Chapter Nine
His and Julie’s association was far from over.
Reed crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the brick building. He’d given up on sleep sometime around four in the morning and had decided to make himself useful. He still couldn’t believe how he’d gone about making himself useful, but it was too late to change it now.
Irritation rumbling in his throat, Reed dragged a hand down his face. He had a serious problem and the crisp mountain air was doing precious little to fix it. How exactly had he managed to f*ck up a chance to spend the week in Julie’s bed? On the surface, the answer was deceptively simple. He’d opened his mouth and let the worst possible post-orgasm sentiment known to man escape. Truthfully, though? He still wasn’t 100 percent sure he hadn’t done it on purpose. She’d thrown him for a goddamn loop, going from skittish good girl to a heck-I’ll-try-anything-once sex goddess in mere minutes.
The girl he’d assumed to be an uptight Georgia debutante took regular pole dancing classes. Enjoyed them. If he ever got the image of those legs wrapped around a pole out of his head, he might have the chance to register surprise.
Lord, the things they’d done. Things she’d initiated. He’d never, ever, expected it from her. And damn it if that wasn’t what made it so f*cking hot. Everyone’s favorite, lovable Goody Two-Shoes turned into a very bad girl under the right kind of touch. His touch, specifically. The thought made the ever-present fire in his belly burn brighter, even as he reminded himself how dangerous that type of thinking could be. He didn’t have a claim on her. He didn’t want or need any emotional entanglements, especially with some upper-class daddy’s girl with a wardrobe that likely cost more than his car. Yet the thought of unleashing all her pent-up sensuality, coaxing it to life, then walking away at the end of the week made him…oddly anxious. Okay, sickeningly so.
When his intention had been simply to get under her skirt, stamp an expiration date on the outrageous attraction he felt for her, everything had been so incredibly simple. Show the spoiled, uptight brat what real passion felt like and walk away without a single regret. Someone hadn’t passed the memo on to Julie, however. Or maybe she’d gotten it, and he’d decided to ignore it instead. Now that he knew what lay underneath the top coat of perfect polish, he saw way too much when he looked at her. As if one glimpse at the Julie beneath now made it impossible for him to see the other one.
Yet after what they’d done together, to each other’s bodies, she’d turned right back into the vulnerable girl she’d been walking into the forest. She’d wrapped her arms around him and he’d…felt something. Right before panic set in.
He didn’t cuddle or reassure. He didn’t dole out sweet nothings. He didn’t get close to women, or anyone for that matter, save his two closest friends. And it would be a cold day in hell before he whispered sweet nothings in one of their ears. Even after such a short acquaintance, he sensed Julie knew this about him. So why she’d gone and hugged him, held on to him tightly as if she wanted to absorb him, Reed couldn’t guess. He supposed his panic stemmed from the fact that he’d liked her arms around him. He’d wanted to gather her up against his chest and sink back into the water. Let them both recover for a while as they drifted. God knows, he’d needed a damn minute after what she’d done to him. He still hadn’t completely recovered.
Instead, he’d recognized the dangers of giving in to the urge. This insanity between them needed to find a way to remain casual. To begin with, they were far too different. He didn’t even say the word “relationship” out loud. Julie, being less experienced than him, could easily mistake sex for something more. She would start expecting things from him. Things he didn’t have a hope in hell of getting right. Growing up, he’d had no example to go by. His parents had been enemies right up until the point his mother died. Even before she’d been diagnosed with cancer, she’d simply been a shell. Made that way from constant criticism—a product of his father’s alcohol-fueled hatred. No. It would be up to him to make sure he and Julie didn’t go any further than casual. It would only lead to disappointment. He would only lead to disappointment, because that was all he’d ever learned how to deliver. It was in his blood. Just look at how he’d gone and offended her two seconds after…
Jesus, after what she’d done with her mouth.
Why then did he wish like hell he could go back in time and pull her closer in that spring?
One thing he harbored zero doubts about? The week wouldn’t go by without him having Julie again. Even now, he wanted to go pound on her door and demand to be let in. If luck was on his side, she slept naked so he’d have nothing to stop him from f*cking her where she stood.
He shook himself when he saw Brock approaching, looking nearly as frustrated as he felt.
“What the hell are you doing up this early?”
Reed raised an eyebrow at Brock’s tone, so different from his usual teasing drawl. “I could ask you the same question.”
“Well, keep it to yourself, because I haven’t got a damn answer.”
“I could hazard a guess.”
“Same goes.” Brock practically threw his body against the wall to join Reed. “You reckon there’s something in the water in Colorado that only the women are drinking?”
He cleared his throat, the words “in the water” hitting a little too close to home after his and Julie’s episode at the hot springs mere hours ago. “Could be the altitude.”
“Altitude,” Brock snorted. “More like attitude. Let me tell you, I’ve been getting more than my fair share of that.”
“Told you she was trouble.”
“Trouble is a significant underestimation.”
Reed glanced at Brock in surprise. “Did you swallow a dictionary last night?”
Brock looked affronted. “I can use words longer than one syllable when I put my mind to it. When did everyone start thinking the opposite?”
“You mean, when did you start giving a shit?”
“That, too.”
Reed shrugged. “Maybe it’s the altitude.”
…
Julie mounted the treadmill and tightened her ponytail so hard she winced. Her fingers stabbed the buttons, entering a punishing pace and time for herself to contend with. Good. She needed her butt good and kicked. Maybe if she’d had the foresight to work out yesterday morning, she wouldn’t have been so tense she lit up like a Christmas tree around Reed Lawson.
The smug, irreverent son of a—
No. Her speed-walk sped up into a run. She wouldn’t let one albeit incredible night with Reed turn her into an irritable, insulting person like him. That simply would not do. She’d followed him into the woods like a lamb to slaughter, planning on ridding herself of the inconvenient yen he’d plagued her with. It was her own stupid fault if she’d expected him to soften up a little afterward. They hadn’t even had sex, but it certainly felt like they’d been as intimate as two people could be. Her inexperience must have been glaring. Hugging the man as though he were the only shelter in a storm. After only reaching third base.
Honestly, Julie.
Truth was, she didn’t reveal her grief and vulnerability regarding her sister to many people. Hated the idea of someone taking pity on her. She’d dealt with enough of that after Serena’s death. Perhaps his response had been abrupt, slightly harsh, possibly inappropriate, but at the very least it had been honest. If Serena was the perfect one, what does that make you? She suspected Reed had no clue how squarely on the head he’d hammered her biggest insecurity. The very same question she’d asked herself throughout her life. One she didn’t have an answer to. For a brief moment, she’d felt as if he could see her. See the horrible guilt and vulnerability she usually kept hidden so well underneath a mask of perpetual perkiness.
Sometimes the burden of it felt like concrete blocks on her shoulders. As the younger sister by five years, she’d grown up abhorring responsibility. Assuming Serena would handle anything and everything like she always did. Without complaint. Julie had flitted off to college with visions of toga parties dancing in her head, leaving her sister with the mighty tasks of catering to their parents’ constant whims, running various charities, learning the family business. Julie had never even given it a second thought. She’d wanted to discover herself, as far away from Georgia as she could reasonably get.
The single time Serena decided to blow off her responsibilities and go water-skiing with her friends at the lake, she didn’t make it home. Her sister had always gone out of her way to help people. Make them feel important. Loved. So when her sister had left a bonfire to retrieve her sweater from a friend’s docked boat and slipped and hit her head on the dock, why had no one gone to check on her for over an hour?
None of it was fair. None it made sense. If anyone deserved to pay for being selfish and irresponsible, it had been Julie. Not her sister.
Why wasn’t it me?
She’d spent four years of her life trying furiously to make up for it, all the while knowing nothing she did could take away the emptiness that went along with every thought of Serena. Her mother grieved to this day, wearing black and carrying around a picture of Serena with her, tucked into her handbag. Julie didn’t blame her. How could she? But she’d be lying if she said it didn’t weigh on her heart. Watching her mother break down every year when the anniversary of Serena’s death rolled around, seeing her father flounder helplessly with no idea how to comfort his wife, ensured that the pain remained fresh.
Last night, she’d revealed a major part of herself, the pain of losing her sister, to Reed. Combined with the intensity of their physical encounter, she’d felt close to him, even if just for the moment. So she’d reached out for him afterward, assuming he felt it, too.
Wrong.
If he came on to her again, she needed to remember how she’d felt when he shattered the notion that they were connected in any way. Yes, they’d been engaging in a temporary fling, but his words had been crude and uncalled for. She’d been hurt by them. Not an acceptable reaction when she’d gone into the encounter expecting only sex.
Now if she could just stop thinking about the way he’d touched her and every deliciously naughty word that had come out of his mouth, she’d be in excellent shape. Or maybe if this yearning, unfulfilled feeling would go away, which she suspected was a product of him refusing to put himself inside of her. Julie groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on the pounding rhythm of her feet on the treadmill.
“Should have known you’d be up early, putting all us regular humans to shame.”
Julie opened her eyes to the sound of Regan’s voice. “It’s not early if you never went to sleep in the first place.”
“Word of advice?” Regan climbed onto the treadmill beside her. “When insomnia strikes, drink till you pass out.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “How are you handling running with a hangover?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Regan started to jog. “I’ve got to do something to work off this excess energy. My libido is running like a hamster on one of those little wheels.”
“There’s a picture.” Julie increased her pace. “Care to share who’s got your hamster all worked up?”
“Dropping the hamster reference now.”
“You started it.”
“Guilty.” Regan punched a button and broke into a run. “I’m not worked up, per se. Just a little itchy when I shouldn’t be. Know what I mean?”
“Too well, actually.”
“Oh! Really? Do tell.”
Julie’s pace faltered, suspicious gaze swinging toward Regan. Something about her tone was deceptively innocent. No one had ever accused Regan of being innocent. “Why don’t you start with the telling? You’re acting like a toddler with pudding on his face.”
“Please, Julie. Please, speak English. It’s way too early for me to translate Southern.” She sighed loudly, adding under her breath, “And I’ve heard way too much of that accent lately.”
“It’s a musical accent.” Julie nudged Regan in the arm. “I’m waiting for an explanation of your tone. You didn’t sound quite as sympathetic over my itchiness.”
“If someone walked in on this conversation, they would be seriously confused.” Regan sent her a sly smile. “I guess I was just wondering why Reed hasn’t gotten around to scratching your itch yet.”
Julie veered to the side, then righted herself. “How’d you know about Reed? Has he…has he been talking about it?”
“About what?”
“Regan.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, he hasn’t been talking about it, goober. Anyone who was in the same room with you and Reed that first night knows. You guys were two seconds away from wild, oh-God-I-think-I-see-Jesus sex.”
Julie lifted her chin. “I was talking to Logan the whole time.”
“Yes, but you were communicating with Reed in every way that counted. A little nudge was all you needed.” A flash of uncertainty crossed Regan’s face. “Right?”
Julie smacked the stop button and the treadmill screeched to a halt. “You switched the keys, didn’t you? I should have known. I assumed this whole time it was Reed.”
“He sure as shit didn’t protest.”
Her body reacted instantaneously, which angered Julie even more than Regan taking matters of her love life into her own hands. “Of course he didn’t. He has the manners of a tomcat on Sunday.”
“You’re going Southern on me again.” Julie punched a button and started an all-out sprint that had Regan raising her eyebrows. “Uh-oh. She’s madder than a wet hen.”
“Now who’s going Southern?”
Regan gave a firm shake of her head. “Correction. I’ve gone Southern. Now I’m going West. It’s like my own sexual version of the Gold Rush.”
“Panning for orgasms.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
Half an hour later, Julie shoved open the door of Spago and checked her watch. An hour to clean up and twenty minutes to shower before she headed to the scavenger hunt starting point to help Kady hand out lists to the participants. She rounded the corner of the empty lounge and came to a dead stop.
Lights had been taken down and placed neatly in their boxes. Banners were folded and stacked on a table. Centerpieces had been tucked into the packing crate marked “centerpieces” in her own loopy handwriting. Someone had obviously gotten up even earlier than she had to clean up on her behalf. Before she registered the obvious answer, a folded note caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, she saw it had her name written on the front. Ignoring the accelerated pounding of her heart, she opened it.
If I were the kind of man who apologized for something he said, this may or may not be how I would go about doing it. Reed.
Julie reread the note five times before she realized her mouth had stretched into a goofy smile.