That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky #3)(89)

“There she is,” he says and then pulls away. “What are you up to? Besides waiting for Eric to bring you orange chicken.”

I stare at him for a few beats and then clear my throat, pulling myself together. “Uh, I’m looking through applications for the restaurant. I have a few waitstaff positions to fill before Friday.”

“Need some help?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m good. I can finish this up later.” I push the applications to the side. “Why are you here?”

“What, am I not allowed to come visit you?”

“Not really.”

His brow pinches together. “But we’re friends.”

“I don’t know what cheery boat you stepped off of today, Reid, but we’re not friends. We’re business partners, and that’s about it.”

He lets out a deep breath. “Listen, Eve, I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt me? You think you just hurt me?” I shake my head. “Reid, you destroyed me.” The stiff upper lip I’ve had about our relationship loosens as my bottled-up feelings surface. “Do you realize how close we were? How close we were to having it all, to . . . to . . . love? I was there, right there, handing you my heart, and you didn’t take it. You didn’t just hurt me; you broke me.”

“I . . . fuck, Eve, I was—”

“Save it.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t want to get into this right now. It’s been months—I’ve moved on.”

“So I noticed,” he bites out. “How is Oliver, by the way?”

“That’s none of your business, and you have no right to use that kind of tone with me. Unless you have something to say about the restaurant, I suggest you leave.”

Regret flashes over his face. “I want to be friends,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes.

He must really be losing it if he thinks that’s an option.

“Never going to happen. There’s too much between us, too much hurt, too much that went unsaid. You completely blindsided me, Reid. That’s going to be very hard to get over.”

“Try,” he pleads, leaning forward. “Try to be friends.”

I shake my head just as the apartment door opens, and Eric walks in. I see it the minute he takes us in, the question in his eye. “What’s going on in here?”

Reid stands and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Had a question about the applications. Thanks for taking care of it for me.” His voice sounds distant, strained, and it pains me to know I’m the one who put that tone there. “I’ll catch you two later.”

He takes off and shuts the door behind him, and I’m left wondering if I was too hard on him. But then again, he’s the one who did this to us.

He wants to be friends? I don’t think that’s ever going to be possible. How can I go back to friendship when the love I have for him still runs deep in my bones?



Morning-catch day is the worst. I begged Barb to take care of Reid’s payment this morning, but she just glanced at me and snorted. Have I mentioned she’s the absolute worst?

With a deep breath, I open the back door to the Inn kitchen and keep my chin high as I come face to face with Reid.

Not wearing his fishing gear this go-around, but still standing next to his full cooler of lobsters, he actually seems approachable—not like he would smell like this morning’s catch.

I haven’t spoken with him since he left my apartment a few days ago. He shot me a text later that night, apologizing for upsetting me and ruining everything between us. As tears streamed down my face, I realized I didn’t have it in me to text him back. I knew that if I did, I would probably crumble and ask him for another chance.

I can’t be the one to break, the one to give in. He did this to us, and if he wants to have any other kind of relationship with me beyond the restaurant, then he’s going to have to figure it out himself.

Keeping things neutral, I stare down at the catch and say, “Wow, you caught a lot this morning.”

“Had a little help from Brig.”

“And he didn’t fall off the boat?” The joke slips effortlessly from my mouth before I can rein it in.

The tone in my voice must lift his spirits because he smiles and takes a step forward. “I didn’t say that.”

“Wait, did he fall off?”

“Yup.” He laughs, the sound so sexy that I have to will myself not to fall into his arms. “When he was pulling up a cage, the boat caught a wave and lifted him up and overboard. He fell in and started flailing around like an idiot.”

“Oh God.” I laugh, picturing the whole thing. “I wish that was on camera.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket. “I didn’t get it on video, but I did get a few good pictures.” He steps toward me and holds the phone out. I take it and immediately start laughing when I see Brig’s arms flailing about in the water and a panicked look on his face.

“Poor Brig. You must have scarred him for life.”

“Let’s just say he sat in the corner with a space blanket wrapped around him for the rest of the trip. I don’t think he’ll be going out with me again anytime soon.”

“Why did he go to begin with?” I ask, handing back his phone, careful to make sure our fingers don’t brush.