Cindy Miles - At First Touch

“Jep, I—” Eric began.

“Ah,” Jep interrupted, holding up a weathered hand. “I’m not tryin’ to drag up old wounds, boy. I’m just sayin’, watch it with Reagan. She’s not the one to get over Celeste with. You know, what do you kids call it these days?”

Eric stared hard at his grandfather. That’s what he thought he was doing? Putting the moves on Reagan as the rebound? Hell yeah, Celeste had stomped on his heart. Ripped it out and twisted it. Dramatic? Yup. But that’s what it had felt like. He’d asked the girl to marry him, for Christ’s sake. She’d said yes. Then the moment he’d announced he had been given transfer orders to Cassabaw, Celeste had broken the engagement. Just like that. But he wasn’t rebounding. Hell no. “Yeah, Jep,” he said, and rose. “Rebound. Copy that.”

“Rebound, that’s right. Don’t get all mad now,” Jep countered. “I’m just advisin’ you is all. Just in case your head was parked up your ass.”

Eric chuckled and shook his head. “Advice unneeded, but appreciated out of respect,” he clarified. “Celeste was months ago, Jep.” He nodded. “I’m...good. No rebound necessary.”

Jep eyed him, a white brow lifting. “I’m skeptical about that, but we’ll see.”

Eric started for the door.

“Where’re you off to?”

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned at his grandfather. “To plan round two of Mission: Hardhead Quinn.” He wagged his brows and pushed inside, and just as the screen door closed he heard his grandfather mumble.

He knew Reagan was in pain. He knew it was going to take a while for her to realize she was part of the family now, and that the Malones had one another’s backs. Always.

And as Eric flipped on the hot water for a shower, his mind raced as to just exactly how he planned on making her cooperate.

Hell. That would be half the battle. And half the fun. The only thing was, why did he care so much? Many years separated their adult lives now. Before, they’d been kids, with no hurts other than scraped knees or splinters, and no heartache. Well, that was before Reagan and Em had lost their parents in an accident.

Either way, something inside him was egging him on. Making him want to tackle the force of nature that was Reagan Quinn. She was dog-determined to have her way, which was to obviously hide from the world. For some reason, he wasn’t having it.

Reagan Quinn would in no way, shape or form be able to say no.

CHAPTER FOUR

“NO.”

Eric Malone sighed. An amplified, overstressed one. “Why not?” he said, and was close, just on the other side of her screened door. She could make out the dark outline that was his form. “Just...why not?” he asked.

Reagan’s mind whirled. Why was he being so damned persistent? For the past several days he’d attempted to lure her into any and all sorts of activity. Lunch. Supper. Breakfast. Fishing. Boat ride. Picnic. She’d said no each and every time. It wasn’t like they knew each other, or had an invested relationship. She’d known him as a kid. She’d known him as an adult for all of a week, yet he acted as if he’d known her his whole life. Like they were...close. And they were not.

What the hell did he want with her?

Her heart wasn’t into much of anything anymore, and really, she wanted to just be left alone. She thought she’d conveyed that quite clearly. But no matter how many times she told Eric Malone no, he came back just as many with a different proposal.

“Reagan, it’s just a friendly drive to the grocery store,” Eric pushed. “You can keep me company. Give me advice, even. What do you say? You’ve got to get out at some point, right? You don’t want to stay cooped up in the house.”

“Why, yes, I most certainly want to do exactly that. I like cooped.” Besides. Friendly drive to the grocery store? What did that even mean?

Eric’s laugh came from his chest. “Nobody likes cooped, Quinn.”

“So this is purely a selfish request on your part, yes?” she asked. When he didn’t reply, she continued. “Because, in case you didn’t notice? I’m blind. I can’t see the scenery typically noticed during a friendly drive. I can’t see items on the grocery store shelves. I can’t see...you. Anything.” She shifted her weight, her hand on the screen door’s handle. “I’d basically just be sitting there. Like a hood ornament.”

Eric was silent at first; the cicadas rose from the yard. Then his laughter fell through the screen, and it was all male. Simple. Joyful. “If that’s the way you want to look at it,” he said. “Hood ornament, huh? That’s pretty funny, Reagan Rose. Almost as funny as making me talk to you through this stupid screen.”

He’d been after her the previous week—ever since she’d arrived—to drive off with him. To somewhere. Anywhere. He’d persisted, pushed, begged. Eric Malone had said anything he thought might convince her, and still she’d refused. Em had told her to just...give in and go. Perhaps if she did, he’d leave her alone. She doubted it, but it was worth a try.

“Don’t you have any friends? Girlfriends?” Reagan asked. “Being in the Coast Guard, I’m pretty sure you do. Go hang out with them. Do guy stuff. Go...date.”

“Ah, checkin’ up on me, huh, Quinn?” he teased. “Of course I have friends.” He sighed. “Girls, by the dozens of course, but not interested in any of them. But I don’t know—my friends? They’re just not as cute as you.”

Why that comment made Reagan smile, she couldn’t understand. But it did, and she fought it. Hid it. Covered it up with her hand, turned her head. “Being called cute stopped affecting me a long, long time ago,” she said.

“Yeah,” Eric answered. His voice sounded light, as though covering up a laugh. “I can tell. Now stop stalling, Reagan Rose. You have turned me down every single time I’ve stopped by this week. I can’t take one more rejection. I just can’t.” A thud sounded against the door frame, accompanied by an exaggerated sigh. “In case you’re wondering, that’s my forehead hitting the wood. Out of epic frustration. And now I’m making a sincerely adorable puppy face. You comin’ or aren’t ya?”

“You’re overacting,” Reagan muttered under her breath, still fighting a grin. “All right. Under one condition I will come with you.”

“Yes! Name it,” Eric said.

Reagan stared in the direction of his shadowy form. “That you leave. Me. Alone.”

“Whoa, now,” he added. “Let’s make an amendment here.”

Reagan waited.

“If—and I stress the word if—you don’t completely and utterly enjoy the absolute hell out of yourself today, I’ll back off.”

“I didn’t say back off,” she corrected. “I said, leave alone. As in stop coming over here, trying to convince me that I need to get out of the house.”

“Well, that’s nigh to impossible, don’t you think? Seeing as how we’re practically family and all?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Why do you care if I’m just sitting over here staring at the walls?”

Another heavy sigh. “Do you have a fork? Ice pick? Can opener? I’d like to poke my eyes out now, please. Out of epic frustration.”

Reagan’s lip twitched. Just a fraction. “That’s a really nice thing to say to a blind person. And, you say the word epic a lot.”

“Ha! I saw that!” Eric said excitedly. “And epic is a grand word indeed. And, I’m not joking about your blindness. I’m simply expressing my extreme annoyance with you. Now quit your stalling, girl, and come on. I mean it, Reagan.”

With a sigh of defeat, she pushed open the screen door. “Come on in. I’ll just be a sec.”

“Holy God, wait. Do you hear that?” Eric said, his steps falling across the wood planks as he eased inside.