Page 3 of Serenading Reagan
“Oh, nothing serious, we just wanted to know how the wedding went last night. I was disappointed we couldn’t make it to see Callie get married, but we just couldn’t get out of our plans yesterday. Did everyone love the brownie cake?”
“It was a hit. Super stressful trying to get it set up, but once I was done, even I was impressed.”
Pride was evident in Simon’s voice as he responded, “That’s awesome, sis. You’re such a bloody talented baker. Listen, I’d better go, we’re meeting some friends for a wine tasting event. I’m so glad yesterday went well. Keep me posted on your dates to come and visit, okay? Love you.”
“Love you too, Simon. We’ll talk soon.” Reagan hung up the phone and leaned back against her couch with a sigh. It was true, the brownie cake had been a huge hit last night. So much in fact that she had several people ask her for a business card. Of course, she didn’t have one, since it wasn’t a business. It was just a dream.
When her grandmother had taught her how to bake as a young girl, Reagan had found her passion. The science of baking, the creativity of mixing ingredients, the joy of watching people indulge in her treats. Reagan loved it all. Someday she would love to turn that passion into a career. The question was, would someday ever come, or would Reagan let her low self-esteem continue to hold her back.
* * *
Later that evening, Reagan walked in the doors of The Lucky Strike to meet Anna and Ryan for a drink. With Jake away on a short honeymoon with Callie, Ryan was pulling extra shifts at the pub, and Anna was helping whenever she could take time away from her studies. Anna had gone back to school to finish her teaching degree, after being forced to abandon it by her abusive ex-boyfriend. Ryan’s brother Noah was also pulling extra shifts, in his role as manager of the pub. Which meant Callie’s friend Melanie was often there. Those two were good friends, and Mel was adamant it would never be anything more, but Reagan and Callie had chatted about how it looked like there was something more there. With everyone close to her pairing off in serious relationships, Reagan felt more alone than she ever had in her life.
She pushed aside her melancholy thoughts as she sat down on a stool at the bar. With a smile at Anna who was pouring a drink for someone down at the other end of the bar, Reagan spun around on her stool and looked out at the bar. It was busy, but not too bad, not packed like it would be on nights that Chase was performing.Chase…even that fleeting thought of him sent her heart racing, and he wasn’t even here. Desperate to regain control, Reagan turned back around just as Anna pushed a glass of white wine over to her.
“You look like beer won’t cut it tonight, Reags, what’s going on? Why are you sitting here looking so frustrated with life?”
“Ha. Frustrated with life is a good way to put it,” Reagan huffed. “Honestly, Anna, my head’s just a mess for some reason. I’ll be fine, and this wine will help.” She lifted the glass and nodded in Anna’s direction before taking a long sip.
“Don’t forget I’m also a woman, Reagan. I know what it means when we say we’re fine. It means you’re anything BUT fine.” Anna’s voice softened, and she reached a hand over to touch Reagan. “I’m here if you need to talk, okay? I know I’m not Callie, but I am your friend.”
Reagan smiled gratefully. “I know, Anna, thank you. I’m sorry I’m not great company. I guess I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
“Alright, I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now. But when I get a break, we are sitting down in a booth and talking. Deal?”
“Deal. But you better bring more booze with you when you come.” Reagan said drily.
* * *
Chase pushed open the back door to the pub and headed for the office to pick up a pay stub Jake had left for him. Sounds from the main room drifted back to him, laughter, people talking and glasses clinking. Making a snap decision, he headed out front to get a drink, and, to see if a certain redhead was here.
Since he was so focused on looking for Reagan, Chase wasn’t exactly paying attention to what was around him as he walked down the hall. There was no way to avoid bumping into the tiny blonde woman who was suddenly in his way. His hands reached out to hold her arms so she wouldn’t fall, as he took in the glassy look in her eyes and swaying movement that told him she’d obviously had a lot to drink.
“Sorry about that, didn’t see you there.” Chase dropped his hands and shifted away. Unfortunately, the woman in front of him had other ideas.
He groaned inwardly when he saw her eyes widen and fill with lust-filled attraction.
She giggled and reached her fingers out to trail them down his arm, stumbling as she tripped closer to him. “That’s okay, handsome, maybe I wanted you to catch me.” She looked up at him and bit her lower lip, in a move that Chase suspected was meant to be erotic, but truthfully did nothing for him. Even if he hadn’t been determined to pursue Reagan, this waif-like woman who was throwing herself at him was not his type. He had never been attracted to desperate women.
He tried to back away, but she had him against the wall—literally. Chase wondered how the hell he could get out of this mess without being disrespectful to the woman. His answer came in the most fortunate of coincidences, when he looked up to see Reagan just a few feet away, with a curious look on her face.
“Red, there you are. I was coming to see you for our date,” he cried out, in hope that she would pick up on the uncomfortable situation and play along. He was relieved to see her quickly roll her eyes but smile and saunter toward him.
“Hey, honey-buns, I got tired of waiting,” Reagan cooed in a syrupy sweet voice as she squeezed in next to him and turned to fix the drunk blonde with a harsh stare. “Who’s your new friend?”
Chase held back a laugh. Reagan was amazing.
“Nobody, babycakes.”
He avoided eye contact with the other woman and instead turned to nuzzle Reagan’s neck. He stayed there, inhaling her sweet perfume for a moment, until Reagan pulled away.
“She’s gone, Chase. And who the hell uses babycakes as a nickname?”
Chase looked up at Reagan—who now stood in front of him, her hands cocked on her luscious hips—with a bashful grin. Damn she was beautiful, with her stunning legs encased in dark denim, and a flowing black top that dipped dangerously low.
“Probably the same people who say honey-buns.”
Reagan huffed, “Whatever. You needed saving, I saved.”
