Page 25 of I'm Yours

A deep, rich, timbre that hits me right in my core only made worse when I dare glance in his direction. His head is thrown back, strong tattooed neck on display.

“You’re still such a brat,” he teases. Years ago, he called me a brat often. Whenever I teased him just to watch him squirm. My smile is so big my cheeks hurt. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this level of happiness. If I’m being truthful, the last time was the night he told me he was in love with me.

Life spiraled out of control for me for a little bit. I spent time with the wrong people, thinking that I could fill a void that was left by the lack of his presence in my life. It was with those “wrong people” though, that I found my job working at Eve’s. One Saturday night, they dared me to go with them. Instead of being turned off or feeling that I’d just walked into some seedy bar, I had an odd sensation of feeling at home.

Watching the women dance and spin and turn, flip upside down while gripping the pole with such ease, made me jealous. I left that night with a spark of hope and showed up the next morning at Eve’s demanding a chance. I had never touched a pole in my life and it took a lot of practice, but it became something that spoke to my soul and eventually I came to love it.

“Some things never change,” I tell him with a grin and shrug.

He stares intently at me and my grin slowly fades as I look back and forth between his dark eyes. “Yeah. Some things.”

The silence between us stretches. I wait for it to be uncomfortable but it never happens. Instead, we move to the back of his pickup and sit down on the tailgate. “It’s still so beautiful here.”

“It is,” I agree.

It’s quiet between us again, only the sounds of the breeze blowing through the tall grass and the water lapping against the shore. It’s serene and my favorite thing in the world. “I missed it. Didn’t know how much until I got here.”

“It’s not as if you never visited,” I remind him.

He looks at me and nods, swallowing hard. “It was different.”

“How?”

“Well, I avoided going quite a few places,” he says, giving me a crooked grin.

“Afraid to run into me, huh?” I give him a nudge with my shoulder, figuring that it would be good to just get the truth out. The big old elephant in the room, so to speak.

He doesn’t hesitate when he answers, “Pretty much, yes.”

A laugh bubbles up from my chest and I cover my mouth when a snort escapes. When the laughter subsides, I sigh and look at him, turning on my butt to face him. “Damn, Reed. Twelve years.”

“I know.”

“That night…” He holds up a hand and stops me from continuing. I want to tell him that I was head over heels in love with him, too, but I was too much of a coward to say the words. That I was petrified of admitting my feelings.

“Let’s not. At least not right now, okay?”

A big part of me feels a huge sense of relief that he stopped me. He just came to town and I was ready to have verbal diarrhea all over him. Talk about freaking a person out.

“Okay.”

“Seriously, though. Pole dancing?”

Pressing my lips together, I decide to wait to explain how it really came about until we’ve gotten to know each other once again. That thought alone gives me pause, because I’ve only been in his presence again for a tiny bit of time and I’m already assuming that he and I are going to be spending time together.

Deciding to give him the generic answer, I say, “It’s more than just what strippers do.”

“I know. A lady who used to work for me went to some classes and talked about it a lot. She swore it helped with her anxiety and I think it really gave her a boost of self-confidence.”

I’m nodding while he talks, understanding exactly what he means. “It does help with those things. It’s hard to explain, but getting lost in the dance... it’s saved me. Really. I’m still completely shocked that our little small town embraced it but your mom had a hand in that.”

Reed cocks his head to the side and furrows his brow. “How so?”

“You know her. She was going to support me and made sure everyone else did, too. She decided I was going to make a go of it and got to work. I’m absolutely positive she practically forced people to show up.” I laugh, remembering the opening day at the studio when she stood at the door and greeted everyone she’d “invited”.

He laughs and scrubs a hand down his face. “Ahh. She worked her magic and gently encouraged everyone in town to show up and promised them a jar of her famous huckleberry jam if they did.”

“Pretty much. Exactly. I think she included cookies, too.”

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