She kissed me back, her tongue brushing across mine. Her sweet coconut smell made it hard to hold back. I wanted more of her. When I kissed her deeper and she gripped my back, I wondered if I’d ever be able to get enough.
I slid my hand from the back of her neck under the collar of her t-shirt to her shoulder, wrapping my palm around the slight lines of it. She moaned softly and I ran my other hand up past the bottom of her shirt to the warm skin of her waistline.
Ivy had never been touched by a man in the right way. I could tell by the way she jumped slightly before melting into me every time my hands wandered someplace new. I wanted to lay her down on my bed and spend hours slowly exploring every inch of her. Her sighs and moans made my cock ache for more.
It was too soon for us to sleep together, so I couldn’t take her into my bedroom. I walked her over to the couch and put my hand on her back, easing her onto it. The glimpse I caught of her from above took my breath away. Her cheeks were pink and her chest rose and fell as she looked at me, arousal pooling in her bright blue eyes.
I’d wanted her since the moment I saw her, and I finally gave in to the primal urge she brought out of me. I took her hands and put them on the armrest of the couch, holding them as I laid on top of her and kissed the soft skin of her neck.
Her body stiffened beneath mine.
“No, Reed,” she said, sounding panicked. “Stop. Please.”
I scrambled off her in a rush, my head swimming with confusion. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She stood and wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know.” She straightened out her clothes and smoothed a hand over her hair. “No. I’m not okay.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought—”
“It’s not you,” she said, her eyes dark with sadness. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve been not okay for a while now. Since before I even met you.”
Her gaze darted around the apartment like she was looking for something.
“Was it me being on top of you? Is that what upset you?”
“Where’s my purse?” She went to the kitchen in search of it.
“Ivy.” I followed her. “Are you leaving?”
“I need to go.”
Her eyes had a frantic look now, like a trapped animal desperate to escape.
“Did someone hurt you?” I wanted to walk the few steps separating us and take her in my arms, but I forced myself to stay rooted in place. I didn’t want to scare her again.
“Where’s my purse?”
Tears glistened in her eyes and I felt a surge of emotions. Seeing her hurt made me feel helpless. Knowing I’d scared her made me feel like an epic asshole. And realizing someone had given her a reason to fear men this way filled me with a rage that ran hot in my veins.
“It’s on the table in the living room,” I said.
She practically ran there, grabbing her purse and the sweatshirt she’d left next to it. Within a second, she was out the door, her feet pounding down the stairs in a rush.
I wanted to follow her. It was all I could do not to run after her and tell her I’d drive her home. I didn’t want her to be alone while she was so upset, but she needed to escape, and I had to respect that. She needed to escape me, which hurt like hell.
The terror in her voice when she’d told me to stop replayed in my mind over and over. The night had gone from one of the best I’d ever had to one of the worst in a matter of minutes.
AFTER LEAVING REED’S APARTMENT in a panic, I’d practically run over to Margie and Gene’s. I’d only gotten a few nosy questions from Margie about my date with Reed before I said good night and went to curl up in bed with Noah.
She knew something was wrong, which was why she didn’t press me. After we left Margie and Gene’s Saturday morning, Noah and I spent the rest of the weekend playing trains and cleaning the apartment. And I spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened on Friday night.
Going back to work Monday morning was good for me. The hustle and bustle of the diner kept my mind off things with Reed.
Margie and I stood together behind the counter at the diner, her stocking a pie case and me starting a fresh pot of coffee. I groaned when two brunette customers walked in and sat down at one of my tables.
“What?” Margie asked.
“Those two at Table Twelve. They’re complete bitches to me every time they come in and they always tip me a penny.”
Margie turned to look and then gave a ‘hmm’ of recognition. “Well, no wonder. You know who that taller one is, don’t you?”
“No.”
“That’s Julie Marsh. Tom Marsh’s wife.”
“Great,” I muttered. “She probably blames me for him getting suspended from his job.”
“She ought to blame him.” Margie stacked her tray with plates of food. “I’ll take Table Twelve.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, but thanks.”
I considered making them wait, but decided to get this over with instead. The brunettes were both glaring at me when I approached their table.
“Can I start you off with some drinks?”
“I dropped something, can you get it for me?” Julie Marsh asked, eyes wide and innocent.
I bent to look under the table. “There’s nothing but a used Kleenex under there.”
“That’s it. Get that for me, will you?”
I stood upright and shook my head. “Sorry, no. Can I get you guys some drinks?”
“You’re my server, aren’t you?” Julie asked in a nasty tone.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“So serve me.”
I laughed. “My duties stop at serving the food you order. Look, I have other customers. Would you like drinks or not?”
“I’d like to talk to your manager.”
“Margie? Sure. She’s the one who told your husband not to come back in here. She’ll be glad to talk to you.”
I turned to get Margie, stopping after just a couple steps when I heard Julie say a single word.
“Slut.”
“Excuse me?” I faced her.
“You heard me. I said you’re a slut.”
I eyed her trashy outfit and bit back a comment.
“We have kids, you know.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “And my husband’s gonna lose his job because of the scene you made. Don’t prance around in here shaking your ass if you don’t want men to look at it.”
“Your husband did more than look.”
She stood up and pointed at me, her face reddening with anger. “You’re a whore. Stay away from my husband.”
Something inside me snapped. Being called a whore and a slut when I was pregnant had cut me deep. I’d left that shame behind, and being labeled those things in Lovely was more than I could stand.
I grabbed an empty plate from a vacant table and held it high, throwing it to the floor with all my strength. It shattered into bits against the tile, silencing the diner.
“I am not a whore!” I yelled at Julie. “You don’t even know me. How dare you call me that?”
Margie was behind me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“You two need to go,” she said to Julie and her friend. “Don’t come back.”
All eyes in the diner were on me as Margie led me into the kitchen. Once we were safely there, I broke down in Margie’s arms.
“I’m so sorry,” I said tearfully.
“No apology needed, Ivy. I know how stressed out this whole thing with Tom has you. Julie had no right coming in here and treating you that way.”
My body sagged weakly against hers. It wasn’t Tom that was upsetting me. It was the way I’d treated Reed the other night and the anger I still felt over the letter from my father.
Gene put a hand on my back. “Why don’t you take the rest of the day off, Ivy?”
“No,” I pulled away from Margie and wiped my palms over my face to dry it. “I’m okay.”
“Take a few ho
urs for yourself,” Margie said. “We’ve got things covered.”
“Would it be okay if I work back here for the rest of my shift? I can rotate stock and get the dishes done. I could use a break from customers.”
“Of course,” Margie said. “But you need to eat some lunch first.”
“I need to go clean up that plate.”
“Shawn’s got it.” Margie smiled and left to go back to the floor. We were full. I wondered if Reed would come in today.
“What can I make you to eat?” Gene asked.
“I’ll make a salad. Thanks, Gene.”
“Here.” He plated a piece of grilled chicken off the grill. “Put some protein on it.”
The savory smell of the freshly cooked chicken made my stomach growl. I took it and went to the prep table to make a salad.
I was a hot mess and I didn’t know how to make things better. After lunch I lost myself in a mountain of dishes, wishing the hot soapy water would wash away my worries.
“Ivy?” Margie called behind me. “It’s after two, honey. You’re off.”
“Oh. I’m almost done.”
“Someone brought you something.”
I turned around, my wet hands dripping onto the tile floor. Margie held a dozen fresh red roses in a milk jug with the top cut off.
“Reed.” Tears welled in my eyes.
“Did that boy’s mother not teach him what a proper vase looks like?”
I laughed and approached Margie to smell the fragrant flowers. “It’s kind of an inside joke. Oh, Margie, he really is so sweet.”
“You found a good one.”
“Is he still out there?”
“He’s at the counter waiting on lunch.”
I dried my hands on my apron. “Do I look okay?”
“Beautiful as always,” Margie said. “I’ll set these flowers on my desk for you to take home when you go.”
I nodded, already halfway to the double doors connecting the kitchen to the dining room. When I pushed them open, I saw Reed at the counter, wearing a navy blue suit. His face was unshaven—just the way I liked it.
He turned as I approached, sliding off the stool he was sitting on.
“Thank you,” I said, reaching up to cup his cheeks in my hands. “I’m kind of soaked with dishwater right now or I’d hug you.”
He bent and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a hug so tight he lifted my feet a couple inches off the floor.
My tension faded away in the warmth of his arms. “I’m sorry about the other night,” I whispered in his ear.
“Don’t be. I want to respect your boundaries, but I need to know what they are.”
“Sometimes I don’t even know.”
Reed pulled back, rubbing his hands down my upper arms. “We’ll figure it out together, Ivy.”
I nodded, my heart full of gratitude for this man who accepted me with open arms—quirks, fears and all.
“Can I take you and Noah to Jimmy’s for dinner this week?” he asked. “And another date for the two of us whenever you’re ready?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know if I was capable of having a physical relationship with a man. But after getting a taste of one with Reed, I knew what I was missing. I’d gone to sleep with an ache between my legs every night since our failed second date. My head told me to stop this and go back to the safety of my isolated existence, focusing all my energy on Noah.
But my heart craved more of the closeness we’d shared. Even after my freak out, Reed still wanted me. If he accepted me as I was, maybe it was time I accepted myself that way, too.
JIMMY’S ITALIAN PLACE WAS crowded, and I was pretty sure at least half the people here were speculating about me, Reed and Noah sitting together in a booth.
“Do you feel like people are looking at us?” I asked Reed.
“Yeah. You know how it is in a small town like this.”
“I’m hungry,” Noah said, looking up at me from our side of the booth. “Want some scapetti.”
I ruffled his hair, smiling at his mispronunciation of spaghetti. “It’ll be here soon, sweetie. Want some bread and butter?”
He nodded solemnly and I reached for the basket of bread in the center of our table.
“I want Reed to do it,” Noah said. I looked at him, my brows lowered with surprise.
“Sure thing,” Reed said, reaching for a piece of bread. “Do you like lots of butter or a little bit?”
“Lots of butter,” Noah said, smiling.
I sat back, watching the two of them. Since my son was born, I’d never felt the need to bring a man into our lives. I’d never questioned whether I was enough, because I knew I was. I loved Noah with everything in me.
And now I realized it wasn’t about needing a man in our lives. Reed was here because I wanted him here, and because he deserved to be. Being around my son was a privilege I’d never cared to extend to any man. It felt good, having someone with us who cared enough to ask if Noah wanted a little butter or a lot.
Reed turned over his placemat and drew Noah a train, complete with a waving conductor in the front. He was no artist, but Noah’s eyes lit up as he pointed out the wheels and the caboose.
My heart was full. This moment felt too perfect to be real. I didn’t even feel self-conscious as I slid my hand across the table and slipped it into Reed’s. His eyes met mine as he stroked a thumb over my knuckles.
“Will you guys come to my parents’ house for Christmas dinner?” he asked.
“Oh.” I tucked my hair behind my ear as I considered. “We always do Christmas morning at Margie and Gene’s. We open presents and then go into the diner to make the meal we serve free for people who don’t have a place to be that day.”
“We do a family trip to church on Christmas Eve and a family dinner on the evening of Christmas Day,” he said. “What if you guys do those things with me and I’ll come help make the meal at the diner on Christmas morning?”
“You might get stuck peeling potatoes.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Okay. It sounds awesome.”
After that evening, Reed started spending more time with me and Noah. We’d make dinner at his apartment, where Noah and Snoop would chase each other tirelessly. One weekend we drove to St. Louis and took Noah on a train ride.
And when Christmas morning came, he did get stuck peeling potatoes at the diner. I snuck peeks at him from the other side of the diner’s kitchen, where I was helping Noah mix pumpkin pie batter.
“Wonder what you’re smiling about?” Margie said with a knowing smirk.
“I can’t help it,” I admitted. Wearing jeans, a worn red flannel and a Red Sox baseball hat, Reed was a poster boy for rugged sex appeal. I loved the way his scruffy cheeks felt against my neck when he kissed me there.
We’d backed things up physically since that night when I’d left his apartment in a panic. Now we only kissed, though just that was often enough to get me hot and bothered after a few minutes.
“You two are the talk of the town, you know,” Margie said. “There were already whispers, but when everyone saw you sitting together at church last night, with Noah in his lap . . .”
Reed looked up from his work on the other side of the room and smiled at me.
“Good things happen to good people,” Margie said. “I’m happy for you, Ivy. I just hope you’ll still have time for me and Gene.”
I turned to her, my brow furrowed. “Of course I will.”
She sighed softly and put the finishing touches on a fluted pie crust. “The Lockharts are a big, close-knit family. If you become one of them—”
“Margie.” I laughed softly. “That’s not happening anytime soon. Reed and I haven’t even–” I glanced at Noah, “you know.”
“But if it does happen—”
I put my hand on her arm. “If it does happen, it won’t change anything between us. You and Gene are family to me and Noah. We love you guys.”
“We love you, too,” Margie
said, tears shining in her eyes. “Gene and I were never able to have kids, and you’re the daughter and grandson we always wanted. Keeping Noah on Friday nights . . . it’s not a chore. It’s the highlight of our week.”
“It’s the highlight of his, too.” We both looked at him, stirring the pumpkin pie puree with an intent look on his face. “You know, when I came here, I was completely alone. And now Noah and I are lucky enough to have you guys and Reed in our lives. We need all of you.”
Margie smiled. “I’m so relieved to hear that.” The doors between the kitchen and the lobby were pushed open and she glanced into the crowded room of Lovely residents.
“Did you see who’s out there?” she asked.
“Looks like half of Lovely. We’ve got more people than last year. I love how festive everyone is.”
“Walter Grieves is here. That’s a first.”
“Walter?”
“You should go say hello to him.”
I reached for a towel and dried off my hands. “I’m going to.”
We had Christmas music playing in the restaurant, but it was being drowned out by the sounds of conversation and laughter. This wasn’t just a meal for people who couldn’t afford to make a traditional Christmas dinner, but it was for anyone in Lovely who didn’t have another place to be.
Walter was perched on his usual stool, a paperback in his hands. I made my way over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Merry Christmas,” I said when he turned.
“Ivy.” He smiled. “You’re looking well.”
“Better than two days ago?” It was the last time I’d served him breakfast, since Margie had given me Christmas Eve off.
“Just in general, I suppose. You look happy.”
“I am happy. And I’m really glad you’re here.”
He shrugged. “It’s not Christmas without turkey, right?”
“True. It’s also not Christmas without the people you care about, so you’re in the right place.”
A moment of awkward silence passed.
“I need to get back to the kitchen,” I said, waving a hand at the double doors.
“Of course. I need to get back to this story.” He smiled and tapped his paperback.
[Lockhart Brothers 01.0] Deep Down Page 14
