“Thanks,” she said, blushing like she was still back in junior high school getting attention from her big sister’s boyfriend.
“Nice to see you,” Hoyt said to Georgia, who scooted over in her seat—willingly—to make room for him. Brett was still standing there a bit dumbstruck by Reid’s hands-off admonition.
“Good looks run in the family,” Reid added, nudging his shoulder against mine. What in the great-wide-world was happening right now? Was my ex-boyfriend literally cozied up next to me in a booth and flirting with me like nothing had ever happened between us? Like he hadn’t been gone for the past seven years without so much as sending a Hallmark card on my birthday?
“You’re right about her looking good, RT,” Brett finally said, when he pulled up a chair to the end of the table. He didn’t even bother turning it around. Instead, he straddled it and folded his arms on the back rest. I hadn’t noticed before, but he was equally as tattooed as the man sitting next to me at the moment. “But I think it’s up to her, a grown-ass woman,” he added with a wink, “on whether or not she’s off limits,” he smirked. “Brett Sallinger,” he extended his hand, “nice to meet you.”
“You know,” Georgia contemplated her words and I could tell by the look in her eyes it wasn’t going to be the response that Brett was looking for. He waited for my sister to accept his handshake, but she gave him the once over and tilted her head curiously. “I’ve managed to make it a whole twenty-two years without contracting an STD. I think I’ll hold off on pressing my luck with you.” The laughter that broke free from Reid and Hoyt was enough to have at least half of the bar patrons looking in our direction. “Nice to meet you all the same,” Georgia added, firing a wink back in the same fashion he’d offered earlier.
“Oh, this is going to be a fun night after all,” Reid proclaimed, tossing an arm over my shoulders and leaning back into the booth to wait for Brett’s response. As funny as my sister’s declaration was, I couldn’t muster up a laugh. I could barely muster up the courage to speak, afraid that I might cry if I did. Concern was coursing through my veins with just how comfortable it actually felt to have Reid’s arm around me.
Too comfortable. He was too close.
It was irritating that he was sitting there, I knew that if I leaned into him, my body would fit perfectly in that little nook under his arm. My head could easily rest on his shoulder. The scent of him would wrap around me just like his arm would and I would feel like all was right in the world. At least that’s what I remembered. That was the way I used to feel when he held me. It was even more irritating that I had the desire to do just that—to lean into him and let his larger body engulf my much smaller one.
No. No, no, hell no. He could not pick me up and put me down and then waltz back into town and do it all over again for his own amusement.
I had to get out of there. Trapped between the wall and a man that I couldn’t seem to not be attracted to. My rock and a hard place felt like they were closing in on me.
“Let me out,” I said, feeling my lungs contract. The tightness in my chest a warning that I needed to get as far away from Reid Travers as quickly possible. He’d hurt me once, he was surely capable of doing it again.
“You okay?” he asked and he removed his arm from around me. I didn’t have time to answer him, so instead I pushed my hands against his arm and shoulder until he slid out of the booth and stood for me to exit. My feet hit the ground and his hand caught my arm to help me stand.
“I told you before,” I said, jerking free of his grasp. “I’m just fine.”
Had I done something wrong in the last five minutes? When Georgia had waved us over in the bar, I’d taken it as a sign that Nora was on board with talking to me, but apparently she was not. We were all laughing at Georgia’s complete shutdown of Brett’s advances when Nora fled the scene like she was wanted for murder.
“What’s got her in such a hurry?” Brett asked as we all watched Nora exit the bar.
“It’s my fault,” Georgia said, nudging Hoyt’s side to get him to let her out of the booth. “I’ll go get her.”
“Wait,” I stopped her. “I’ll go. I have a feeling it has something to do with me.” Georgia stilled herself in the booth and when she didn’t protest, I knew I was right. The guys each gave me a go-get-her look. I’d go get her all right. Go get her and tell her that I was sorry if I made her feel uncomfortable tonight and that I’d missed her. I had a whole lot of other things to tell her too, but I didn’t plan to have that conversation standing inside or outside a bar. That was a private conversation we would be having.
Did she really hate me so much that my arm around her had set her off? It wasn’t even a move. I was just casually sitting there. Okay, well that was a lie. I might have accidentally grazed her shoulder with my fingertips, but how could I not? Her sitting there all perfect and irresistible in that little dress. I had to test the waters.
Epic fail.
“Nore,” I called out when I found her on the sidewalk, leaned up against the wall a few buildings down. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay, he asks now,” she mumbled sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest and anxiously rubbing her hand up and down her arm. I’m not sure if she thought she was speaking just to herself or if I was supposed to hear that part but I’m positive I wasn’t supposed to think it was cute. “You missed your chance to ask me if I was okay a long time ago,” she said louder. I’m positive I was supposed to hear that.
I leaned up against the wall next to her and let my head fall back. She was right. I’d screwed things up with her. I knew it. She knew it. Hell, everyone in that whole damn bar probably knew it now, if they didn’t already know it, especially after the way she ran out.
“Fair point,” I turned my head to look her in the eyes as I apologized, but she kept looking straight ahead. There was nothing or no one in front of us so I knew that she was purposely avoiding eye contact. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to ask. Whatever I did in there to make you get up and leave, I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” she said after a long pause. When she finally turned her head to look at me, her eyes were glassy and I knew it had nothing to do with the liquor she’d been drinking. She kept them locked on mine and looked anxious about whatever it was she was about to say. “Reid, you can’t just come back to town after seven years and sit down next to me like nothing ever happened. You can’t… touch me, Travers. I’m not one of your track bunnies and you can’t just—”
“I didn’t... I wasn’t trying to,” I placed my hands on her shoulders and turned her to face me. “I’m sorry. It just felt normal to sit next to you. I missed you.”
“Don’t say that,” she whispered shaking her head.
“I mean it.” Sincerely. Seeing her again had made me realize it. Telling her only made it that much more true. “You look great, by the way,” I added, hoping to smooth things over with her. “Your hair,” I wrapped a piece of it around my fingers. I couldn’t help myself. Touching her hair used to be something I had the freedom to do. “It’s darker, but I love it.” Her gaze trained on my fingers and for a moment I almost thought she was going to smile.
“You can’t flirt with me and put your arm around me.” She stepped back, looking away again, putting enough distance between us so that her hair slipped from my fingertips.