CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

PEPPER

What the hell am I doing?

I must have asked myself that question at least a dozen times since I sat down in front of my mother's vanity. It stood patiently in my parents' bedroom as if waiting for me to take my place in front of the bejeweled mirror. Dad couldn't bear to throw away most of mom's things. This vanity was one of them. 

A floorboard creaked the moment I lowered onto the stool and I winced. The vanity called to me almost seductively to inherit what Mom left behind, while the house yelled its protest that yanked me back into reality.

I swore I'd never become my mother and yet here I was, sitting at her vanity, getting ready for a fancy party she would love to attend, with her Gucci dress laid out and waiting for me. 

Every time I shifted around on the stool, the creaking floorboard served as a constant reminder that this house, this land, needed me. I couldn't just up and leave like she did. I couldn't break the promise I made to Dad on my death bed. 

It didn't matter how happy and relaxed I felt with Reagan. How good he made me feel inside and out. It didn't even matter that a word like 'good' couldn't scratch the surface of how he made me feel. This... whatever we had couldn't last after this party ended tonight.

I came to that decision as I lined my lips in a seductive shade of red. His barging into my life was a pleasant distraction from reality, but that's all it was. After tonight, I'd have to tell him we needed to part ways. For good. 

Even if I could get away with taking a brief vacation in his world, I would never have a permanent place there. Just like a world traveler might love Paris or London enough to return several times, those cities would never become home.

Is that what you told yourself, Mom? I wondered. That you would only take a brief vacation to this fantasy world? Or did you intend to leave all along?

Who knew how calculated or impulsive her decision was? It didn't matter anymore. I had her example to learn from and I wouldn't fuck up my family legacy making the same mistake that she did. 

Even if my family was just me and Bonny at this point. 

I checked my makeup one last time before spritzing on my perfume. I barely recognized myself. That wasn't me in the mirror. It was a mask. The face of the bombshell I would pretend to be for one last night.

I might as well have fun on this final rodeo.

As I slipped out of my robe, my memory returned to Reagan's mouth on my skin. How he filled me and how raw and open I felt with him inside me and all around me. How he made me come alive like I'd always been dead up until that moment.

That never happened before and it would never happen again. 

"Nothing good ever lasts, Pepps," Dad told me in his gruff, gravelly voice. "It always ends too soon, even if it's been days, months, or even years. So hold onto that good shit for as long as you can." 

I couldn't remember what he was talking about at that time. The steak I cooked? His marriage to Mom? His high after eating one of my weed brownies?

A cold sadness chilled me. Already I felt like I was forgetting him, losing the memories I clung to like a life raft. My eyes swept across the room as I slid on Mom's dress. This house, even with all its busted outlets and creaky floors, was just one thing I needed to hold onto. 

The dress fit me like a glove. Ivory-colored satin clung to every one of my curves in the most flattering feminine way, including the daring, plunging neckline. That seemed odd to me. Mom was shorter and far more petite than me. Probably why she never wore it and left it behind. 

The only issue was the rear zipper was just out of my reach. Bonny watched with a bored expression as I twisted and convulsed trying to reach the damn thing. 

"Such a useful companion you are," I muttered at her. 

She lifted her head and looked excitedly toward the front door just as headlights began bouncing across the field. 

Through the screen door, I could see Reagan drive up in a different kind of SUV this time. A Land Rover, probably. 

Does this guy have a car to go with every outfit or something?

"Right on time." I pulled open the door just as he raised his fist to knock and promptly turned around, lifting my hair up. "Zip me up?"

I didn't expect the shiver across my skin, or his fingers skimming my bare, exposed back. I arched automatically, powerless to his touch. 

"I'd much rather take this off you," came the husky whisper along the back of my neck. 

Heat flooded me as his lips traveled in agonizingly soft kisses along my neck and my upper back. My eyelids closed heavily as I savored him, my knees feeling ready to give out  at any moment. 

He teased me relentlessly, running his fingertips just inside the dress along my sensitive ribs and the undersides of my breasts. Before I knew it, I laid my head back on his shoulder and leaned into his touch, desperate for so much more. 

And then he yanked his hands out and snapped up the zipper on my dress.

“Remind me why I’m going with you to this thing again?” I asked, shooting him a dirty look as I turned around and tried not to betray how much my body ached for him right then.

He looked so fucking handsome. 

He had gotten a haircut and a shave and smelled absolutely wonderful. No wonder his lips felt so soft and I felt drunk on the scent of him. 

His three-piece suit was charcoal gray, which somehow made his eyes look even brighter and greener.

“Because I’ll make it worth your while,” he answered, those eyes flashing mysteriously. “You look incredible, by the way.”

“So do you,” I said coolly, despite my body feeling like the furious inside of a volcano. 

Reagan’s eyes dropped and somehow, only then did I notice how thick and dark his eyelashes were. 

“I got you something,” he said with a bit of shyness to his voice and produced a small jewelry box from his pocket. 

I eyed him suspiciously.

“Reagan, I told you--”

“I know. You don’t need anything,” he said quickly. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back. Just look and tell me what you think, first.” 

Hesitantly, I accepted the jewelry box from him. No matter what was inside, I couldn’t accept it. Taking his gifts would only make it that much harder to end things tonight. 

I opened the lid with slow caution as if whatever was inside would jump out and bite me. 

My chest flooded with warmth when I saw the string of small, black stones connected by delicate chain links. The stones were roughly round in shape and no bigger than my pinkie finger nail. Each one was unique with both smooth and rough surfaces covering it. When I lifted the necklace in my fingers, they shone with subtlety and depth like the unexplored ocean. 

It was understated, dark, and just my taste. How could he possibly know?

“They’re raw black diamonds,” Reagan said softly. “I thought they would be something that fit your style.”

“They’re gorgeous,” I breathed. “Thank you.” 

I couldn’t express how perfect they were. Black diamonds didn’t shine like regular ones, so I couldn’t imagine them being very expensive. The fact that Reagan sought to find something just right for me, rather than spend a bunch of money in an attempt to impress me meant more than words could say.  

He lifted the string delicately from the box and moved behind me, holding the necklace in front of me. 

“Dark, mysterious, and with unparalleled beauty,” he said as he fastened the clasp at the back of my neck. “Just like someone I know,” he added, placing another soft kiss on my neck that I felt all the way to my clit.

I whirled around to face him, to say something biting, sarcastic and witty. Something to keep him at arm’s length despite yearning to feel him inside me again. Anything to keep him from wriggling his way into my heart with his thoughtfulness and charm. 

But before I could think of anything to say, he offered me his elbow and asked, “Shall we?”