Page 4 of Never the Same

I blinked my way up from my glass to the man who’d now darlin’ed me out of nowhere. Perhaps parallel universes were real and I’d tripped into one. Because no, Mr. Tough Guy never used terms of endearment toward me unless he meant them as an insult, like with ma’am. Nor did he let his accent slip through when talking to me—not ever.

I may have done my research on him back in February, along with digging into the backgrounds of the rest of his teammates at Delta Shield. Not to be nosy and invasive (mostly not), but to ensure they were safe, since they were new to Audrey’s life. She’d only learned she had a half brother at Thanksgiving, so I had no choice but to protect her.

“On second thought,” Reed continued since the proverbial cat still had my tongue, “I like you this way. Stay quiet. It works for you.”

Ranger came over and curled up on top of my feet beneath the table.

I nudged the second glass Reed’s way, and he glared at me as if I’d asked him to play a game of Russian roulette.

“This B and E habit of yours is starting to concern me,” he added wryly. He took a seat, stretching out one long leg, trying to pull off casual, when it was clear the man was anything but comfortable in my presence.

“I’m sure that’s the least offensive thing you find about me.”

The side of his mouth hitched at my words, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he brought the lip of the glass to his nose and inhaled.

The bourbon caught the kitchen light as I raised my own glass, a swirl of amber and oak that smelled like old wood and quiet nights. The scent alone nearly tugged me backward in time.

“This will be the most expensive thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

That was almost too easy for me to make a joke, so I held off and stole a quick look toward his living room, remembering the last time I broke in and went through his books, and now . . .

“Pappy Van Winkle’s Twenty-Year Family Reserve,” he said on a sigh. “Damn, this is good.”

I set down the glass and cupped it with both hands, resting my forearms on the table. “My grandfather used to drink this brand,” I said somberly. “I called him Pappy because of it.”

Memories flooded in like smoke under a door. My grandfather’s manor smelling of leather and peat, his voice as warm as the heat from a hearth fire.

“Pappy, why’d you decide to adopt a son? Because Mum had already moved out and Nanna died? Were you lonely?”

My grandfather had slid the book he’d been holding back onto the shelf and turned toward me while removing his glasses. “He needed someone to take care of him, and he’s our family now.”

“You doin’ okay?” Reed’s words blindsided me, rougher and more sincere than I’d ever heard from him, drawing me out of the past.

I opened my eyes, lifted my glass as a shield, and forced my mouth into a smile before he could see through the cracks and discover there was more than one layer to me.

“I’m fine.” I tossed back my drink, letting it burn my throat and chest, then added more bourbon to the glass.

He didn’t call me out on my obvious lie. I rarely let my mask slip and fall like I’d nearly done now.

Instead of pressing me to talk, which wouldn’t be like him to do anyway, we sat in silence and drank. Just us, the ticking of a wall clock, and the slight breathy sounds from Ranger filling the space.

It wasn’t until my phone vibrated that I finally spoke. “It’s Audrey.”

Audrey: I’m home and Chase is asleep. Where are ya?

Me: At the Grump’s house.

Audrey: That’s your SUV I saw when I drove by? I got my hopes up he was finally on a date or something.

Audrey: Unless you’re his date?

I looked over my phone at him. He was skimming his index finger around the rim of his glass, his eyes set on the bourbon and not me.

Me: Definitely not. I’ll be over shortly.

Audrey: Take your time.

I started to put away my phone when a notification buzzed. My spine went stiff at the message, even if it was the news I’d been waiting on for days.