Page 20 of Eight Count Heat
Her room is on the third floor, at the end of a hallway decorated with bulletin boards announcing mixers and study groups. She unlocks the door and pushes it open to reveal a single room, another luxury at space-starved Sable Ridge.
The space is meticulously organized. Bed made with hospital corners, desk arranged with textbooks by size, rowing gear hung neatly on hooks by the closet. The walls are bare except for a single framed photo of what must be her family – all perfectly posed in coordinating outfits on a beach somewhere.
But what strikes me most is the scent, or rather, the lack of it. Even Beta rooms have some personal aroma. Either soaps,perfumes, laundry detergent. Reese's room smells like nothing. Clinically clean, as if it's been sanitized.
"Nice digs," I comment, leaning against the doorframe as she swaps her backpack for a smaller gym bag.
"It works."
I glance at the family photo. "Your family?"
"Yes." She doesn't elaborate.
"Two brothers, huh?”
“Both Alphas," she says, almost as an afterthought.
"Bet they were thrilled about their little sister becoming a coxswain."
Something crosses her face. "They had opinions."
"I'll bet." I pick up a small trophy from her desk. Regional Champion, Women's Collegiate Rowing. "Impressive."
"Thanks." She gently takes it from my hand and sets it back exactly where it was. "We should go."
As she moves past me to grab her water bottle from the mini-fridge, I catch a glimpse of a silver case tucked behind her textbooks. Medication? She notices my gaze and subtly shifts to block my view.
"Ready," she announces, shouldering her bag.
Back in the Jeep, I decide to change tactics. Personal family topics clearly make her uncomfortable.
"So what do you do when you're not terrorizing Alphas on the water?" I ask as we head toward the boathouse.
"Study. Train. Sleep."
"That's it? No hobbies? Secret talents? Embarrassing reality TV addictions?"
She looks out the window again. "I play piano. Classical mostly."
"No way. Me too!" I slap the steering wheel in excitement. "Well, not classical. More like 'Heart and Soul' and whatever I can figure out by ear. But still. Piano solidarity."
A genuine smile breaks through this time, transforming her face. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and a tiny dimple appears in her left cheek. It hits me like an unexpected wave that she's not just pretty in a conventional sense. When she actually smiles, Reese Callahan is stunning. A sharp rush of some kind of emotion zips through my core when she looks at me like that.
"What else?" I press, wanting to keep that smile going.
She hesitates, then says, "I sketch sometimes. Landscapes mostly. It helps me remember race courses."
"Talented and practical. Gray must love that."
Her smile fades at the mention of our captain. "Gray doesn't know."
"Our fearless leader doesn't know everything? Alert the media."
She looks at me for a second, cocking her head to the side in a gesture I’m not sure she’s aware of. “You don’t like him.”
"I respect him," I correct. "Gray's the best stroke we've ever had. Driven, precise, dedicated. But like and respect are different things."
She nods, considering this. "And the others? What's their story?"
