Page 132 of Let It Breathe
“I’m not taking any chances.”
She nodded and retreated to the ladies’ room, where she splashed cold water on her face and wondered what the hell had just happened.
Sheila. Her friend. How could she?
But Reese knew. People did stupid things for love. Hadn’t she proved that before?
She finished finger combing her hair and wished like hell she’d brought some lipstick. She settled for the mango lip balm she found in the bottom of her purse, along with a piece of gum with a nickel stuck to it. Finally, it was time to go back out and face the world.
The second she stepped into the lobby, she saw Clay standing there. He wasn’t alone.
“Eric,” she said. “How did you get here so fast?”
“I was right down the street on an errand when Sheila called.” His forehead furrowed as he looked back and forth between them. “What the hell is going on?”
She took a deep breath and caught his hand. “You know how you’re always telling me marriage is really tough? How it’s not easy, how you need to work hard at it every single day?”
He nodded, his expression wary. “Yeah?”
Reese squeezed his hand. “Remember that, okay?”
Chapter 21
Though Reese and Clay offered to stay at the police station with Eric and Sheila, they both declined. “We’ve got a lot to work through here,” Eric had said in his usual gruff tone.
Reese bit her lip. “You’re planning to work through it, though, right?”
“That’s what marriage is, Reese,” he said. “A helluva lot of work. But worth it, in the long run.”
She’d nodded and retreated out to her car without another word. Clay followed at a short distance, intent on talking to her one way or another.
That didn’t mean he had even the foggiest clue what to say.
He spent the fifteen-minute drive to the vineyard contemplating it as he watched Reese’s taillights flicker in front of him. Her hair slid along the nape of her neck as she glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes catching his for a brief moment before darting back to the road.
Clay followed her up the gravel driveway, watching as row after row of grapevines fluttered past in the dark en route to Reese’s little house. He hadn’t set foot inside since the night they’d slept together. Since he’d held her in his arms, made her whimper, made her moan.
The thought of stepping over the threshold now made his gut seize a little.
He brought the truck to a halt and sat there for a few seconds composing himself. By the time he swung open the driver’s side door and stepped out onto the gravel, Reese had disappeared inside.
The front door stood open, so Clay walked through it, his palms already beginning to sweat. He took his shoes off by the door, not wanting to track mud over her clean floor.
She stood motionless in front of the kitchen, her hands clenched awkwardly at her sides. Clay studied her face, looking for clues to her emotional state while he admired the curve of her cheek. She wore no makeup, and he couldn’t remember whether she usually did or not. With her hair loose and wild around her shoulders, there was an unpredictable air about her, and it made him ache to reach out and touch her. He swallowed hard and forced himself to stop staring.
“You want something to drink?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” Clay said. Then he stopped. That was an impulse response—an attempt to be polite—to not inconvenience her.
Fuck it. He was thirsty.
“I changed my mind,” he said. “A Coke would be great.”
Reese blinked, then nodded. “I’m not sure I have Coke,” she said, moving into the kitchen. She didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights, though the under-cabinet lighting cast a warm glow on the countertops. She pried open the refrigerator door and leaned down to peer inside. Clay felt his head spin as he watched her bend over.
Caveman, he told himself.
So what?
