Page 7 of Serenading Reagan
Reagan sighed, and tried to find the courage to just tell Anna what was holding her back. Callie had known Reagan for so long, she understood Reagan’s insecurities—even if she didn’t agree with them. But Anna was a relatively new friend, and Reagan struggled with admitting her body image issues to the beautiful, petite woman.
“Honestly? I’m afraid he’s going to open his eyes one day and realize I’m not exactly the type of woman a sexy musician goes out with. I mean, what is going to happen if he is discovered by a producer and ends up famous? I hate to admit this, but women with curves like mine are destroyed by the media. I doubt he would want me standing by his side,” Reagan blurted out.
Anna fixed Reagan with a direct stare and said, “You are nuts, Reagan Grant. I hope you don’t think I’m being harsh, because I don’t mean to. But do you hear yourself? You are making decisions for Chase that you don’t even know are what he would want. Maybe he isn’t interested in being famous. Maybe he doesn’t care about the music scene. And maybe, just maybe, you and your AWESOME curves are exactly what the media needs to see more of.”
Reagan smiled. “You’re right, Anna. I am making a whole lot of assumptions. My head just starts spinning whenever I let myself imagine being with Chase. He is just so talented; I can’t help but believe he’s going to be famous someday. And I just don’t know if I’m brave enough to be there when he does.”
“So, you’re saying it’s not about Chase and what he would want, it’s about you feeling too scared to let yourself be loved.”
Anna’s words cut through all of the turmoil in Reagan’s head.
“Wow. Yeah, I guess that is it. Shoot, Anna, that’s messed up isn’t it.” Reagan slumped back against the couch and absently stroked Samson as she processed the idea that all her hang-ups were one hundred percent in her head. It had nothing to do with Chase, and whether he was attracted to her. It had to do with Reagan and her own feelings of self-worth.
Anna had been sitting quietly beside Reagan for the last moment while she was lost in her thoughts. She spoke softly, “I don’t know enough about you and your life experiences to know why you believe you’re unworthy of love, simply because of your body. But what I do know is fear. And I do know that if you let fear lead your life, you will be miserable. Choose hope, choose happiness, choose courage. Trust me on that.”
Anna’s words struck home for Reagan as she remembered all that Anna had been through in the last year. Escaping her abusive ex, his hunting her down and trying to kidnap her, his arrest, imprisonment, and eventual death. The woman sitting beside her had been through it all, and had come out strong, confident, and most importantly, loved. Suddenly Reagan’s fears and insecurities paled in comparison.
“You’re so right. Truly, Anna, you are. I’m not saying I instantly love myself or can jump straight into a relationship as a confident woman, but I hear you.” Reagan paused, and looked down at the floor for a second, before turning back to Anna with hope in her eyes. “And I’m going to give Chase a chance. I’m not going to base my decisions on fear, or assumptions.”
“Atta girl. Give him more than a chance. Buy some sexy lingerie and give him a date he’ll never forget.”
Reagan laughed, and picked up her cup of coffee to cheers with Anna. “Sexy lingerie, for a sexy man.”
Anna grinned, and winked at Reagan. “A sexy man AND a sexy woman.”
Chapter 5
Reagan was back at work the next day, preparing a memo for her boss. The task was mindless for her, as were most of the things she did each day. Executive assistant at an investment firm was not exactly a thrilling position to hold. What made the tedious job even worse was her supervisor, Harris Turner. The man was a total creep, who loved to make snide remarks to Reagan about everything from her clothes to her body. While he had never made any physical overtures, the emotional toll of his behavior was heavy. Reagan knew that what he did would be classified as harassment, but she was terrified to come forward, even to the superiors at her company. There were too many stories of women being blamed for a man’s actions, too many tales of women losing their jobs—or worse, the harassment increasing.
The only silver lining to her workday was that when Harris was not around, she had plenty of time to lose herself in her thoughts. And right now, those thoughts centered around a certain tattooed musician. He had yet to reach out to her after their conversation at the pub, and it was driving her crazy. For a man who claimed he wanted to take her out, he sure was taking his time.
Fine, it’s only been a few days,she thought to herself. Patience was never her strongest virtue.Maybe he’s waiting for me to call him…No, that was crazy. She may have kissed him first at the pub, but he was the one who had followed her home from the wedding, and he was the one who kept pushing for a date. Surely it was not too much to expect he could get her phone number somehow.
“You know, Miss Grant, you shouldn’t wear a blouse that revealing. It’s really too distracting for the rest of us. I could help you cover up if you want.” Harris’s slimy voice suddenly filled her ears.
Reagan startled from her thoughts and pushed away from her desk where Harris had his hands planted as he leaned over and let his eyes roam down her body. She shuddered at how filthy his words made her feel. Even his calling her Miss Grant came across as creepy and condescending, not respectful.
“Do you need something, Harris?” She forced a professional tone in her voice as she kept as much distance as possible. Unfortunately, he boxed her in when he walked around the corner and perched his ass on the edge of her desk. Reagan felt extremely uncomfortable, but also trapped.
“No, I don’t need anything. Just wanted to come and say hello to my favorite assistant. It’s a shame you’re stuck way over here in the corner, Miss Grant. A woman like you deserves to be where people can see you. You know, I could get you moved to a nicer desk if you wanted.” He winked lasciviously at her and it sent chills down her spine. “All you have to do is ask. I’m sure we could work something out as a thank you for my help.”
Reagan silently counted to five as she tried to control her disgust and her nerves. The last thing she wanted was for this creep to realize he was getting to her.
“I’m fine here, Harris. If you don’t need anything, then I need to go. Mr. Browning needs this memo.” Reagan stood up stiffly and waited to see if he would move off her desk. When he didn’t, she took a deep breath and took a step, hating the feel of her leg brushing against his as she walked past.
“Alright then, Miss Grant. I’ll see you soon.” His parting shot followed her down the hall and had the distinct sound of a threat.
As Reagan walked toward the office where she was to deliver the memo, one of her coworkers, a quiet woman named Lucy who had always been friendly to Reagan in the lunchroom, gave her a small smile from where she sat at her desk. Suddenly Reagan realized that Lucy would have had a clear view of what had just happened. Maybe she had witnessed Harris’s treatment of Reagan.
Just as Reagan was about change course and go over to Lucy, the other woman stood up and swiftly walked away. Reagan paused, uncertain if she should follow.I guess she can’t help me. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to.
Resigned to the fact that, for now, Harris would go unpunished, Reagan carried on. She dropped the memo off on Mr. Browning’s desk and quickly walked back to her own work area, keeping a close eye out for Harris. Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen and she was able to finish her work in relative peace.
* * *
When Reagan arrived home later that evening, she slipped off her heels with a sigh of relief. She walked into her bedroom and quickly changed out of her clothes and into pajamas. After she wandered back into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine, she went to her purse to get her cellphone out to phone Simon and organize her visit.
The black screen made her groan as she realized her battery had died at some point during the day. She plugged it in and began to prepare herself some dinner. A short while later, she sat down on the couch with her grilled chicken salad in hand. When she picked up her phone to check it, Reagan’s heart stuttered to see a missed message from an unknown number that simply read:
