Chapter Eight
The dinner was tomorrow. There was one more night of this pretend relationship, and Reeve wanted to have all his lines down cold. He didn’t want there to be any f*ck-ups. But then, with what she’d done to him in the library and what he’d done to her in the theater, he couldn’t imagine anyone would think they weren’t a real couple. Fact was, they had chemistry in spades. There was something combustible between the two of them. It was as if he’d been given the keys to her body, and the same for her with him. The next day as he walked to her apartment on the Upper East Side, he was still thinking about the way they connected—but not just physically, because he liked talking to her too.
More than he’d expected.
Matter of fact, he’d never thought he’d be so into this arrangement. That he’d want more.
He rang the buzzer.
“Be right down,” she said, and he waited on the steps of her brownstone.
He looked up and down her street. It was one of those quiet blocks in the seventies, not far from the park. There were trees and pretty stoops, and brick buildings and lots of families pushing strollers or holding hands with young children. It was a far cry from where he lived down in the East Village in a tiny shoebox of an apartment that he’d snagged on a sublease when an actor buddy got a touring role in the German production of Book of Mormon.
But Sutton did well for herself, so it was no surprise she could handle a block like this. He leaned against the stone railing that led to her building, watching the street. A few fallen leaves blew past him, courtesy of the crisp autumn that had landed in Manhattan. He wore jeans, combat boots, and a tee-shirt—this one with the words Unplug Electric Vampires in a cool white typewriter font. He had on his scratched-up leather jacket, and his jawline was speckled with a bit of stubble. He ran a hand through his hair, and turned when he heard Sutton say, “Hey you.”
There was something sweet in her voice, something almost romantic. He’d never heard her talk that way before. He turned to watch her walk down the steps with her dog—a tiny little brown and tan mix with a cute face, and a worn, blue fleece jacket. But Sutton looked even better. He’d only seem her dressed up and now he was getting a glimpse of the after-hours gal—she had on skinny jeans that showed off every gorgeous curve, short boots and a jacket.
Then, as if she’d remembered that she didn’t talk in sweet, love-y voices, she cleared her throat and returned to her business-like tone. “Hi there, Reeve. So glad you can join The Artful Dodger and me for a jaunt through the neighborhood.”
But he liked it better when Sutton let down her guard, and he was curious about the softer side of this sharp and smart woman, so he tried to draw her back. “Your dog is kind of insanely cute,” he said, and then kneeled down to pet the soft little guy.
“Thank you,” she said, and there was that sweetness again, but as he rose to give her a kiss on the cheek—just in case anyone was watching, he reasoned—she was steely once more. Maybe she was the actress. Because he couldn’t read her anymore. She had this mask on—as if she felt she needed to be friendly, smiling, witty Sutton. Not the sweet one who melted under his touch. He wondered where that Sutton had gone. But he didn’t know what to say or how to ask, so he simply gestured to the sidewalk and off they went, The Artful Dodger at the end of his leather leash, nose to the ground, sniffing and leading the way.
“Quite a fall we’re having, isn’t it?” she remarked.
“Um, yeah. It’s definitely fall.”
“So crisp. And the leaves are changing.”
“Yep. They are definitely changing.”
This was what they were talking about? The weather?
“And soon winter will be here.”
“That’s usually how it goes. One follows the next,” Reeve said, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.
She gave him a sharp stare.
“And then spring, and then summer,” he continued. “I studied the seasons in school.” But he wasn’t being playful. He was annoyed that she was being so…clinical…so cool.
“What a great school. And how was your day?” She wasn’t going to indulge in letting him in. It pissed him off.
“It was whatever. I went for a run with Jill. Helped her get ready for her big audition next week.”
“Oh, Jill. You helped her, did you?” Reeve smiled privately when he heard the note of jealousy in her voice. She couldn’t hide it, and he was glad.
“Yeah. I help her with a lot of things,” he added, and it was probably a stupid addendum to the question, but if he could get a rise out of Sutton, he’d take it.
“What sort of things?” she asked coldly as they walked past a shoe store peddling heels that cost half Reeve’s monthly rent.
“This. That,” he said in an offhand way.
“Oh. This. That,” she repeated, punctuating each word.
“Why? Does it bother you?”
“Should it bother me?”
“You’re my fiancé. Why don’t you tell me? As my fiancé, does it bother you?”
Sutton stopped to let The Artful Dodger sniff a small patch of grass surrounding a tree. “We’re not real fiancés. We’re not real anything. So there’s no real way anything you do could bother me.”
“All right. That’s clear then,” Reeve said through tight lips. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Wait. There is one thing you could do that would bother me. It would bother me if you blew the deal. So don’t do anything with Jill or anyone until we finalize things, okay? Then you’re free to go.”
He scoffed at her, then held his hands out wide. “That is very good to know. Very good to know, indeed.”
“Anyway, let’s go over tomorrow night’s dinner and how you need to behave,” she said as they reached the crosswalk and stopped to wait for the light. She pointed one finger at The Artful Dodger and he sat instantly. The dog was well-trained, and that’s what Sutton was all about. Training Reeve. That’s what she wanted. That’s who she was. Bright and shiny on the outside, cool and calculating on the inside.
They walked for several more blocks and she reviewed the ins and outs, the expectations, the potential questions, until their fake relationship was airtight and hermetically sealed. She was the instructor and he was the pupil and she wasn’t going to let him forget it. As they turned back toward her apartment she issued her final directive. “And of course, you should feel free to touch me. Hand on the leg, hand on the arm. Holding hands, kiss on the cheek. All of that is totally acceptable,” she said, then shot him that smile he’d come to recognize as her “thank you very much, we’ll be in touch” smile.
Then there was a scuffle of paws. The rattle of a chain collar. Out of nowhere a big, brown German Shepherd barreled down the sidewalk and was snarling at the little Artful Dodger. His teeth were bared, and his nostrils were flaring, and he was off the leash. The German Shepherd’s mouth was open and he was ready to take a bite. He had one thing in mind. Evening snack. As the German Shepherd opened his snout, Sutton shrieked her dog’s name.
Instantly, Reeve lunged through wiry fur and snapping teeth for the bigger dog, grabbing the prong collar as hard as he could and yanking the German Shepherd away from The Artful Dodger. The big dog growled and whipped his head around, unveiling sharp teeth that looked as if they could sink holes into skin. But Reeve held on tight to the chain on the dog’s neck, even as the German Shepherd scraped his jaw against Reeve’s wrist from the motion. Then with his free hand, Reeve scooped up the tiny pup, tucking him under his arm, like a football being cradled by a running back. The horse-sized dog yanked and tugged, and for a second Reeve thought his arm was about to be tattooed with a set of dog bitemarks, when he heard a voice call out.
“Henry! Henry! You bad dog!”
The shepherd cocked his ears and wagged his tail and was suddenly a sweet, doting animal searching for his person. A dude in loose jeans, ballcap and sweatshirt, rounded the corner, a look of surprise on his face. In one hand, he held a nylon leash. He ran to the German Shepherd and stopped.
“I’m so sorry. We just got him, and he has some issues, but we’re trying to train him.”
“Some issues? He almost killed our dog,” Reeve said, tucking the shivering dog more tightly in his arms.
“I’m really sorry.”
“You have to be more careful. There are kids and other dogs and people everywhere, okay? He was about to bite our dog.”
“Okay, I said I was sorry.”
Reeve relaxed a bit. Still, he was pissed. “Yeah. So good luck with the training.”
The guy clipped the leash back onto Henry and pulled him the other way. Reeve turned to Sutton, whose mouth was agape. “You saved my dog.”
Reeve handed the little dog to Sutton’s outstretched arms.
“He’d have been fine. He’s a tough little guy.”
Sutton shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that. You were so fast,” she said, in a breathless way. “You just reached your hand in there. He bit you. That dog bit you.”
“It’s nothing. I swear it’s nothing.”
“Let me see.” Sutton reached for Reeve’s wrist, touching tenderly around the red indentation from a canine.
“There isn’t even any blood. I’m totally fine.”
“We should get this cleaned up.”
“Sut, it’s nothing. I swear I’m totally fine.”
“Please.” She looked so pleading, so warm again. This was what he had wanted. Not to be bitten, because the mark she was so concerned about was barely a graze. But he wanted this Sutton. The one beneath the veneer.
“How about this? I’ll let you buy me a drink.”