Self-criticism was something Reagan was sadly far too familiar with. She knew she was beautiful, and always tried to portray her own brand of sassy confidence, but on the inside, she could never shake the belief that her curves were too much for most men. No matter what Callie, Anna, or the guys said to her, she could never seem to shake the inner voice that told her she was too big to be loved by the muscled, inked, badass men she was secretly attracted to. That was why Reagan had made a habit of dating the Marvins of the world. Chubby, nerdy, awkward men, who didn’t exactly turn her on, but seemed a safer bet. Too bad none of those guys had ever treated her the way she wanted. Even her ex, a scrawny accountant with bad B.O. had cheated on her with his secretary, and the man she briefly dated before that had dropped so many hints about her weight, she finally had enough and kicked him out.
Reagan fully believed that everyone deserved happiness, and hoped she would find it someday. Yet still, she struggled with her confidence. And it wasn’t just her body image that was the stumbling block in her journey toward happiness. Reagan questioned her ability to achieve most of her dreams in life, doubted her capability to be successful, and feared failure more than anything else. That was why she stayed in a job that she was miserable at, working as an executive assistant at an investment firm in Portland. Her not-so-secret ambition was to escape the corporate jungle and open a bakery specializing in her brownies. The experience of making Jake and Callie’s brownie cake for the wedding had shown her the possibilities, she just needed to find the courage—and the start-up money—to make the dream a reality.
Walking into her bathroom, she ran the hot water into her soaker tub, added some bubble bath, and sighed. The roller coaster of her emotions was exhausting. She was drained from the push-pull of desire and fear, hope and doubt. With a shake of her head, she tried to dispel the last of the turmoil that had built over the evening. She climbed into the steaming water and sank down into the rose-scented bubbles.
“Enough. Time to stop thinking about Chase McCormick and his sinful body, deadly kiss, magnetic eyes…” her voice trailed off, echoing through the bathroom. “Damnit, NO. I will not let him break my heart. Come on, Reagan, you’re smarter than this.”
With a huff, she let her body go lower until everything except her head was submerged in the warm water. Her habit of talking to herself continued, as her inner voice took over and asked the question she was really wondering:He must be messing with me. But why?
* * *
Chase tried to be subtle adjusting his hard cock as he walked down the street to where he had parked his car. Reagan Grant aroused him, intrigued him, captivated him in a way no other woman ever had. He was baffled that she truly did not seem to believe that he could be—and was—attracted to her. Her curves went on for days, and he longed to get his hands all over her luscious body. But he had to get past her walls first.
The warmth from the day still radiated from the sidewalk, and he was glad he had discarded his suit jacket and was only wearing his dress shirt and pants. With his sleeves rolled up, his arm tattoos were on full display, and his clothes fit him well enough to show off the solid yet trim muscle of his torso, earning him some appreciative glances from women as he stopped beside his car, an unassuming, small SUV. He didn’t even notice the attention, never had. Since he had moved to Portland just over a year ago, after spending several years driving around the country, trying to shed the skin of his former life, Chase had done his best to blend in and not give off the edgy musician vibe that might tip people off about his true identity. He had bulked up with muscle, changed his hair, removed some piercings, and shaved off his beard. All in an attempt to seem part of the more relaxed Portland music scene.
Chase McCormick had left the ghost of superstar drummer Chase Thomas in his past, hopefully forever. His old life had been filled with sky-high success, and rock-bottom failure. As a member of a very high-profile rock band, he had experienced the best of fame, and the worst—that seedy underbelly where drugs and sex were the commodities of choice and the pressure to participate was always heavy. Chase wanted to start over, away from the drama-filled music scene of New York. Portland had felt like the perfect place to still indulge his love of music, but in a much more chill way, without the lure of the dark side of the industry.
Playing at Jake and Ryan’s pub, The Lucky Strike, was exactly what he had wanted. Instead of drums, Chase had picked up a guitar, and sang. Mostly covers, and a few new original songs. Sometimes by himself, sometimes with a few other guys backing him up. It was relaxed and easy, and fun. Exactly the way he wanted music to be. The friendships he had formed with Jake, Ryan, Callie, Anna, Noah, and of course, Reagan were an unexpected bonus. Wanting more than friendship from Reagan wasn’t anything new, he had been fighting his attraction to her all year. First, because she was getting over a breakup with an asshole ex who had cheated on her for god only knows what reason, and then because the ‘stay back’ vibes she’d sent him were loud and clear. Not to mention Chase’s worry that if he let a woman get too close, they would figure out who he was. And then what would happen? Could Reagan, or anyone else, look past his mistakes and see him for who he was today? Or would he lose everything. Up until now, Chase hadn’t been prepared to take the risk.
But something had changed tonight. Seeing her in that dress, all dolled up for Jake and Callie’s wedding, Chase no longer had the strength to resist his attraction to Reagan. Jake and Ryan had told him they were certain Reagan was into him, but he had never acted on that information, exercising the same restraint that had made it possible for him to stay clean for years. Until, that is, tonight when he found himself holding her in his arms, smelling her sweet scent, an alluring combination of apples and honeysuckle. There was no way he could resist kissing her.
Then she had fled. Without a second thought he had followed, getting her address from Ryan who had apparently seen everything. For a moment, at her apartment when he saw her talking with her neighbor he wondered if that was why she had pushed him away. Maybe she was in a relationship. But he couldn’t deny the heat that flared in her eyes when she’d seen him, nor could he deny the intensity of their chemistry in that brief kiss they had shared. He needed more, he needed her.
Now he just had to get her to see that she needed him too.
Chapter 2
Reagan spent the next day at home, recovering from the previous day’s excitement. She had spent a restless night, tossing and turning, unable to settle into a deep sleep. As a result, she was tired and confused, and without her best friend to talk to. Callie and Jake had headed off on a short honeymoon, which meant Reagan was left without her main confidante. She could have called Anna, who was quickly becoming a close friend, but Callie understood Reagan in a way no one else did. So, she had to sort this out on her own for now.
She was on her couch, mindlessly watching some trashy reality show and snacking on her weakness, cheese popcorn, in an attempt to distract her thoughts away from Chase, when her cellphone rang. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was her older brother Simon. With a smile, she picked up the phone.
“Simon! Long time no talk, big brother,” she said cheerfully.
“Hey, sis, how’s my best girl?” Simon replied. In the background, Reagan could hear his partner Daniel chime in, “Hi, Reags, we miss you! When are you coming to visit? I need a dancing partner; you know your brother has two left feet.”
Reagan laughed. “Right and I’m so much better? You need my mom, not me.”
Simon and Daniel were a perfect pair in every way, except one—Daniel was a fiery Latino man who loved to go out and dance, and Simon was as clumsy as could be. Neither Reagan nor Simon had inherited their mother’s talent for dancing. Betty Grant was a former ballerina, who had spent a year touring with The California Ballet Company before falling in love with her husband and moving to Oregon. She was a beautiful, statuesque woman who adored her family fiercely. When Reagan was a child, she had dreamed of following in her mother’s footsteps, and so her mother had signed her up for ballet class. Unfortunately, Reagan had inherited her father’s genes, which gave her a strong but curvy body. So, when the teacher informed them both that Reagan would never succeed in dance because she was “awkward and heavy,” Betty had pulled Reagan from the school, and never pushed her into dance again. Still, the damage was done, and that experience had begun the downward spiral of Reagan’s self-confidence. Not just in her body, but in herself and all of her dreams.
Despite her mother’s love and encouragement, Reagan never found pleasure in sports. She had internalized the message of being awkward and heavy so deeply within her soul, that athletic endeavors never came naturally to her. Callie had been the one to push her into learning to run and practice yoga, and finally Reagan had found physical activity that she enjoyed. She was in perfect health, even if her body shape did not conform to society standards.
“Por favor, chica, we need you and your brownies.” Daniel had clearly taken the phone from Simon, as his accented voice came on the line.
Reagan giggled at his pleading words. “Okay, fine, I’ll come up to visit as soon as I can. Now, can I have my brother back?”
“Hey, are you saying I’m not yourhermano?”was the indignant reply.
“Of course you are, you’re my brother from another mother, Daniel, and I love you. You know that.”
“Okay, that’s better.Besos, chica.”
Reagan rolled her eyes with a soft sigh. She loved Daniel and he was so good for Simon. But she would be lying if she didn’t also admit to feeling a thread of jealousy over their relationship. It seemed everyone around her had found love. Yet here she was, still alone.
Simon’s warm voice came back on the line. “Hey, Reags, sorry about that, sometimes I think he loves you more than he loves me.” He chuckled then continued, “But I’m thrilled you’re thinking of coming up for a visit. I’ll be headed down your way sometime in the next few weeks for family dinner, but you know we love having you here.”
Reagan was filled with warmth at her brother’s words. They had a truly special relationship, not filled with sibling rivalry, but affection and respect.
“I’ll look at my schedule on Monday and let you know when I can come. I’m guessing you had a real reason for calling, what’s up?”
