Page 142 of Holding On To Good

He raised his eyebrows. “To pretend it didn’t happen?”

“To process” —she waved her hand in an all-encompassing gesture— “things.”

Things. That was one way to describe what had been the top sexual experience of his life.

He nodded. He’d give her time. He had to.

He didn’t have any other choice.

“I’ll see you Monday,” she said, a clear dismissal and, because she knew him well, a warning for him not to seek her out tomorrow.

Like he’d been planning.

He stepped aside and opened the door for her.

But she didn’t leave. Instead, she leaned forward slowly, hesitantly, as if she fought some inner battle with herself. Heart thudding heavily, the sound echoing in his ears, he remained motionless, afraid the slightest twitch, the blink of an eye, would send her running.

She kissed him, a brief, soft kiss, her lips clinging to his for two heartbeats before she quickly ducked into the car and turned on the engine with one hand, pulling the door shut with the other. He stood in the middle of the dark, deserted road and watched her drive away, tracking her taillights until they disappeared into the night.

He could still taste her on his lips. Her scent clung to his fingers and beard.

Shoving his hands into his front pockets he rocked back on his heels and thought about that last kiss.

And grinned.

Yeah, he’d give her time.

Because she’d given him something, too, with that kiss.

She’d given him hope.

Chapter Twenty-Six

There came a time in every girl’s life when she had to face facts. Accept reality.

Admit the truth.

For Verity, that time came at one thirty-three a.m. Saturday morning while she sat on Michael Margolis’s open tailgate, staring blindly at the campfire, the sounds of her friends laughing and whooping it up—as if every last one of them were having the time of their freaking lives—surrounding her.

Fact: She’d told Reed specifically that she’d be here tonight.

Reality: He wasn’t coming.

Truth: He didn’t want to see her again.

Which would’ve been all well and good and not a problem if she hadn’t spent the entire night looking for him. Jumping every time the crunch of gravel under tires announced someone’s arrival. Whirling around whenever she heard a deep, male voice that could, maybe, possibly be his.

If her heart hadn’t raced with equal parts nerves and anticipation just at the mere thought of him sauntering up to her with that half-smirk, half-scowl on his face, as if he knew full well that she was totally and completely enamored with him.

And it pissed him off.

And scared him to death.

Something they had in common.

She sighed. Picked up her can of soda and took a sip.

Fact: She’d spent the entire night hoping and wishing Reed would show.

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