That Secret Crush Read online

  “Yeah about . . . wait, what?”

  “The restaurant that Mr. Knightly’s starting.” At my confused look, Ruth’s face blanches. “Oh dear, oh no, he didn’t tell you, did he?”

  Does this look like the face of a girl who knows anything about her boyfriend? Nope.

  A restaurant. That’s what this is all about, and he decided not to tell me.

  How many other people know?

  Am I the joke of the town?

  I run my tongue over my teeth and shake my head. “No, he didn’t, but now everything’s making way more sense. Why he’s basically in crisis—and so hot and cold with me all of a sudden. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, I’m sure my big mouth would repeat it anyway.”

  “Don’t be upset at yourself,” I assure her. “Any sane person would have assumed a boyfriend would tell his girlfriend about this. But lucky me, I’m dealing with Reid, the most closed-off person in Maine.”

  “He does seem like he would be difficult to talk to, but he also has a sensitive side, and I’m sure it’s lovely to be around.” Ruth is so sweet, always trying to see the best in everyone, while I’m about to go on a warpath.

  “It is,” I admit, humoring her. “It’s so nice. I don’t mind his asshole tendencies. I grew up with that, but when I get to see the sensitive side . . . God, Ruth, it does something to me. Like I can’t get enough of him.”

  “I can understand that. So what’s your question?”

  “Do you know if Mr. Knightly asked Reid to help with the restaurant?”

  “I don’t know much, but Ren did mention that Mr. Knightly was looking to go into business with Reid.”

  “I see.” I look away, not wanting Ruth to see the hurt in my eyes. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. He was presented with this opportunity, this huge opportunity, and it’s clearly tormenting him, but he didn’t think he could discuss it with me.

  What does that say about our relationship? I know he says we aren’t just fuck buddies, but in this moment, it feels like we are.

  This is a huge piece of his life, but he kept it from me. Does he not value my opinion? Does he not trust me enough to confide in me?

  The feeling of being discarded eclipses me once again, just like when Eric didn’t come to me when Bar 79 closed. Reid is treating me the same way, keeping me in the dark and not letting me help.

  If I know one thing, it’s this: I feel damn foolish for being patient and not pressing him for details now that it seems like the entire town knows.

  And where the hell did he go the past few days if this was the reason he had to leave town?

  Millions of questions float through my head as the gravity of this omission hits me.

  “Are you okay?” Ruth asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I nod but start packing my things. “Yeah, thanks for being honest with me. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re upset. I upset you. I’m sorry. Please, let’s talk about this.”

  I pause my packing and look her in the eye. “This isn’t on you, Ruth—this is on him. I have to get going.”

  “I don’t like that you’re going to leave upset. I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t.” I pat her hand. “You actually helped me.”

  “You’re not going to break up with him, are you? You two are so cute together.”

  “No, I’m not; I don’t think I have that in me, but he owes me an explanation. That’s for damn sure.”

  I give her a quick hug and take off for my apartment right as I shoot off a text to Reid.

  Eve: My place, tonight. We need to talk.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  REID

  Dead man walking.

  Yup.

  Whenever your significant other texts the words We need to talk, it’s never fucking good.

  Ever.

  With the way Eve stormed off the dock and has been ignoring my texts, I can feel our relationship’s impending doom. And to be honest, I don’t even think I’m going to fight her over it. She deserves better; she deserves more. Not some guy who’s fucked up in the head with no future to speak of. She deserves a man who can actually communicate and who’s going to be there for her when she needs a cheerleader or a shoulder to cry on. She doesn’t need a man who’s going to test her limits—or keep secrets.

  I lean against the hood of my truck and stare at the small basement apartment window that faces the parking lot. My breath floats like a white cloud into the air as I let out a long sigh. Hell, maybe I am cursed with broken love. Here I was, lucky as shit to even have Eve look my way, and then I fuck it all up because I can’t seem to get my head on straight.

  She’s so goddamn perfect—from her personality to her intelligence to her fine-ass body and beautiful eyes. She’s my dream woman, the person I’ve had a crush on for over a decade, but when I finally get the chance to be with her, I go and push her away.

  I’d never admit this to Brig—or either of my other brothers for that matter—but I can’t seem to write off the notion that something truly happened to us in New Orleans, that perhaps some cosmic force did strike us in the hearts, dooming our chances at love until we screw our heads on straight.

  Or I’m just the world’s biggest dumb-ass, the guy who pushed away the woman he’s been pining after for years—and all for a job that won’t work out anyway.

  My heart in my throat, I push off my truck and head to her apartment. It almost feels like walking the plank, but instead of man-eating sharks, my fate involves Eve ripping out my goddamn heart.

  I have no one to blame but myself.

  Nerves completely shot, I lift my fist to knock on the door—just as it opens. Eve stands on the other side wearing a pair of silky red shorts, a black tank top, and a smile.

  A smile?

  I almost expected her to be wearing a black turtleneck and a menacing scowl powerful enough to shrivel up any pair of balls that gets in her way.

  “Hey.” I can barely get the word out before her arms are wrapping around my neck and pulling me into her warm apartment while her lips find mine.

  What is . . . fuck, her mouth is so amazing.

  Warm and soft, she kisses me, shuts the door, and pushes me up against it. This feels familiar but with roles reversed. Her hands run from my shoulders down over my pecs to my stomach, where she starts to undo my pants.

  What the hell is happening right now? Not that I should really care—Eve is trying to take my pants off. Now is not the time for questions.

  An instant later, my jeans fall to the ground, and one of her hands shoots into my briefs, cupping my already-hard cock.

  “Fuck,” I say against her lips. She squeezes, and a hiss falls past my lips as she pumps her hand up my length. “Eve, what—”

  She silences me with her mouth, her tongue diving in deep, dancing with mine, matching my strokes. She’s aggressive, needy, and I find myself feeling the same exact way.

  Getting myself together, I pull down the front of her tank top and take her breast in my hand. I roll her nipple between my fingers, enjoying her moan, which I capture with my mouth. I move over to the next breast, yanking down on her top even more, not caring in the slightest if I rip the damn thing.

  Needing more, I lift her up, and her legs wrap around my waist, my cock rubbing against her backside. My mouth falls to her tits, and I suck one in as her head falls back, exposing her beautiful long neck. Shit, I need to be inside her now, more than anything I’ve ever needed in my life. There’s no time for going to the bedroom or even the couch for that matter. I drop down to the floor and make quick work of my clothes as she does the same.

  We’re frantic, we’re frenzied—we’re a pair of uncontrollable addicts looking for their next fix. She sprawls on the ground, pulling me on top of her and rubbing my cock along her slit.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet,” I mutter, shutting my eyes at how goddamn amazing she feels.

  In response, she guides my cock to her entrance.

&
nbsp; “Condom, babe.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she says right before slipping me inside.

  “Fuck,” I growl. “Shit, Eve.”

  Without a word, she flips me to my back and fully fills herself as she sits down on my lap, her hips rocking back and forth, starting a rhythm I’m not quite ready for as my cock swells inside of her.

  “Eve . . .” She grinds against me. “Fuck, Eve, I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

  “Good. I want you to come inside of me.”

  Jesus Christ, what has gotten into her? I don’t have much time to think about it as she leans forward, angling her hips and sending herself into overdrive, her pace picking up as her hands roam my chest. I keep my grip planted on her thighs and enjoy the way she rides me, drawing out her own pleasure.

  I watch, fascinated, as her face morphs, filling with an all-consuming passion that takes over her body. Her hand floats through her hair as her boobs bounce with her rhythm—the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Yes,” she says softly, grinding down hard. “Yes,” she says a little louder as her mouth falls open. “Oh God, yes.” Her hips rock even faster, and her pussy clenches around me. I’m a fucking goner. There’s no holding back. My orgasm hits me square in the balls as I rock up into her, groaning, just as my name falls off her lips, and she comes right along with me.

  She collapses onto my chest and very gently continues to rock her hips until she’s completely sated. I press a light kiss across her forehead and wrap my arms around her, holding her tight, soaking up every goddamn second of her.

  As we lie there in each other’s arms, I finally get a chance to think everything over. On my way here, I thought it was the end—that I’d have no choice but to walk away tonight and never get another chance to kiss Eve.

  That’s not the case.

  At least that’s not what it seems like.

  I rub my hand over her back and whisper, “Are you okay?”

  She presses a kiss to my chest, her lips lingering as she nods. “I’m perfect. I needed this, needed you.” She looks up into my eyes. “I needed to feel you inside of me, be truly connected with you, because it’s felt like we’ve been drifting.”

  “That’s my fault, and I’m so fucking sorry. I’m not good at this shit.”

  “I’ve gathered that.” Her hand cups my face as she leans forward and presses another kiss to my lips. “Let’s get dressed and talk.”

  “Good talk or bad talk?” I ask, my stomach turning in knots again. This girl can truly make or break me with a few words.

  “A let’s clear the air kind of talk.”

  “Do we need food?”

  “I have some mac and cheese in the oven right now. Should be ready soon.”

  “You cooked me dinner?”

  “Yeah, and if you judge it with your fancy palate, I’m going to smack you in the balls.”

  “Babe,” I chuckle, “I eat SpaghettiOs out of a can. My standards are pretty low at this point, and anyway, I bet your mac and cheese is amazing.”

  “It is.” She winks and stands up. I take a second to admire her naked body before she starts putting her clothes back on. As she covers her beard-burned breasts, she nudges me with her foot. “Get dressed. I’m not going to be distracted by your nakedness.”

  “But my dick likes the fresh air.”

  “Well, tell him to take a deep breath because you’re putting your pants on.” With that, she walks off toward the kitchen.

  I quickly put my clothes back on, sending an apology to my penis, and then help her out with the plates, bringing them to the table with two sodas. In all honesty, her mac and cheese looks fucking amazing as she pulls it out of the oven and dishes it out.

  “Are those crushed Doritos on top?”

  “Nacho Cheese,” she says, proud of herself. “The only way to eat mac and cheese is with crushed Doritos on top—or Fritos. Depends on how I’m feeling.”

  “Skipped the bread crumbs?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Why use bread crumbs when you can use freaking Doritos?”

  “You have a point.” I laugh and take a seat. Wasting no time, I dive my fork into the mac and cheese and take a big bite.

  Creamy and crunchy from the Doritos. This very well might be the best mac and cheese I’ve ever had.

  “Did you make a roux?”

  “Yup, used three different cheeses as well.” Her mouth opens wide as she takes a big bite. Shamelessly I watch her lips work over the fork, all the blood in my body rushing straight to my cock once again. That’s all it takes with this woman, watching her eat freaking mac and cheese.

  I clear my throat and look away. “Well, it’s really fucking good.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  I shake my head. “Why would I lie? You just put out, so no need to butter you up.”

  That garners me some good old-fashioned side-eye.

  “Well, aren’t you a charmer.”

  I plop another huge bite in my mouth, already thinking about seconds. “I like to think so.”

  “Well, Mr. Charmer, why don’t you tell me about the restaurant your dad wants to start with you?”

  Errr . . .

  Fork halfway to my mouth, I stare back at her. How the hell did she find out?

  Did Eric call her up and tell her? Was it spread through town gossip?

  Was it Brig?

  That fucking nimrod probably told pretty much everyone at this point.

  “Who—”

  “Ruth. Not that it really matters at this point, because I should have heard it from you.”

  “Wh-what, uh . . . what exactly did she tell you?” I tread carefully, wanting to find out how much she really knows. Like, does she know about Eric and my trip down to Boston? I can’t imagine that going over well if she did.

  “That your dad is starting a restaurant and asked you to head it up.” Okay, so she doesn’t know everything. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s huge, Reid, and I feel like that’s something you should talk to your girlfriend about.” She moves her fork along her plate, avoiding my gaze. “Do you know how embarrassing it was to find out about the restaurant from someone other than you?”

  If I were in her shoes, I would be pretty fucking pissed.

  “I’m sorry, Eve, but it’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “Really? Seems pretty easy to tell me. You just say, Hey, Eve, guess what?”

  “Not when I don’t think I’m going to do it.” I push back from the table. “There’s more to it. One, I don’t cook anymore. Two, I’ve already lost a restaurant—I can’t lose my dad’s dream. I would never forgive myself.” And the fact that your brother doesn’t want to take a chance on me again pretty much justifies every fear I have. I keep this last part to myself, though.

  “But with help, it could work. I’m getting my degree in business, and you guys will need a manager. I could—”

  Knock. Knock.

  We both turn our heads toward the door and then look back at each other.

  “Expecting someone?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  “Only you.” She stands from her chair, tosses on a sweatshirt over her tank top, and opens the door.

  A gasp falls from her lips, followed by, “Eric, what are you doing here?”

  I shoot up from my chair and stand as far away from the table as I can get, as if that’s going to make things look innocent.

  I’m pretty sure he’s the last person either of us expected to show up at her apartment.

  Jesus. Thank fuck we have our clothes on. I can’t even imagine what Eric would think if I was sitting in his sister’s apartment shirtless.

  “Hey, sis,” he says, stepping inside and pulling her into a giant hug. “I thought I would come pay you a much-needed visit. I have some—” He notices me and stands straight, eyeing me from over Eve’s shoulder. “Reid, what are you doing here?”

  “Hey.” I wave my hand awkwardly. “Good to see you, man. I, uh
, was just catching up with Eve.” I stick my hands in my pockets, unsure how to act. Deny, deny, deny—that’s what’s on repeat in my head. “But I should get going. Early morning on the boat tomorrow.” I walk toward the door and quickly slip my shoes on and grab my coat. I reach out and shake Eric’s hand. “You look good.” I pat him on the back and give Eve a parting glance. “Thanks for dinner, Eve. See you around.”

  Before I can hear her response, I’m out the door and headed straight for my truck, my lungs barely functioning as my mind whirls with what the hell he’s doing here.

  Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s going to be very good on my end.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EVE

  I blink a few times, almost as if a ghost is standing before me. I can’t remember the last time I saw my twin brother. It’s gotten to the point that I don’t even see him on holidays. We barely talk on the phone. We shoot each other random texts on occasion, and that’s the extent of our interaction. After Dad died and Eric lost the restaurant, well, things have been seriously strained between us.

  And the strain becomes all the more obvious when Reid leaves the apartment like his ass is on fire, and the only way to put it out is by getting in his truck.

  And the worst part is that Reid barely spoke to Eric, someone he hasn’t seen in almost three years. Instead, they exchange a handshake, and he’s gone.

  “So are you going to welcome me?” Eric asks, looking a little confused by Reid’s abrupt retreat.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I stand there, blank and shaken. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised to see you.”

  I let him in and shut the door behind him as I hear Reid’s truck pulling away. I hope this doesn’t scare him off, that he doesn’t put even more distance between us—I’m pretty sure that would just about destroy me. And right when I was about to tell Reid how much I care, how much I want to be there for him . . . Eric decides to come waltzing back. I swallow down my annoyance.

  Eric strolls into the kitchen. “Do you have dinner with Reid often?”

  Eyeing the place settings, I bite down on the side of my cheek. Should I tell him that I’m seeing Reid, that I’ve been seeing him for a while now? Would the truth make Eric angry? He shouldn’t really have a say at this point since he’s been out of our lives for so long. Then again, judging from the way Reid sprinted out of my apartment, I’m guessing he’s not ready to let the cat out of the bag. But I don’t think I am either, in all honesty. Eric has kept so much from me; the last thing I want is for him to storm back out the door the minute he arrives because he’s pissed about my new relationship with Reid. I want to know why he’s here; I want to hash things out with him. I want to fix our relationship, and then I can ease him into the new development. So instead of telling my brother the truth, I say, “Um, not really, just on occasion to catch up.”