Page 37 of Off Camera
“Come on in.” Reid steps back so I can slide into the foyer. “You can leave your shoes there if you want, or keep them on. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
I look at his mismatched socks half-hidden under his jeans. There are penguins riding sleds on the left and tiny snowmen on the right. “I think you might be in the wrong season. It’s still pushing eighty degrees outside.”
He glances down and chuckles. “June gave them to me for Christmas last year. I grabbed them in a hurry. I am ready for cooler weather, though. I can’t stand the heat.”
“Really? I love the heat.” I kick off my shoes and set them neatly next to a pair of black Converse. “But that’s the Floridian in me.”
“Were you born and raised down south?” Reid asks, and I follow him to the kitchen.
“I am. I drank orange juice for breakfast every morning and I grew up thinking you had to run in a zigzag line to escape an alligator chasing you. That’s a total myth, by the way.”
“You learn something new every day. You’re probably a terrible driver, aren’t you?”
“Guilty.” I smile. “Will you make fun of me if I tell you I was also Miss Florida?”
He glances at me over his shoulder. “You were?”
“I paid my way through college by playing a princess down at one of the theme parks outside Orlando. I stayed on that path with pageantry.” I shrug and lean against the counter. “It was fun.”
“I would’ve guessed something in modeling or acting. But a beauty queen? That’s impressive.” Reid bends over the stove and stirs a pot of sauce. “What was your talent?”
“Ballet. I started dancing when I was a little girl.”
“No wonder you were so smooth on the dance floor the other night. I can’t find a rhythm to save my life.”
I laugh. “You did just fine.”
“I had a good partner.” He gestures to the sink stacked with dishes and the mountain of paper towels sitting on the granite island. “Sorry for the mess. It doesn’t usually look like this. I, uh, wanted to do something nice for you, and that something turned into an Italian tragedy, almost-burnt cookies, and flowers that have somehow disappeared.”
“This is for me?”
“You said you were going to have a busy week, so I thought you could take a load off for a while. Dinner and dessert are covered. Well. Hopefully. This place might go up in flames in the next ten minutes and the chicken might be inedible. If that happens, save yourself. Don’t worry about me.”
I push off the counter and walk over to him. I kiss his cheek. “Thank you very much.”
Reid sets down the spoon and slides his hands around my waist. “Is this okay?”
“What, the bomb that went off in here?”
He shakes his head. “Me touching you.”
“You touched me plenty the other night.”
That blush is back, and he dips his chin. “I meant touching you when we’re not in a hotel bed.”
“Or a hallway….” I arch a brow, and he grins. “It’s more than okay,” I tell him, becauseokayseems like a silly word to describe the way my heart is hammering in my chest. “You can keep doing it if you want.”
Reid reaches past me. I expect him to lift me up and set me down next to the half-diced onions on the cutting board. I expect him to hike my skirt up my thighs and drop to his knees. I’m surprised when he hands me a bouquet of sunflowers.
“Found them. These are for you,” he murmurs. “I picked them up at the farmers’ market around the corner. I saw thetattoo on your finger, and I thought they might be your favorite flower.”
“It is my favorite flower,” I say, touching the petals. “These are beautiful.”
“I’ll put them in a vase until you head home. Then they’re yours.”
“Thank you, Reid. That’s really sweet of you.”
He kisses my forehead, then pulls away, cursing when he spies the sauce boiling over. “Could you grab me a paper towel?”
