His Reverie (Reverie #1)(13)

It’s nice.

He’s regaling me with his latest story at this very second as we’re moving the outdoor furniture around yet again. I swear Mrs. Hale makes us do it just to watch us lift stuff. I think she gets off on being difficult, but she’s not around right now. She’s still getting ready for her party.

I haven’t seen Reverie at all today. I remember how a few days ago she’d walked by the pool, almost tripped and fell in but I saved her. I remember the sensation of her soft skin under my palm nearly doing me in.

I had to act like it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But she does. I don’t even know her so it’s crazy that I react to her this way.

That was the same day Krista and I did it. Haven’t seen her since either. I kicked her out the minute we finished, which made her mad. I really didn’t care. I was already mad at myself for letting it happen again.

I didn’t see Reverie at all today and I missed her. Missed seeing her smiling face, hearing her voice, catching a glimpse of that sweet as hell body. Though I shouldn’t miss her because she’s not for me. I need to remember my place. And it’s not with Reverie.

Not even close.

“So yeah,” Michael says, warming up with his new story. “It’s Labor Day and that’s when the Hales have their big end of summer party and we’re invited as guests instead of employees, you know? The sun is out, not a cloud in the sky and I’m swimming. We’re all having fun. There’s a barbecue going and the food smells amazing. I’m sneaking in some booze in a flask someone else brought to the party so I’m feeling good. I’m buzzin’.”

“Yeah?” I urge when he stops. He likes it when I encourage him to keep talking. Plus, I can tell this story is gonna be a good one. His talking helps make the time go by fast.

“Uh huh. So I climb out of the pool and I’m dripping water everywhere. I grab my towel off a lounge chair that’s in the farthest corner, right next to the pool room, you know where I’m talking about? Anyway, I’m over there, drying myself off when I feel someone touch my lower back, then fingers curl around the waistband of my trunks and those fingers are practically touching my ass.” His voice lowers and I lean into him, waiting for the big reveal. “I thought it was Brenda, this hot chick who worked here last summer, but it wasn’t. Dude, I was shocked as hell when I turned around ” Michael pauses again, his eyes going wide. He loves the dramatic effect. He’s damn good at it too. “It was Valerie.”

I frown. “Who?”

Michael thumps me on the chest, making me stumble backwards. Asshole. “Valerie Hale, dumbass! The reverend’s wife.” He shakes his head. “She ran her nails up and down my back and said I’d filled out over the summer. I mean what the eff? I about leaped out of my skin when she did that. Ran away like a scared little boy with my dick shriveling up faster than you can say cougar on the prowl.”

“Are you saying she hit on you?”

“No, I’m saying she gave me a simple back scratch.” Michael rolls his eyes. “Yes, she was hitting on me! I couldn’t freaking believe it, dude.”

I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen Valerie Hale in action, buzzing around the house and grounds, clapping her hands at us while she yells commands like we’re all her servants. It’s annoying as hell. “Did she ever try and touch you again?”

“Naw, dude. It was my last day of work for the season. I was gone the next day.”

“I’m talking about now. Since you’ve come back this summer,” I say, curious. I keep glancing toward the back of the house. The windows are huge, all of them uncovered and they run the full length of the living and dining room. I saw Mrs. Hale pass by a few times earlier and I want to make sure she doesn’t catch us standing around.

Gossiping about her.

“No, she hasn’t tried anything weird.” Michael smirks. “Caught her checking you out once though.”

Gross. She’s older than Mom. “No way,” I mutter as I lean over and grab the end of a wooden lounge chair. I start dragging it over to the others, not caring that I’m scraping the wood up on the concrete. I’m sick and freaking tired of moving furniture. It’s pointless. She’s just going to make us move it again anyway.

“Dude, let me help you.” Michael runs over to grab the other end of the lounger and helps me heft it over to where Mrs. Hale wants all of them clustered together. “You’re not into cougars, huh?”

“Hell no.” I rest my hands on my hips and glance around, making sure we’ve rearranged everything she asked us to. I want to change the subject. I don’t like the idea of Reverie’s mom hitting on me or whatever. “Don’t tell me we have to stay for the party.”

“Nah. Tomorrow though, we have to. We’re working it till the bitter end so it’s gonna be a long day. No independence for us.” Michael laughs and scratches the back of his head then flicks his chin at me. “You can go. See you tomorrow at eight? Bright and early?”

“Yeah. See ya.” I wave and wander off toward my car. Mom’s car. I want to get rid of it. I’d rather have a truck. Once I get a few more paychecks in my bank account, I think I could sell or trade in Mom’s and buy me a little used truck. Something I can throw all my crap in and use to get the hell out of here at the end of summer. Unless I decide to take some courses at the local community college, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.