“I really hate how you act like you know me.”

“Never said I did, but you’re not hard to read, Reagan.” Leaning closer, I stared at her hazel eyes and whispered, “I also never said I didn’t want to know you.”

She inhaled softly, and neither of us moved as we continued staring at each other. Our faces were close enough that I could smell the mint from her gum, and I had to lock my body so I wouldn’t pull her closer so I could see if her lips were as soft as they looked. This is bad. She’s Hudson’s sister. She also had over six years’ worth of baggage that came in the form of not trusting any man.

Swallowing hard, I looked away and said, “You should probably go talk to Jason’s mom.”

When I glanced back at her, she was blinking slowly, like coming out of a daze. Then again . . . she also said Hudson had been trying to set us up . . . She didn’t say anything as she turned away, so I pulled her back.

“If you do let him go, and you don’t want to be alone tonight, your brother will know how to get ahold of me.”

“Don’t wait around for that to happen.” I couldn’t hold back my smile at the way her voice came out all breathy.

“I’ll see you tonight, Reagan,” I assured her as I took a few steps back.

“I said don’t.”

“I know what you said. Have a good rest of your day.” With a wink, I turned and started the run back to my condo.

She didn’t make any more protests, and I didn’t stop smiling the entire way home. From what I’d seen of her, I wouldn’t put it past her to ignore me just to spite me. But I’d also seen her reaction to me, and because of that, I spent the rest of the day doing nothing but thinking of her, and waiting for a call.

Chapter Three

Reagan—­August 20, 2010

I PACED AROUND my apartment for thirty minutes after I’d dropped Parker off. It wasn’t my first night without him, but it was the first he’d be with someone other than my parents. And even those nights were rare. I was seriously considering going back to pick him up, but he’d been so excited to go . . . I couldn’t do that to him.

I so did not want Parker growing up having me as his only friend. Those mom-­and-­son pairs who were so close the guy ended up not dating when he got older because he was such a momma’s boy were creepy, and I didn’t want that for my son. I loved having our nights alone at home, but I wanted him to have a fun life, I wanted him to have friends like Jason, and girlfriends later . . . way later. I just hadn’t realized he was old enough for this stage yet.

Sitting on the couch, I turned on the TV and stared at it, not paying attention to what was on, as my legs continued to bounce up and down. Glancing at the clock, I groaned when I saw it was only five. This was going to be the longest night ever.

My eyes kept darting to my phone sitting on the coffee table, and I tried to think of someone to call. Anyone. Well, anyone other than Coen.

I didn’t need to call Keegan to get Coen’s number; Keegan had sent it to me early this week. His text had said it was in case of an emergency, but I wasn’t dumb, I knew why he’d sent it to me. I just hadn’t considered using it.

Until now.

Standing quickly, I walked into my kitchen and stared into the pantry, and then the fridge, looking for something to make for dinner. But I wasn’t seeing anything. I was freaking the f**k out because my son was having his first sleepover! Slamming the refrigerator door shut, I went back to pacing around my living room for another few minutes as I nervously played with the ends of my long hair.

I considered calling my mom for about five seconds before I realized how ridiculous that was. I’m twenty-­two. I have a free night for the first time in a long time, and I want to call my mom? When did I turn into an old lady?

Walking to the coffee table, I bent and grabbed at my phone, determined to call one of my friends. But instead I was opening up Keegan’s texts and scrolling up until I reached the number. Before I could talk myself out of it, I pressed the number and hit CALL.

“Hello?”

“Distract me,” I blurted out.

There were a few seconds of silence, before his deep voice asked, “Duchess?”

Goose bumps covered my body, and I swear to God I had to stop myself from whimpering. This morning replayed through my head, the way his lean, muscled body had been covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The way his chest had felt under my hand. His tattoos.

I hated tattoos. Hated them. But I’d wanted to trace every one of his. I’d wanted to study every picture and word covering his arms and chest. I’d wanted to see what the letters on his fingers spelled out. I’d wanted to watch his tattooed hands as they touched me.

Bad. Bad. So bad. Calling him was the wrong thing to do.

Clearing my throat, I tried to put force behind my words, but I failed miserably. “I’ll hang up if you call me that again.”

He laughed softly. “Reagan.”

“Yes?”

Another laugh and I had to sit down on the couch when my legs started shaking. “You’re the one who called me. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Oh, um. I need you to distract me.”

“Parker go to his friend’s house?”

I made some sort of affirmative noise, worried that if I said it out loud, I’d start freaking out all over again.

“Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“No!” I shouted, and scrambled to find something to say. “I—­I just—­can I just come over?”