Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15)(17)

“What do you want?” she asks again. She looks everywhere but at me.

“I want to kiss you,” I blurt out.

“Why?” She stares hard at me.

“Because you’re so damn pretty.”

She laughs, her mouth opening wide. “I look really beautiful right now, I’m sure.”

“You could be wearing a sack and you’d still be beautiful.”

She points to her ear. “Yet I’m hearing, so I’ll never be quite good enough for you.”

She goes to the couch and flops down on it, lifting her bird and cat slippers to rest on the edge of the coffee table.

I sit down next to her. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have asked you if you wanted to go with them, and then let you decide if you wanted to spend time with me and with them. I was being selfish. I wasn’t really trying to keep you away from them. I just wanted to have you all to myself.” Heat creeps up my cheeks. “I know it seems different, like I didn’t want you to hang out with my friends, but that’s not the case.”

She stares at me without saying a word. She has no emotion whatsoever on her face. Well, not that I can see her face under the green goop, but still.

“I wanted to have lunch with you alone so I could get to know you a little better.” I feel the need to fan my hot face, but I try to refrain.

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“When you sent my cap back to me, I knew I f*cked up.”

She arches her brows.

I hold my cap out between us. “This is my most prized possession in the whole world. My grandfather bought it for me at a Skyscrapers game and then he died the next week. So I was really worried you would lose it. But then I realized that it was a risk I was willing to take if you would keep holding it hostage, because that meant you would talk to me.”

She still doesn’t reply.

“I think you’re funny, and you’re smart, and if you don’t care that I’m deaf, I won’t hold it against you that you can hear.” She wiggles her toes and the slippers start flopping, so I let my eyes travel up the length of her legs. Half of her leg has been shaved and the other half is stubbly, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Honestly, even with her looking like she does right now, she’s the hottest woman I have ever seen. I want more days like this, where she’s vulnerable and normal. But I’d also like for her to be happy.

I reach out to dab a little of the green goop with my finger and then I rub it between my thumb and forefinger. “What the f*ck is this stuff?”

“Avocado mask,” she says. She lifts the tail of her shirt and wipes my finger clean.

“Now your shirt’s dirty,” I tell her.

She finally smiles. She motions to her body. “Have you seen me today? A dirty shirt is the least of my problems.”

“I think you look hot.” I grin. I can’t help it. “Really hot.”

She blows out a raspberry, her lips vibrating as she does it. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Thank you for letting me plead my case.” I rub my sweaty palms up and down the thighs of my jeans. “I guess I should go so you can go back to…” I raise and lower my hand up and down the length of her body. “…whatever this is you’re doing.”

“It’s called wallowing.” She stares at the TV, which isn’t even turned on.

“What does wallowing consist of?”

“Beauty rituals.” She points to her face. “Lots of unhealthy food.” She points to the kitchen counter where there are several bags of takeout waiting. “I couldn’t decide what I wanted.”

“What did you get?” At least she’s talking to me.

“Pizza. Chinese. Chicken parmesan from the Italian restaurant. Donuts from the bakery on the corner.” She pinches her lips closed. “Four flavors of ice cream.” She throws up her hands. “That’s how I wallow.”

“You went out and got all that?”

She shakes her head. “I sent someone. One of the benefits of always having security hanging around. They’re willing to go get food. I’m kind of glad you showed up, because now they won’t think I ate it all by myself.” She jerks a thumb toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry? There’s a lot of food.”

“I could eat.” I shrug. “Do you have plans tonight?”

She laughs. “You’re looking at them.”

“Can I hang out with you?” I hold my breath while I wait for her reply.

“You want to hang out with this?” She motions to herself again.

“I like this,” I say, making a move like she’s a prize on The Price is Right. “I like it a lot.” I look at her TV. “We could rent a movie.”

Her brow furrows. “You enjoy movies?”

“With closed captioning, yes.” I smile at her. “You’ve never spent much time with deaf people, have you?”

“Just Logan Reed…” She winces.

“Where did you learn to sign?”

“We all learned when we were small,” she says. “Peck had a really bad stutter, so it was the only way she could communicate. Then when Peck married into the Reed family, we realized that the whole family used it to communicate, and we felt like it was rude not to know the language, so we took a few refresher classes on the weekends.”