Chapter Seven
Robin
This part of town is getting way too small for comfort. Of all the motorists driving by, Reid has to be the one to see me and stop. As he jumps out of the driver’s seat, the desire to hop in my truck and leave comes over me, but I stopped here for a reason. This very spot is supposed to be one of the best places to get a picture-perfect shot of the sun setting over Mount Charleston to the west of us. Barclay and I want to capture that image for the cover of our demo of a song called Stars and Sunsets. I’m not leaving until I get what I need, even if it means putting up with Reid yet another time.
Putting my phone into my pocket, I turn toward Reid, who’s striding over to me with his usual air of cocky arrogance. He stops a couple of feet from me, sporting a smirk I’d like to slap off his face.
“Have you finished your gig at Whiskey Jacks already?” he asks.
“Yes. We had an early time slot today.”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, darlin’,” he croons, looming over me at a time that I should be focused on getting my shot.
“I’d say it’s pretty easy to make that happen.”
“Yeah? How?”
“You could start by getting back in your car and driving away as though you never saw me.”
“I was just thinking that I’d like to do something else entirely,” he says.
Stepping closer, he raises his eyebrows, and the red hues of the remaining sunlight start to cast shadows across his perfectly straight nose and sharp jaw. Dammit, why does he have to be so distractingly gorgeous? And why does he smell like he just slaved away at a barbecue? And hell, why am I picturing him without a shirt? Good lord, I need to get a grip. Taking a step backward causes my upper back to hit the tailgate of my truck. He smiles, as though he has me where he wants me—cornered, boxed in, and semi-paralyzed by his charming smile.
“You should go,” I squeak.
“I stopped to see if you needed help.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re not stranded here?”
“I’m not, so please don’t expect me to give you a medal for having a hero complex. You’re not my white knight. I don’t need anything from you, Reid.”
“Are you sure about that?” He stretches his hands out on each side of me and grips the tailgate. Now I’m really boxed in.
Swallowing the massive lump in my throat, I crane my neck to look up at his face. “Positive,” I say in as firm a tone as I can manage. “Please just go. All I want to do is take a picture and be on my way.”
“Fine, but I think I’ll wait for you to leave first.”
“Why?”
“In case you change your mind. Or if you need my help.”
“Like hell I will,” I mutter under my breath as he turns to go back to his SUV, but it must be loud enough for him to hear. And he does, because he looks back at me with an ever-broadening smile, as though I’ve just given him a challenge.
Reid stops short, pivots around and returns to face me. This time, he comes in close. Too close. He’s inches from me, with a devilish gleam in his eyes as he leans toward me, giving me another dizzying whiff of his aftershave that smells like citrus and woods, and smoky barbecue. Christ, if he stays here for another second I’ll end up doing something I regret for a long time.
Then he steps even closer, causing my knees to weaken. My breathing becomes even more shallow. I’m frozen in one spot, my core spreading heat and need through me as his large, calloused hand slides up my arm, glides over my shoulder, and comes to rest at the nape of my neck. My eyes drift closed. Reid’s lips brush against mine for a split second before I find my strength and push his smoldering hot chest away.
“Don’t ever try that again,” I bark. “Why the hell did you do that?”
It’s a dumb question, like asking why birds fly. He’s a dog. But the truth is I shouldn’t blame him. I’m the one who stood there long enough to let him kiss me.
“Because you wanted me to,” he answers.
“You dated my sister. Don’t you see how wrong that kiss was?”
“It felt right to me, and I’m sure if we didn’t stop, it would have felt even more right.”
“You’re so disgusting, Reid. Can you please leave now? I’ve got things to do.”
“How about you let me take you to dinner?” he asks. As if. “Though, if you accept, I’m liable to want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I don’t joke about things like kissing a beautiful woman,” he says, taking a step closer again. “But if you want to skip dinner, I can make do with the here and now.”
“Leave. Me. Alone.” I press my hands against his chest, giving him a sharp shove, which does precious little in terms of giving me space. All it does is remind me of the hard, tight muscles lying under his dress shirt, waiting to be touched.
He rounds out my dreadful fantasy by flexing his muscles so I can feel all that sexy, sinewy matter as it bunches.
Dammit.
He’s teasing me.
And it’s working.
A motorcycle roars by on the other side of the road, shocking me back to my senses. Pulling my hands back, I fish my phone from my pocket and move out of his grasp to the side of my truck. The sun is in the perfect spot. I begin snapping pictures of the horizon, now streaked with purple, gold and orange. I need my phone’s HD camera to land me one good shot.
I’m fully aware that Reid has not moved from where he just stood, but it’s a free country. I can’t make him leave, and so help me God, I’ll be damned if I let him stop me from doing what I came here to do. Within minutes, the sunset is over and darkness starts to creep in. I’ve taken at least thirty pictures. One of them must be good enough, and if it’s not, I’ll come back in a few days and try again—maybe without the uninvited audience of one.
“You’re still here,” I say, eyes narrowed as I turn to Reid.
“Yup. I told you I prefer to wait.”
“For what?”
“This road isn’t always safe at night.”
“Probably because you’re on it. I told you I can take care of myself…and if by some fluke I did need help, you’re the last person I’d ask.”
I push past him to get to my driver’s side.
“You’re cute when you’re upset.” He follows me to my driver’s side door.
“And you’re amazingly good at getting under my skin.”
“I’d like to do more than that some time.”
I slam my door shut and turn the key in the engine. Too bad the window is lowered, because he rests an elbow on the door and flashes me a grin. “Have yourself a good night, Robin.”
“I hope you don’t, Reid,” I tell him, and it comes out hollow and cold. It’s exactly how I want it to sound, but a tiny part of me feels bad for being so rude.
He shakes his head. “Get home safe,” he says, and returns to his SUV.
His engine starts, but he doesn’t leave until I drive off. I make a left turn at the next intersection, and Reid makes a right. Good. He’s gone. I still can’t tell if he stopped to help or just to get a reaction out of me. Either way, I need to keep my distance from this man.