Page 33 of Under the Same Sky

“Pen’s great, actually. Alex, I don’t know all that well, but he seems to be one of the few band managers who cares more about the band than lining his pockets with their money.”

“He does, which is why he was so honest with me when I gave him the equivalent of the Spanish inquisition about Thorin. Same with Pen, she cares about the guys, about their image. In fact, I told her we’d be going to New York because when she’s not assisting Alex, she’s a stylist for some other bands.”

“I had no idea,” I reply, trying to take all this new information in. Feels like my brain might explode, and of course I’m tripped up on the fact that Thorin hasn’t dated in two years. Because out of everything Mya just said, that is what I choose to get stuck on. Mya pats my leg, and nestles deeper into the sofa. “You’re just going to have to trust me, Reese. Have I ever let you down, or made the wrong decision?”

“No, you haven’t,” I admit. But it’s not her I’m worried about.

It’s me.

And Thorin.

And me and Thorin.

Together.

Chapter Thirteen

Thorin

I’m standing in the kitchen in nothing but a towel, putting a frozen pizza in the oven. I’m not in the mood to go all out and cook, but I don’t exactly feel like getting take-out either. What I want is a quiet night, maybe catch a rerun of an NHL game or something.

The front door flies open, followed by Reese’s squeak. “Oh God! Why are you only wearing a towel?”

I glance over my shoulder, and despite my not-so-sunny disposition, the sight of Reese with her hand over her eyes, Eli strapped to her chest, and a casserole dish in her free hand has me smiling.

“Just got out the shower.” I go back to setting the oven timer.

“It’s freezing outside,” she points out, peaking between her fingers. I face her, not bothering at all to hide anything. It’s cold as shit outside, but inside it’s warm and toasty, hence the towel. “I don’t plan on going outside. Needed to get dinner going before I changed.”

“I brought you dinner,” she blurts out, holding the casserole dish out. “Mya’s homemade lasagne with jalapeños.”

I walk around the counter, and grab it from her, and when I catch a whiff, my stomach grumbles. Way better than pizza. “You can stop hiding behind your fingers, all the important parts are covered, Reese.”

She slowly drops her hand, and I watch her swallow. Her eyes fly up to mine, and the effort on her part to not look anywhere but my face is not only obvious, but also comical. She’s dressed in grey sweats, UGG boots, and an oversized hoodie, her hair a glorious mass of waves around her shoulders, and her face completely free of make-up. She blinks, and blinks, and then clears her throat. “We made too much food, so I, uh, thought you’d like some.” She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and regardless of how tense we’ve been around each other lately, my body responds. My dick stirs, and if I were to sport wood at this exact moment, the towel will do a pitiful job of hiding it. But do I care? Not so much. Do I want her to feel uncomfortable right now? Yes. Yes I do.

“Thanks,” I grumble, moving over to switch the oven off. I watch Reese squirm, and shuffle on her feet. Eli watches me, stuffing his tiny fist into his mouth. It’s my night with him, but I usually fetch him from Reese’s place. We’ve been doing a fanfuckingtastic job of avoiding each other lately, and it hasn’t bothered me much. We have our routine with Eli—he’s with me three nights a week—and we haven’t deviated from that, it’s the only thing we agree on at this point.

“Do you think you can go and change into some actual clothes?” She asks, her voice tight. “I think we, uh, need to talk about this afternoon, and I can’t do that when you’re dressed like,” she waves her hand in my general vicinity, “in nothing but a towel.”

I lean against the kitchen island, my hands on the edge. “I’m quite comfortable like this,” I tell her, gauging every reaction displayed back at me in her eyes, her posture. “You uncomfortable?”

“No,” she lies, diverting her gaze from my biceps. She looks at my hands instead, and then looks up. I smirk. God, it’s so easy to get a reaction out of her, and before now, I never thought of doing it just for the entertainment value. Admittedly, her reaction to seeing me like this does something to me too. I want her eyes on me, I want her cheeks flushed like they are now. Yeah, whatever’s going on between the two of us is fucking with my head, but I’m still a red-blooded male, and she’s not exactly sore on the eyes. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk.” As long as she keeps looking at me that way, I’m not getting dressed.

“Well, I wanted to a-apologize for what Mya sprung on you today.” Her tone hardens with conviction. She’s so damn determined to keep eye contact, it’s laughable. So to make it worse, I fold my arms across my chest, and cross one ankle over the other. I’m aware that the towel has loosened with my movements, but I don’t do anything to rectify it. If it falls, it falls. Not my problem. I’m not ashamed of my body, never have been. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ll do it.” After my conversation with Alex, I found myself agreeing with Mya—I’d be stupid to walk away from an opportunity like this. Alex made it all about the money, but he knows I’m doing it for other reasons, reasons which will not be discussed since she’s standing right in front of me. “Alex is having the contracts couriered over, and I’ll sign them.”

“You will?” Reese sounds surprised, and judging by how her blue eyes widen, its not at all what she was expecting. Maybe she was expecting a fight, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to provoke her into an argument. After my night with the guys, that godawful flashback, and her reaction to me when I found her in the barn, I’ve been itching to confront her, egg her on until she couldn’t take it anymore, just to get her to open up to me. Even if there’s yelling involved, we need to clear the air. But, I see little chance of that happening any time soon, especially if we’re going to be working together for a while. Doesn’t mean we’re going to be besties, or anything. She walks into the room and everything inside me just gets twisted until I can’t tell my ass from my goddamn elbow. I’m mad at her, but I’m not. I want to yell at her for what she did all those years ago, but I also want to leave it alone. I want to fight with her until I have all the damn answers, but I know nothing good can come of it. I can’t afford that kind of risk, either. We’re co-parenting, which means I have to behave. We’re both relegated to being civil, even if the expression she’s currently wearing screams anything but civil. Looks like she wants to bite me, and not because she’s mad. I clear my throat when I catch her gaze lingering on my abs, and the ‘v’ that leads to my dick. Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink.

“Thanks, I think.” Her brows furrow. “I mean, you can still say no, if you really don’t want to do it, I don’t want you to feel like you have to or anything.”

“I said I’d do it.” My tone is harder than I intend for it to be, but this woman drives me fucking crazy. Had I known being around her would be this damn difficult, I might have opted to move in with the guys. But, that would make things really difficult with Eli, too. See? Rock and a fucking a hard place. We stare at each other for a moment, and then she blurts out, “I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I think you did.” She opens her mouth, most likely to argue, but I cut her off. “Reese, it’s fine.”

“It’s just,” she hesitates, “Mya asked me to do a video with Eli, and talking about Ryan, and Mel upset me, and then I started thinking about the past, and then you showed up, and everything with you and me…” She’s rambling again, and part of me wants her to finish that sentence.

“You and me, what?” I take a step closer, searching her eyes for fuck knows what. A sign, maybe? That everything in my head is somehow messing with hers too?