the other side, wearing his classic black-and-red buffalo plaid flannel shirt tucked into a pair of dark-washed Wranglers. Seeing him in anything other than plaid and Wranglers means either someone’s getting married or someone passed away.

  Guess I should be glad he’s wearing plaid and Wranglers right now, especially with the irritated look on his face.

  I take the Tupperware of chili to the counter and start serving myself a decent bowl to heat up. “What’s up, Dad?” I place a paper towel over the bowl and nuke it for two minutes.

 
“Did you get my text the other day? That I want to talk to you?”

  “Yeah, I did.” I put the Tupperware back in the fridge, carefully avoiding eye contact.

  “Were you going to respond?”

  “I was, but I’ve been a little busy.”

  Dad crosses his arms over his bulky chest, his posture as familiar as my own. Tall and broad, my brothers and I all inherited the Knightly physique, but we’re not nearly as sensitive as my dad. Intimidating as he is on the outside, once you get to know Clint Knightly, you soon realize you could make him cry at just the mention of his grandchildren or children. He’s a giant teddy bear who spends his days coming up with fudge flavors and spoiling everyone he loves—me included.

  It’s why when he crosses those arms I don’t cower. I know it’s just a front.

  “Heard you and Eve Roberts have become close.”

  Of course he has.

  “Who told you?” I ask as the microwave beeps. I reach in, grab my bowl, and take it to the dining table, where Dad joins me with a basket of cornbread and a bowl of tortilla chips.

  “Doesn’t matter who told me.”

  “Dad . . .”

  Chuckling, he leans back in his chair and drums his knuckles on the table. “It was Brig.”

  “Fucking idiot,” I mutter and take a bite of the chili. “I swear he can’t keep anything to himself.”

  “In his defense, he was so excited that he had to tell someone.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he did. He doesn’t have any self-control.”

  “He’s just a romantic like your father.” Dad plucks a chip from the bowl, scoops some of my chili, and pops it in his mouth.

  “At least you know when to keep a secret.”

  “That I do.” He clears his throat. “So, think you can carve out some time to talk to your old man?”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Your future.”

  Those two words make my entire nutsac shrivel up. Your future. How many times has my dad had this conversation with me? More than I can count, and every time it consists of him trying to get me out of my “rut,” as he likes to say. I know he’s worried, and for a good reason—I’m not the same guy that I was a few years ago. My drive is gone, and I just can’t bring myself to look for more in my life. But all his “talks,” all his worries . . . all they do is push me further and further away from my old dreams.