Page 37 of The Pretenders of Copper County
But the strange, disobedient compulsion that had come over me in the bar last night was still in effect—The leftover effects of the alcohol? The silver lining of a hangover? I wasn’t sure—and the more Reed Sunday told me to do something, the less I wanted to do it.
“You know, we really should talk at some point,” I murmured low enough so only Reed could hear.
Reed ignored me just as he’d been doing all morning.
“About the kiss,” I went on. “Ourkiss.Last night.”
Another grunt.
“I think we should discuss—” My toe caught on a piece of gravel covering the path around Watt’s raised garden beds, but I managed to catch myself before I stumbled.
Reed looked at me in concern, but when it was clear I was steady, he looked away again. “We discussed it when it happened. I told you it was no big deal.”
I clenched my hand into a fist. “You did say that. You did. But that’s not a discussion. Discussions are supposed to involve you sharing your thoughts and feelings about a thing and then asking me my thoughts and feelings about a thing. And, um, not to argue with you—since I hate arguing—but itwaskind of a big deal. You kissed me,” I reminded him unnecessarily. “And you… I mean, we… I mean,I…” I cleared my throat. What was it called when someone held you in his big, strong arms and moved his cock against yours so perfectly that the whole world went silent, and your brain exploded into fractals of light, and you felt more aware of yourself—more awake—than you ever had before? I didn’t know, so I fell back on what Mrs. Rose’s romance novels always called it. “I…released.”
Reed heaved a sigh heavy enough to make the trees in Watt’s orchard bend. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “But I shared my thoughts and feelings. Ithinkit was caused by an adrenaline rush.” He side-eyed me, jaw set like concrete. “Ifeellike it will not be repeated.”
“Oh.” This… was disappointing.
When I’d gotten in Reed’s car yesterday, I’d been prepared for a hookup… or, at least, as prepared as a person with zero practical experience could be. I’d expected I’d sort of follow Reed’s lead and go along with whatever he wanted. Any way the man wanted to touch me or kiss me would have been fine.
Now, though… now I hadopinions. I wanted Reed Sunday to give me more of those drugging kisses. I wanted his hands on me again. I wanted him sprawled nearly on top of me in bed, his hard cock against my thigh, like he’d been when I’d woken up in the motel this morning… though, ideally, without Reed’s eyes flying open in sleepy horror, or him muttering oaths and apologies as he fled to the bathroom before I’d woken up enough to enjoy the moment. Next time, I wanted to makeReedlose control.
But all of that only worked if Reed wanted a next time.
“Not to be repeated,” I agreed, trying not to sound as sad as I felt. “Good to know.”
“Didyouhave thoughts or feelings you wanted to discuss about this?” Reed sounded about as enthusiastic as I would if invited to go free climbing. Naked. In a blizzard.
“N-no. Nope.” I waved a hand airily. “No feelings whatsoever.”
Now, see,thiswas a lie.
I glanced sideways again. A breeze caressed Reed’s thick brown hair and plastered his T-shirt to his thick chest. Just the sight of him made my mouth go dry.
I couldn’t help asking, “You’resureit won’t be repeated?”
This earned me a full head-turn. Reed surveyed me from head to toe, and his eyes went soft, but when he spoke, his voice was firm. “Positive. I’m a professional, Chris, and I won’t kiss you again under any circumstances. That’s not something you have to worry about. Okay?”
I’m more worried about younotkissing me, but okay.
Reed’s words were an important reminder, though, that he wasn’t with me because he wanted to be; he was with me because he thought I couldn’t take care of myself. In fact, if it hadn’t been for him thinking he had to protect me, ourlives would never have intersected in the first place. Which meant I should probably be thinking about how to, you know,dissectus rather than fantasizing about us, erm, intersecting further.
I knew Reed’s feelings about us going our separate ways since onthisparticular topic, he had plenty to say. He was convinced I was the person he’d been sent to guard, that my uncle was in witness protection, and that Danny was a criminal who was working out a plea deal to testify against his “enemies,” who were now out to get me.
I… I believed that he believed that. I truly did.
Reed was kind, and smart, and trustworthy, and he made some compelling arguments. It was pretty clear I was the guy he’d been sent to protect—I blamed being flustered yesterday for my silly suggestion that I might not be. And there were many facts to support his story, like the wacky coincidence that my uncle was on a never-ending vacation cut off from all communication at the same time Reed claimed he was in witness protection, and the way those bikers last night had known my uncle’s name and feared it, which I couldn’t explain away.
But unlike Reed, I knew Danny. Iknewhe was a good person. It showed in the way he loved me—in the way his eyes got misty when he looked at me and said I looked “just like Carmelita” and how he’d sometimes run a hand over my head, back when I was younger, and say, “Ah, Christoforo, you’re heart of my heart.” I knew it in the way he’d let me cheat at poker when I was a kid but had put a stop to that when I turned thirteen because “A true Fromadgio is honorable.” I knew it from the way he worried about me when I was bullied for being stammer-y and shy and in the way he’d taught me that if a person has good character, is responsible and considerate, keeps his head down and thinksbefore he speaks—which I remembered to do almost always, except where Reed Sunday was concerned—that other people’s opinions didn’t matter.
So no matter how much I instinctively trusted Reed, I had to believe he was acting on bad information. Danny was not a criminal.
It was possible that Danny was in protective custody, though. Someone might have threatened or lied to get him involved in something shady or blamed him for something he hadn’t done. Maybe Danny was testifying to set things right. In all of those scenarios, it was all too believable that Danny wouldn’t have told me because he knew I’d worry.
So until I figured out what was actually happening, I’d agreed to go along with Reed’s plan and come to the safe house—erm, safe campground?—at least until I figured out what the heck was going on with my uncle and how I could help fix it.
The fact that this also gave me more time with Reed was—seriously, no kidding—neither here nor there. I wasn’t even thinking about that.
