Reed smirked. “That would be because I told Lorena not to offer you any food since I’d already figured out that you were a fake.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
“Please also dress accordingly. Nothing so tight that it’s distracting.”
I took offense to that comment. I was always dressed appropriately for work. “Distracting? What’s that supposed to mean? And . . . distracting for who?”
Whispers: Interactive StoriesMake your own choices and decide what happens next!
Reed cleared his throat. “Never mind. Just wear something like you’re wearing now. It’s a workday and not a day trip to the Hamptons for fun. And . . . it would be whom.”
“Who? What?”
“You said, ‘distracting for who.’ It would be ‘whom.’”
I rolled my eyes. “You went to one of those all-boys prep schools, didn’t you?”
Reed ignored my question. “There’s a glossy prospectus on the property in the file. You should become acquainted with the amenities so that you can answer any questions that might arise if I’m not available.”
I jotted down a note. “Okay. Anything else?”
He reached into his pants pocket and took out his cell. “Program your number in, in case there’s a change of plans.”
I started to type.
First name: Charlotte
Last name: Darling
Company: I inwardly smirked as I ruminated over typing in Deez Nuts but then thought better of it. At least I thought I’d inwardly smirked.
“What are you doing wrong?” Reed craned his neck, peering over to look at his phone.
“Nothing.”
“Then why did I see a flash of the devil on your face for a moment?”
I extended my hand with the phone in it to him. “My grandmother always said a lady gave an angel’s smile and kept her devilish thoughts to herself.”
He grumbled and stood. “No wonder you and Iris hit it off so easily.”
Without saying he was finished with our conversation, Reed walked to the door. “By the way, I was looking down at my phone while walking earlier when I crashed into you. My grandmother said it was a vase in your hands that broke all over the floor. Bring me the receipt, and I’ll reimburse you for it.”
I shook my head. “No need. The supplies were only a few dollars. I made it.”
His brows drew down. “You made it?”
“Yes. I sculpt. And make pottery. Well, I used to anyway. When Iris and I met in the bathroom, I’d mentioned that and said I missed doing it. She encouraged me to start back up, get back on track with things that make me happy. So I spent the weekend at the wheel making it. It had been a few years and, well, she was right. I need to focus on things that make me happy instead of dwelling on the past, which I can’t change. Making that vase was the first step in the right direction for me.”
Reed stared at me funny for a long time, then turned around and walked out the door without a word. Such an asshole. A gorgeous, arrogant asshole who looked just as good going as he did coming.Later that afternoon, I noticed a blue note sitting on my desk. It really caught me off guard and made me pause for a moment before picking it up. That’s because it was the same exact blue stationery as from inside of the wedding dress.
Shivers ran down my spine. I’d almost forgotten about that beautiful note and the emotions I’d felt back when I first discovered it. I couldn’t imagine the unpleasant man I’d come to know could ever be such a romantic. The Reed I encountered was pragmatic and cold. It made me even more curious about what had soured a man who was once so sweet.
I sighed.
A blue note from Reed.
Meant for me.
This feels surreal.
At the top were the embossed letters that read From the desk of Reed Eastwood. I took a deep breath and read the rest:
Charlotte,
If you have any further questions about Bridgehampton, feel free to air-type them up for me.
ReedCHAPTER 8
REED
I pulled up to the light at the corner fifteen minutes early. Charlotte was already there, standing out in front of the building. Since the light was red, it gave me some time to observe her from a distance. She looked at her watch and then glanced around at the sidewalk before walking to a nearby empty water bottle lying at the curb. She picked it up, then looked around some more.
What the hell was she doing? Looking for bottles on the streets of Manhattan to return for a five-cent deposit? This woman was definitely out there. Who had time for this crap? I watched as she walked over to something else, bent to collect it, then walked a few feet away and did it again. What the . . .
The light turned green, so I proceeded to turn right and pull down the one-way street in front of our building. Charlotte took a cautious step back, then bent down to see who it was. The woman was collecting germ-infested treasure from a New York City street and was worried that the Mercedes S560 pulling up might be trouble. I rolled down my tinted window. “You ready?”