Page 63 of Not Over You

Reed Cortez attained hunky-hero status the instant he saved me from plunging face-first into that swimming pool.

And while part of me fell head over heels at the thought of rekindling lost time with a man whose dark eyes, chiseled jawline, and cocky grin still made my stomach flutter, I couldn’t let him be my hero this time. Couldn’t let him get caught up in some Rossi reality-show-like family drama.

Jumping to my feet, I plucked our wineglasses off the table, then padded into the kitchen, hearing Reed’s footsteps behind me. “It’s a generous offer”—I carefully laid the glasses into the sink—“really, it is. But their ceremony is all the way in Barbados, and—”

“Gigi, please.” Reed gently tugged at my elbow, spinning me around to face him. When his gaze dropped to my lips for a brisk moment, I silently prayed he’d kiss me, just as I did when we were seated, knees grazing, on the couch. “Let me do this for you.”

Warmth traveled from his voice to my heart, making it trip on its own beat.

The temptation to say yes danced on the tip of my tongue, except hesitation held that specific word hostage. “Would you mind pretending to be my fiancé?”

What. The. Hell?

Obviously, I’d grown delirious. Mind broken. Out of freaking order. On the other hand, the request sounded ridiculous enough to make Reed want to opt out, toss his offer into the ocean, lost at sea for eternity.

Reed looked away for a beat, his gaze glittered with mischief as it snapped back to mine. “It’s an ingenious plan, actually.”

“Uh…” I blinked. “It is?” Something must’ve been in the wine. We’d both gone mad.

“You’ll show up with me by your side, your doting college sweetheart with whom you’ve reconnected soon after your dick of an ex left you. Trust me, it’s perfectly believable. In fact, we should announce our engagement at their—”

“Rehearsal dinner?” Crazy newfound hope flowered in my chest. Perhaps this quirky liquor-induced idea had merit. Not only would I have a plus-one, but I’d also have a hot-as-fire fiancé, living proof that their nuptials had a blatant no-fucks-given effect on me. “The rehearsal dinner is the night before their ceremony, this coming Friday, seven o’clock.”

A flicker of uncertainty painted his face. Great. He’s about to back out. “I’ve got plans Friday morning, but if I can find a flight out of JFK around noon, we can make this work.”

I leaped, literally leaped, in his arms, strong and comforting, my elation, my gratitude, flowing from head to toe. Reed Cortez had once again come to my rescue; only this time, he’d save me from drowning in a pool of why her and not me emotions.

A gleam of moonlight pierced the window; hours perched on the couch planning our ruse flew by like a bluebird sailing freely in the wind. And, if everything went according to plan, Reed would meet me at Royal Barbados Resort late Friday afternoon. Then the two of us would attend the rehearsal dinner—announcing our engagement, power through Sofie and Chad’s ceremony the following day, and fly out Sunday morning. I’d then conjure up a credible excuse, a few weeks later, to feed my family, a reason Reed and I were apart once again. The entire game plan seemed easy enough, yet, experience had taught me nothing in life came easy.

Later, when Reed mentioned that he had booked a hotel room nearby, I extended an offer for him to stay with me. It wasn’t like the two of us had to share a room; the house had plenty to choose from. Plus, despite six years passing between us, Reed was no stranger to me.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, wheeling in his suitcase.

I bit my lower lip. “Since we’ll be announcing our engagement next week, we should spend tonight getting reacquainted.”

His brows rose north. “Reacquainted?”

I playfully shoved him, the feel of his muscles more pronounced than back in college, and I wondered what else about him had gotten better over time. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Upstairs, Reed and I each claimed a room; he chose one to the right of the staircase, and I chose a larger room farther down the hall. We excused ourselves to freshen up and change into PJs before meeting in the kitchen for a cup of hot cocoa.

Reed examined me from head to toe as I plopped beside him at one of the island chairs, an impish grin sprouting on his face. “I see you still sleep in sweats and a T-shirt.”

My cheeks heated under his perusal. I’d packed for a weekend alone, not a weekend with my hot-as-sin ex-boyfriend. Duh.

I flicked my eyes over his ensemble, trying to pull back my own equally impish grin. “I see you still sleep in sweats and a T-shirt.”

“If memory serves me correctly, we never slept in anything.”

This time my entire body heated. Our nights in bed were some of the hottest. Whenever I heard a woman claim a guy rocked her world, I scoffed, thinking no one could be that good in bed.

Until Reed. He rocked my world off its fucking axis.

And if I couldn’t think of a diversion stat, I’d be diving into the ocean for a quick cool-down. “There’s a path outside that leads to the beach. Let’s say we go for a walk and then have hot cocoa when we get back?”

Reed flashed a smile that made my knees weak. “We can both use some fresh air.”

Under the starlit sky, a cool ocean breeze swirled around us while we walked along the shore, wet sand between our toes with every slow step. We bounced from topic to topic as though we’d been catapulted back to the days when we yapped on for hours without growing bored.

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