CHAPTER 4
REESE
This has been a strange walk. The moment I opened the door and saw Anderson standing there, poised to knock, I braced myself for him to start yelling. Okay, he hadn’t yelled before, but I was ready to be berated. I wasn’t looking forward to it and was instantly pissed at myself for even considering he was done complaining because of a five-day hiatus.
I should have known better, but I wanted to believe in the silver lining and the rainbow instead of the rain clouds.
I was kicking myself when I saw the anger etched on Anderson’s face. I don’t know what happened, but the harshness of his complaints never came. Yeah, he’s had plenty to say, but it wasn’t the same way he’d come at me before.
We’ve actually talked instead of him speaking down to me. It’s a nice and welcome change. Maybe I softened him with my apology.
It’s not as if I don’t care he needs to work. I do care and I do get it. I hate that he needs to write, and Boomer is getting in the way of it. I’m not sure what solution we can come up with, but we need to do something.
I look at him out of the corner of my eye and give into the curiosity I’ve had bubbling inside of me from the moment I met him. “What do you write?”
The smirk on his lips has my steps faltering for a moment, but I think I cover it without too much issue. Maybe. “Guess,” he prompts me.
I’m sure I look shocked. Because I am. He almost seems…playful. It’s a new look on him and I’m not sure how to feel about it or what to think about it. I like this side of him.
Maybe I like this side of him a little too much.
This seems like closer to who he really is. I can’t help but wonder, as I stall a little, trying to figure out what kind of books he writes, why he didn’t show this side of himself from the start. Maybe he’s just manipulating me because his complaints weren’t working, but I get the feeling that’s not accurate.
There’s a tease to my voice when an answer pops out of my mouth before I can really think it through, “Self-help?”
Anderson freezes for a moment before he barks out a laugh. It sounds a little rusty, but it’s still a beautiful sound. It reminds me of vintage hinges on chain link fences when kids could run in the sunshine and knew at dusk it was time to go home.
Which is kind of silly. I shake the thought away, including how comfortable and at home it makes me feel, and soak up the moment for what it is. He’s never let his guard down before and I need to get the most of it before he puts his walls back in place.
“No Reese,” there’s something close to affection in his voice when he says my name and I barely stop myself from shivering, “not self-help.” I make a motion with my hand, wanting him to tell me. He puffs up his chest slightly, “I write mystery novels.”
I gasp, “You do? All the who-done-it, Sherlock Holmes, twist after twist kind of stuff?”
“Yeah, all that kind of stuff.” There’s something in his tone which has me looking up at him and then stopping in my tracks. He mirrors me and reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind my hear, the pads of his fingertips brushing along my cheek as he does. His voice is softer, “How long have you had Boomer?”
Stunned by the question and unsure of where it’s coming from, I answer on instinct, “Six months.”
“Why did you get him?” I blink up at him and I must look surprised as fuck at his question. He shakes his head and his shoulders slump. “Call it curiosity if you must, but I think,” he pauses and looks over my head for a moment before his steel gray eyes come back to meet mine, “I think I might have made some assumptions about you and your dog, and I’d like to get to the truth of things.”
“Are you sure you’re not a reporter then?” The question is a little flippant, but I deliver it with brightness in my tone. It’s my defense mechanism and it’s worked for a long time.
However, by the way Anderson’s eyes are boring into mine, it’s not going to work on him.
“I was lonely,” the whispered words float through the hush which has surrounded us, something built on magic and tendrils I can’t see, but can feel as they wrap around us.
His palm is warm when he cups my cheek. When I nuzzle into it, I’ve gone so far past reality and wound up right in surreal. “Why were you lonely, Sunshine? I thought you only shined brightly.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “The sun is sometimes obscured by clouds, sometimes white fluffy ones which give shade and other times, they’re storm clouds.” I open my eyes and meet his, the same color clouds I’m imagining rolling through staring back at me. “Just because I’ve learned to look for the good, for the silver linings, doesn’t mean there isn’t any pain in my past.”
“Reese,” he breathes out my name like a feathered apology. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but,” his eyebrows furrow together and he lets out a low, remorseful chuckle. “I’m sorry. You don’t have a damn reason to trust me or anything I say to you.”
“Did you think I was some airhead who didn’t care about you or anyone else?” His eyes widen and I know I hit the mark. I’m, surprisingly, not offended. I should be. I would be with almost anyone else, but as I look at Anderson, I can see the stress etched in his features. I can see a shadow of pain from his own past in his eyes. I shrug one shoulder. “I should be yelling at you and railing against you, but I kind of get it. If I could stop Boomer from barking and annoying you, I would. I can see you’re under a lot of pressure and I didn’t realize how much. For that, I’m sorry as well.”
Anderson’s other hand comes up and tangles in my hair as his thumb brushes right under my lower lip. His hands are so big, I get the sudden vision of watching him write something beautiful, a pen in his hand and paper absorbing every vivid word. Not something which would normally turn me on, but I find the thought makes my breath hitch.
It could also be caused by the man holding me with possession in his touch taking a step closer to me, erasing the distance between us.
“Don’t apologize to me, Reese,” his voice has dropped to a rasp. “I made assumptions. I was wrong.”