The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (31 page)

He paused, sat up and pulled his t-shirt off and over his head. Her hands were instantly on his chest. She splayed her fingers and slowly worked her hands down, setting every nerve ending in his body on fire. It was a sweet torture the way she touched him, working her way toward the waistband of his jeans. But he didn’t stop her because every second they shared together only built the tension that grew between them. Just as Whitney’s fingers landed on the button of his jeans and began to work it through the hole, a shrill ringing came from his pocket.
 

“Dammit,” he muttered. “Ignore it.” It rang again and Whitney stopped, pulling her hands away.
 

“Maybe you should get it?” she asked.

“No.” Reid dug into his back pocket to turn it off, but when he saw the call display, he groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry, Whitney. I do have to get this.”

She smiled sweetly, even though he could see the frustration in her eyes too. He kissed her quickly, not able to linger, and reluctantly got off the couch and took the call.
 

“Mr. Phillips?”
 

“Reid,” he said, and tried not to sound exasperated. “Please. Call me Reid.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” Marion stumbled over the words. “I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, Mist—Reid.”
 

He looked at Whitney on the couch, who had sat up and was buttoning her blouse. “No,” he said, looking away. “How’s Lizzy? Is everything okay?”

“That’s why I’m calling.”

He resisted the urge to tell her that there would really be no other reason she would be calling.
 

“We need to talk about Lizzy’s release date. She’s worked exceptionally hard and I think it could be anytime next week. In fact, we’ve set Wednesday as the final goal.”

“Wednesday?” He lowered his voice and risked another glance at Whitney, who was obviously trying not to listen to his conversation and had picked up her notepad again. “That’s kind of early, don’t you think?”

“Mr. Phillips,” Marion said, and he didn’t bother correcting her again. “As I said, Lizzy’s worked very hard and she’s ready to return to a stable and secure home environment, and at this point in her treatment plan, I think it would be best. Besides, we did discuss the cost effectiveness of the idea, did we not?”
 

“We did,” Reid said. “If you think it’s best, Wednesday will be fine.”

He finished the call and turned to see Whitney watching him.

“What’s on Wednesday?” she asked.

***

I couldn’t help it that I was focused on his bare chest while he took the call. I tried not to be, but there was definitely something between us, something incredibly hot and I’d been waiting somewhat anxiously for him to get home so we could finish what he’d started at Blissful Orchards. But whoever was on the phone had distracted him, and he was looking at me in a way that meant I probably wasn’t going to like what he was going to say. He tucked the phone back into his back pocket and jammed both hands into his hair, running them back until he was looking up at the celling.
 

“What’s on Wednesday?” I asked again. When he didn’t answer right away, I asked, “Reid, is everything okay? Was that about Lizzy?”

He nodded and came to sit next to me on the couch. The proximity of him caused a spark in my chest and a shiver to run through me simultaneously. “Lizzy’s being released on Wednesday,” he said without any preamble.

“Released? That’s great,” I said and meant it. “Where is she going to—oh,” I said, coming to the realization from the question in his eyes.
 

“I’m sorry, Whitney.” He took my hands in his and I wished he wouldn’t, only because his touch made me vibrate. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said.

“She’ll stay here,” I said without hesitation.

“I’m not going to impose on you, though.” Reid continued talking as if I hadn’t said anything. “You have enough going on with Grams and your job and everything. Besides, you just really got the house to yourself, and I know I wasn’t exactly a welcome addition. I’m sure I can find a small apartment somewhere.”

He continued to babble and I didn’t rush to interrupt him because he looked so cute when he got flustered. I know it probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but I let him carry on about how he didn’t want to put me out and how he’d figure something out. I tried not to smile because as much as I was enjoying the way his hair stood up after he ran his hands through it, he really did look stressed out. And when he started talking about potential rental properties, I interrupted him.

“Reid,” I said, squeezing his hands so he’d look me in the eye. “I said, she’ll stay here.”

“No. Whitney, I couldn’t ask it of you. It’s too much.”

“Well,” I bobbed my head back and forth and smiled, “you kinda already did. Besides, I insist. She’s your sister and I have an extra room. She’ll stay here until you guys can figure something out.”

Reid pulled me into a hug and I became very aware that he still hadn’t put his t-shirt on. “Thank you, Whit. I owe you big time and I promise it won’t be permanent. I’ll figure something out.”

“There’s no rush,” I said, and pulled back enough to look him in the eyes and give him a flirtatious smile. “Now, what was it you said about owing me?”
 

***

Two days later, surrounded by kitchen equipment and a pile of ingredients, it was easy not to think about the chaos that was going to descend on me when I was occupied with slicing vegetables and peeling potatoes. Reid tried, without very much success, to teach me proper knife skills but I’m pretty sure even he felt it was a lost cause because after a few attempts, he left me to mangle the veggies on my own.
 

“At least they’ll taste good,” he said when I handed him my finished product in a bowl.
 

He put the bowl aside to pull me into his arms and kiss me. My skin flushed and I got lightheaded in what was becoming a familiar feeling when his lips met mine. It didn’t matter how much he kissed me; every time, my body responded with a craving for him that was so intense it scared me a little bit. I’d never felt that way with anyone else. It was all at once terrifying and exhilarating.
 

All too soon, the kiss was over and Reid released me to check on the roast beef in the oven. “You know,” he said with his back to me, “This wasn’t quite what I had in mind when I said I owed you.”
 

I flicked him with a dish towel and hopped up to sit on the counter in order to avoid retaliation. Reid had been pretty surprised when the only favor I wanted was for him to help me cook the dinner for my family. And I used the word “help” loosely; he was doing most of the work and we both knew it was better that way.

 
“I know, but this is good, too, isn’t it?” I gave him the sexiest smile I could, fully aware that I probably looked ridiculous. It was easy to flirt with him. Everything was easy with him. With any luck, the dinner party would be easier with Reid around, too. And I most definitely was not talking about the cooking part. The smile fell off my face, thinking about the evening to come.
 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Reid’s voice was full of concern. He tucked the foil over the roast again and put it back in the oven. “You’re not really worried about dinner, are you? I told you, I’d take care of the Yorkshire puddings, they’ll be fine. And the gravy,” he waved his hand like it was no big deal, “it’ll be the best you’ve ever tasted.”

“You know that’s not why I’m worried.” I shot him a look but was secretly thankful he’d tried to make me smile.
 

“I know.” He put his hands on my knees and a shiver shot through me. “Do you want to talk about it? Why exactly are you so worried about this?”

I shook my head. “It’s my mom. And Grams, really. They don’t do well in the same room together and Stan’s coming, too, so that will be an extra special treat.”

“He seemed like a nice guy.” Reid shrugged and that rogue lock of hair I loved so much flopped over his forehead.
 

I gave in to the urge to gently brush it back from his face. “He is,” I said. “Stan is the best thing that happened to my mother. But Grams blames him for the fact that she’s a stripper. She thinks it’s his fault and no matter what I’ve said to convince her otherwise, she can’t get past it.”

Reid was quiet for a moment. “Can I ask you a question, Whitney?” There was something in his voice that caught me off guard.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Am I going to like it?”

“It’s just an honest question and all I want is an honest answer. Okay?”

I nodded.
 

“Is it really so terrible that your mother’s a stripper?”
 

It wasn’t the question I expected. And my mind went blank. I stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that you’re very secretive about it,” he said. I turned away from his gaze. “You said yourself that you didn’t tell anyone about her and you actually told me she was dead.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear any more, but Reid squeezed my knees again. “Whitney, look at me.” Slowly, I turned my head so I was looking at him. “The other night you were being really casual about it and said that stripping is just what she did, like it was any other job. I’m confused because sometimes you act like it’s a big secret and other times, you treat it like it’s not a big deal.”
 

“It’s not,” I said without thinking.

“Then why do you hide it?” The question was harsh, but it was softened by the concern in his voice. “Why would you rather people think your mother is dead than actually know the truth?”

A sigh escaped my lips and for a moment I thought about making up a bullshit excuse, but when I looked into Reid’s eyes, he really did look like he cared, and that was all the incentive I needed. “Honestly? It’s easier,” I said. “I’ve told people before. Friends at school. Some were okay with it, but most of them looked at me like I was dirty and damaged, and after a while they’d just stop talking to me. And the guys,” I forced a fake laugh, “they’re the best, because they always want to meet her. And by meet her, I mean go see her dance naked. I’m pretty sure most of them had some sort of fantasy that I don’t even want to know the details of.” I shook my head and looked away again. “It’s easier to lie.”

“Maybe it’s just the guys you’ve dated?” Reid’s voice was so sincere, it pulled my gaze back.

I know we were both thinking of William and the lies I’d told him. I’d told Reid it was over between us. That I’d ended it. And I had, but I still hadn’t heard from William. Part of me was hoping that he would accept my voicemail message for what it was, and he’d move on. But I wasn’t naive enough to really believe it. I knew I’d have to talk to him at school on Monday and I owed him at least that much.

“Maybe,” I whispered.

We looked into each other’s eyes and I could see how much he cared. That awareness broke my heart a little, but in a good way.
 

“Is that the only reason you hide it?”
 

His question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
 

“I mean,” he said, “does your mother’s job really matter? Does it define who you are?”

I hated myself for it, but I nodded. “It does.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, releasing a breath, he said, “No, Whit. It doesn’t.”

***

Reid was right and there was a part of me, a big part, that knew it. But I didn’t have time to tell him so or even to think about what it meant, because the doorbell rang.

“Here we go.” I straightened my hair and put on what I hoped was a brave face before hopping off the counter.
 

“Remember, it’s just your family, Whit,” Reid said.
 

“Right. Just family.”
 

I left Reid in the kitchen and went to let my mom and Stan into the living room.
 

The first thing Mom said when she stepped through the door was, “It doesn’t look very different.” She stood rigid as she looked around. “I thought you said your grandmother moved.” She turned and looked at me. “It still looks like her.”
 

“It’s still her house, Mom.”
 

“Patty.” Stan put his hand on her arm and I could see some of the tension leave her. “You said you were going to keep an open mind tonight.”

Mom nodded. “Is she here yet?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. Kat’s going to drop her off on her way out. She should be here any minute.” I waved my arm towards the couch. “Make yourself at home, Mom. It’s your house, too.”

She walked past me with a little laugh. “Darling, it hasn’t been my house for years.” She plopped herself onto the couch and tossed her head back. I was happy to see she was wearing jeans and a blouse. Even if the jeans were a little tighter than was usually considered decent and she’d missed a few buttons on her blouse, I could tell she’d made an effort.
 

Stan pulled me aside so Mom couldn’t hear. “Thank you, Whitney.” There was so much sincerity in his eyes, for a second I thought he might cry.
 

“For what? It’s just a dinner.”

“It’s not just a dinner,” he said. “She needs this. They both do, really. And I know it’s not easy for you to be put in the middle, but it’s a good thing you’re doing, Whit. Thank you.”
 

Before I could answer, there was a knock at the door and Kat walked in with Grams on her arm. “Don’t thank me yet,” I said to Stan. I gave him a wink and went to greet them.

Helping her out of her coat was difficult because I tried to be aware of the pain that was ever increasing in her right side and she held herself with so much stiffness that I could barely wriggle it off her arms. “Grams,” I whispered in her ear. “Relax, please. It’s just dinner.”
 

“I’m doing this for you,” she said once I got her coat free.
 

I kissed her on the cheek. “No, Grams. You’re doing this for you.” I gave her a smile. “Come and say hi.” When she didn’t move, I added, “Please, Grams.”