I finally dry my hands off and turn. He’s leaned up against the bar. That piece of wood is the only thing separating us right now.
I raise my chin. “Can I help you?”
“You didn’t answer your phone,” he practically snarls, but the lines on his face show exhaustion, not anger. There are dark circles under his eyes. Did he sleep at all?
“Hmm, must’ve been on silent.”
His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply. “I didn’t know if you made it home safe last night, or made it into work today.”
“Well”—I gesture to our surroundings—“you got your answer.”
He purses his lips, biting back whatever retort he wants to say. I almost wish he wouldn’t. His hands are behind his back, clearly hiding something from me. I try to peer around his large frame, but he shifts.
I arch my brows at him, waiting.
With a resigned swoosh of his arm, he swings a bag of clementines between us. “I brought you a snack.”
Damn my stupid heart for fluttering. He remembered my favorite snack. My stomach growls at the sight since I’ve been too upset to eat anything today.
I work to keep my expression neutral as I take the bag from him, but he’s sure to brush his fingers against mine when he hands it off. That small contact sends sparks through my blood.
Damn him too.
“Thank you,” I say cooly. “Is that all you came here for?”
“I wanted to talk to you. In person.”
“Well, I’m busy working.”
He glances pointedly around the relatively empty bar. When he looks back at me, I simply cross my arms. “Alright, well can you take a break?”
“I don’t get a break for another hour.”
His jaw ticks. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’ll wait.” He walks stiffly over to an armchair near the back ofthe place and plops down. I suppress a grin at the awkward way his large frame fits on the small piece of furniture.
Tucking the clementines away, I go back to cleaning the pumps to our coffee syrups, feeling his gaze on me the entire time. I could take a break now. Hell, we could talk while I work. It’s not busy enough and there’s no one close enough to overhear. But I want to make him wait. Make him sweat it out a little longer.
And yes, maybe it’s a test to see if he’ll stick around, or storm off in anger.
But he sits there. For the entire hour that I make myself look busy, he waits. With each minute that passes, I feel my anger dwindling to a low burn rather than a raging fire like last night.
When an hour passes, I call into the back to Kevin that I’m taking my break. Once he comes out front, I nod my head toward Reid, beckoning him toward the door. He immediately follows me outside and we step into the alley. I tuck my sweatshirt tighter against the chill in the air, and Reid steps in front of me to help block the wind.
It ruffles his hair, mussing the strands and giving him an effortless beauty. His black hoodie doesn’t hide the tension running through him. It’s apparent in the cut of his jaw, the clench of his fists.
I cross my arms, partly due to the cold, and partly to protect myself. I’ve been dreading this conversation since the moment I left his house last night.
“Well,” I say. “What did you want to talk about?”
“About last night.”
“What about it?”
He sucks on his teeth, and I know I shouldn’t keep trying to bait his anger. But I can’t help it.I’mstill angry. Well, mostly hurt, but the anger is there alongside it. Andpart of me wants to push him to see how he’s going to handle this.
He exhales a steadying breath. “I still don’t know when I should’ve told you about me and Jane hooking up, but I’m sorry that it caught you off guard like that. And that I wasn’t there for you afterwards to reassure you that there’s nothing lingering there between any of us. I should’ve done a better job of that.”
I blink in surprise. Sure, it’s not the most grand apology ever, but it’s more than I was expecting. The wordsI’m sorrydon’t really exist in Reid’s vocabulary.
