That Secret Crush Page 12

  “Spare me the lecture, Dad. I’m not interested.”

  “This isn’t a lecture.”

  “No, it’s you expressing your concerns. I get it. I’m not like my brothers—I don’t have a thriving business to call my own. I’m not like Jen—I don’t have a family to come home to. I’m a fuckup who lives on a houseboat with nothing to his name besides a few hundred in the bank account. We can’t all be perfect, Dad.”

  “I’m not asking you to be perfect.”

  “Not outright, but I can see it in your eyes. I’m an embarrassment to the family. The black sheep, the one child who has literally nothing going for him except a girl who seems to have lost her mind and decided to date him. But trust me, I’m sure I’ll fuck that up too.” What is she even doing with me in the first place? The girl is so goddamn ambitious. For the past seven years she’s been earning her college degree in business, on top of working full time and everything else she’s gone through. Isn’t she afraid I’ll hold her back? Because I am.

  It wasn’t until she told me about going to school that I really saw the vast difference between our lives. She’s thriving and I’m stagnant. Will she realize I’m not good enough for her?

  I’m the Knightly who’s not going anywhere. Why would anyone want to attach themselves to that?

  “Now listen here.” My dad’s voice grows angry, but I don’t give him time to finish.

  My spoon clanks against my bowl as I push back from the table and make my way down the hall to the front door.

  “Thanks for the chili, Dad, but I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Reid, I’m trying to talk to you,” his voice booms from behind me.

  “How many times have I told you that I don’t want to have that conversation?” I yell back. “Just let me be. Let me be the family fuckup. I’m fine with that as long as everyone just stays out of my goddamn business.”

  “Reid.”

  The door shuts behind me before Dad can get in another word. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be getting a call from Griffin later about disrespecting him, but I’m not going to worry about that right now. I just need to get far, far away.

  Carve some time out for him. Like I really want to fucking find time to hear about my mistakes all over again. I’m well aware of where I’ve fallen short. I don’t need a reminder—I live with my failure every damn day of my life.

  “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Eve asks, stepping into her apartment and switching on the light before tossing her things to the side. “And why aren’t you naked, on the bed, legs spread?”

  I don’t answer. Instead I sip my beer and stare out the window from my spot on her couch. Numb. It’s how I’ve felt ever since I left my parents’ house. I debated even showing up at Eve’s tonight but knew that if I didn’t, she’d be coming to the houseboat, and I didn’t want her to drive down to the harbor after a long shift.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” She sits down next to me on her couch and takes my face in her hands, tilting my head toward her.

  “Rough day.”

  She studies me, her beautiful hazel eyes searching for any kind of clue. “Am I missing something? Last time I saw you, you couldn’t not smile. What happened in the last six hours?”

  “Nothing I want to bother you with.” I let out a deep breath and, trying to pull it together, put my arm around her and ask, “How was work?”

  “No way, not happening. You are not going to deflect. Talk to me, Reid.”

  I drag my hand down my face. “I really don’t want to get into it, okay? It’s just going to ruin the night.”

  “Well, that’s already happened since you weren’t naked.” She crawls onto my lap and faces me, the warmth in her eyes starting to thaw the icy walls I threw up the minute my dad tried to get serious. “Talk to me.”

  I run my hand up her thigh, wishing she didn’t have pants on right about now. “How about we skip the talking and strip instead.”

  I reach for the zipper on her jeans, but she stops me. “Or we can talk, and then you can do whatever you want to me in the bedroom.”

  “Whatever I want?” I ask, brow raised.

  “Within reason. I have some hard nos.”

  I think it over. I mean, anything I want. I think I can suck it up for that particular reward.

  “Remember, we were friends first, which means you used to tell me things. Don’t stop now that you can get in my pants.”

  I chuckle. “You’re so fucking eloquent.”

  “I pride myself on it.” She tugs on my shirt. “Come on. How about for every thing you tell me, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. How does that sound?”

  “Promising,” I answer, my hands slipping under her shirt, my mood already lightening. “How about we start with this.” I lift her shirt up and over her head, revealing a purple lace bra. Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more perfect tits on a woman. Not super huge—just two perfect handfuls.

  Needing more, I reach for the front clasp of her bra, but she quickly swats me away. “I gave you a shirt, so now you give me some details about your day.”

  “Fine,” I huff. “My dad wanted to, as he put it, carve out some time to talk.”

  “That doesn’t seem so bad. What did he want to talk about?”

  I shake my head. “Pants. I want the pants off before I answer.”

  Sighing, she stands and strips out of her jeans, revealing a matching pair of lace boy shorts. God, those are hot, and see through. She proceeds to sit back on my lap, where I’m sure she can feel my growing excitement.

  “First he mentioned how we were dating. Brig told him,” I say. Eve rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it. Apparently Brig just had to tell someone else.”

  “Great. So you talked about us, but that can’t be why you’re so upset.”

  “Nope.” I reach up and pop the front clasp of her bra. Her tits spring forward, and my mouth waters. Fuck, I’m not going to be able to sit here without touching her for too long.

  She shrugs off her bra and squeezes her boobs together with both hands before giving them a little nipple tweak.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I ask, the zipper of my jeans starting to cut into my hard-on.

  “Trying to hurry you along.”

  “Christ, Eve, don’t play with your nipples.”

  “Mmm, but it feels so good.” Her head rolls back.

  “Future!” My voice cracks. “He wanted to talk about my future. This wasn’t the first time he’s talked about it, and I know it won’t be the last. He’s not happy with my life, and he’s always trying to fix it, which just reminds me of what a loser I am, of how I’ve fallen short.” The words rush out of me so fast that I can barely remember saying them.

  She lifts her head and meets my gaze. “You haven’t fallen short.”

  “Don’t.” I shake my head. “Let’s drop it, okay?”

  “Reid, don’t shut me out. If you’re upset, let’s talk about it.”

  I groan and press my palms to my eyes, wishing I’d never started this conversation. “The last thing I want to do right now is talk about this shit—not when you’re almost completely naked on my lap.”

  “Then I’ll get dressed.” She moves to pick up her clothes, and I quickly slide her down on the couch, trapping her beneath my body.

  “You’re not getting fucking dressed.”

  “Well, you’re not fucking me until we talk about this.”

  “Why? Why the hell do you want to talk about this? It’s only going to make you want me less. Do you really think I want to talk about my shortcomings with you only wearing underwear?”

  “Do you really think I’m that shallow?” she shoots back.

  “No, but I do know you could be with anyone you want, and I’m just the lucky asshole who happened to hit on you at the right time during a blizzard.”

  “So you admit you made the first move?” Her eyes light up.

  I lean down and press a kiss against her nose. “I’m admitting to l
iking you a lot and not wanting to spoil that with talk about what I’m doing with my life.”

  “I understand that.” She presses her hand against my cheek, and I lean into her touch. “But I’ve known you for a long time, Reid. I know all about your life. If I didn’t like it, we wouldn’t be together. So share with me, because it’s not going to change my mind about you.”

  “It might.”

  “It won’t,” she says fiercely. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. I wish you would, but I get it. You need time to trust me.”

  “What?” I furrow my brow. “I trust you, Eve. I trust you just as much as my family. I just . . . fuck.” I breathe out heavily, hating every second of this. “I don’t open up much—or at all, really. I don’t with my family, and I never really did with Eric. Emotion has always meant weakness for me—ever since culinary school, when we didn’t have time to feel emotion. Back then we were trained to just react, to feel nothing. So it’s going to take me time to adjust to opening up.”

  “Okay.” She smiles, but I can see the sadness in her eyes, and I hate that I caused it. I hate that I made her think she’s not important enough or that I don’t trust her. I don’t want to talk about my life because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with it. Ever since that night in New Orleans, I’ve been trapped in this standstill, this purgatory, with no end in sight. Cursed or not, I have to start over, and I have no idea where to begin or how to do it, but I know I need to do it alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, shame hitting me hard in the chest.

  “Don’t be. It’s fine. Can I just say one thing?”

  “Sure.”

  She runs her hand through my hair, starting at my brow and moving down to my ear. Her touch sinks into my bones, easing the self-loathing I’ve been storing there.

  “Don’t shut out your family,” she says. “I’ve lost two parents, and I would give anything at this point to get one more lecture from them, one more conversation about my life. Or just to hear their voice, listen to their wisdom. I know you’re hurting, Reid, but also remember—your family is your heart. They’re a part of you, and you never know what might happen. Your dad loves you and only wants the best. Give him a chance, and honor that love by listening to him.”

  Well. Fuck.

  “Eve, I’m so sorry; I wasn’t thinking. I have no right to complain.”

  “Don’t apologize. You don’t need to. Just give it some thought, okay?”

  I nod, already resolving to call my dad tomorrow. Eve’s words sink in, reminding me of the devastation etched across her face the day of her dad’s funeral. I promised myself then that I’d make a conscious effort to be closer to my family, to appreciate the fact that I still had them in my life.

  That was then.

  I’ve forgotten that promise. Looks like I just needed a little reminder.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EVE

  “Hey, stranger.”

  A tall figure looms over me as a smooth, seductive voice pulls me from my work. Only one man can make my entire body light up with excitement with just the sound of his voice.

  I look up to find Reid standing in front of me, wearing his worn-out jeans and Lobster Landing shirt, looking absolutely perfect.

  “Hey, you.” I can’t hold back my smile. I’ve spent my day off in Snow Roast, our local coffee shop, trying to get some studying in—and hoping Reid might stop by. I did mention my study plans to him, after all.

  Yeah, I dropped subtle hints, and I’m not ashamed of it.

  I’m so glad he took those hints, because seeing him does more than just tip up the corners of my mouth—it puts me at ease, shows me that this man is mine.

  “This seat taken?” he asks, pointing to the empty armchair beside me.

  “All yours.”

  Coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other, he sits down and says, “I didn’t get you any coffee, since I saw that you already have some, but I did bring some scones from the Landing.”

  “And Ruth is okay with that?” I ask, worried that the coffee shop owner might take offense to having outside food in her establishment.

  “Yeah, she’s good—right, Ruth?” Reid shouts across the shop, holding up his bag.

  She winks. “All good, Knightly.”

  “See?” Reid turns back to me. “We have an understanding. I buy copious amounts of coffee from her every week, and she lets me bring my girl a scone while she’s studying.”

  “Your girl, huh? Did you tell her that?”

  “Nah.” He leans back in his chair and pulls out a blueberry scone. “But she knows we’re friends. Plus I told her the other day that I wanted to try her new blueberry coffee while eating a blueberry scone, and I promised to bring her one so she could try it too.”

  “Ahh.” I put my pencil behind my ear and set my book down. “Bribing the shop owner. Makes sense.” I lay out a napkin on my lap and place the scone down before breaking off a piece and popping it in my mouth.

  God, it’s so good.

  It’s no secret that the Lobster Landing has not only the best fudge in town but the best baked goods as well. Ruth doesn’t even bother serving anything but muffins and breakfast sandwiches in her shop because there’s no point competing. Although she has started carrying some of the Lobster Landing’s baked goods for people who don’t want to walk the two blocks, and she sells out immediately.

  But the scones, they’re my absolute favorite. They remind me of the scones my grandma used to make before she passed. I didn’t get much time with her, but the time we did have was spent in the kitchen making apple-cinnamon scones. Of course that’s where Eric caught the cooking bug, from our grandma, and why he’s so good at not just cooking but baking too. Dare I say that our scones are even better than the Knightly recipe?

  These are a good second option, though.

  “How’s the studying coming along?”

  “Good. I can’t wait for school to finally be over. I’m kind of sick of it. For a tiny moment, I considered going for a master’s, but I chucked that idea right out the window the minute I started this last semester. I think my bachelor’s is good enough for now.”

  “I don’t think I could ever go back to school.”

  “No?”

  He shakes his head and sips his coffee. “Nah, I was never good at that shit.”

  “Wasn’t culinary school all about studying and taking tests?”

  “Yeah, but in a different way. It was more challenging than anything, and I enjoyed that.” He looks out at the coffee shop, and I wonder if he’s thinking about all the fun he used to have making things, coming up with new recipes, and testing them out on friends and family. That was the Reid who would come up with the craziest concoctions with Eric and then sit me down at the Knightly dinner table just so he could force me to try out their “latest and greatest” recipe. Some dishes were surprisingly delicious given the unheard-of combinations, and some made me run to the bathroom faster than I could put my fork down. I miss that Reid; he was so full of life, so excited.

  Don’t get me wrong: I like Reid the way he is, but there was a certain spark in his eye when he was in the kitchen. It was where he belonged, where he still belongs. I just wish he would find his way back.

  Clearing his throat, he nudges my foot with his. “So, I texted my dad this morning—told him to pick a time and place so we can meet up to talk.”

  “Really?” He took my advice. My heart warms at the thought.

  “Yeah, really. You were right.”

  “Wow.” I sit up in my seat and hold out a pen and paper to him. “Can I get that in writing so I can use it against you in the future?”

  He chuckles, the sound rumbling over me. “Never, Roberts.”

  “Figures.” I cross my legs. “So what do you think he’s going to talk to you about?”

  “I don’t know. Probably wants me to work with his friend up in Pottsmouth again. He suggested it a year ago, and I refused.”

&nbs
p; “Who?”

  “Willy Kneader.” Such an unfortunate name. “He runs a fishing company up there. Dad said I would make more money if I had better gear and a boat that didn’t threaten to sink every time I took it out to sea, but I don’t want to be working for someone else. I like my hours. Plus I enjoy being on my boat by myself. I like the solitude. The last thing I want is to hang out with a bunch of guys I don’t know while they bro out. I’m good. But I’ll hear what my dad has to say, let him know why I don’t want to work with Willy, and leave it at that.”

  “Willy Kneader . . . was he the one with the daughter who asked that famous football player to prom, and he said yes?”

  “Yeah. Gabby Kneader. He wound up taking out all their friends in a stretch limo. Rogan was so jealous. I think he told Harper at the time that she should have pulled the same stunt just so he could meet Joe Garrison.”

  “That’s right. He was whoring his own girlfriend out for his personal gain. I remember that. Harper was so mad because Rogan made it seem like the football guy was more important than her.”

  Reid leans forward and looks over his shoulder before saying, “I think at the time Rogan would have taken Joe over Harper.”

  “No way.” I shove him back in his seat. “Rogan was so in love with Harper. Even though I was just a sophomore watching them as seniors, I knew what infatuation looked like, and Rogan couldn’t ever take his eyes off Harper. I remember wishing a guy would look at me like that one day.”

  “Yeah?” Reid asks, staring me down. “Am I looking at you like that right now?”

  “Oh yeah, and it’s giving me all kinds of butterflies,” I deadpan. “Please stop. My heart can’t take it.”

  “Sorry, babe. Can’t help myself when I’m with you.”

  “Shut up.” I nudge him with my foot. “It wouldn’t kill you to be more romantic.”

  “You don’t think I’m romantic?” His eyes widen. “What do you call the way I sucked on your clit last night? If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.” He crosses his bulky arms and huffs.