Free Let It Breathe by Tawna Fenske Page A

from—what?
    “Reese?”
    “Yes?”
    She looked up and met his eyes. Something hot and dizzying knifed through her belly. He didn’t blink. She didn’t breathe. They were frozen in the moment, locked in each other’s gazes.
    She lifted her hand to touch him. She stopped herself, bit her lip, lowered her hand.
    Clay closed his eyes, his expression somewhere between pain and the dizzy euphoria he’d always glowed with after twelve too many beers. Was he holding his breath?
    He opened his eyes and looked away, his face flushed. “Your plates.” He swallowed. “You pulled them out of that cupboard, right?” He nodded over her shoulder. “May I set the table?”
    Reese took a breath and nodded. “Table. Yes.”
    She started to step away, to break the force field, but he reached for her. His fingertips grazed her cheekbone, lingering there for a second as his eyes held hers. Reese didn’t stop to think. She turned her face into his palm, not sure what was happening but also not sure she wanted to stop it. She stood there for a few heartbeats, his callused hand solid against her cheekbone, her own breath warm against his palm.
    She looked up to see Clay watching her. She saw his jaw clench and unclench as he took a breath. Then he drew his hand away and reached for the cupboard door.
    “Plates,” he murmured.
    “Right,” Reese agreed, and stepped back. She flipped the omelet with a shaky grip, her cheek burning where he’d touched her.

    Clay held the door open for Reese as they entered the winery barn together. She was laughing at something he’d just said—a beautiful, melodic kind of laughter that made him want to take up juggling or mime or anything that might keep her laughing like that forever—so he didn’t notice Eric until they were standing right in front of him.
    “Morning,” Eric said with a glance at his watch. He was smiling, but he raised an eyebrow at Clay before shooting Reese a pointed look.
    Clay caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the office window and felt a wave of dread. Same shirt he’d worn last night at Eric’s, uncombed hair and beard stubble, and now here he was at seven in the morning with Reese laughing up at him—
    “Nothing happened,” Clay blurted.
    Reese gave him a startled look. From the corner of his eye, Clay saw Eric shake his head.
    “Dude,” Eric said. “I didn’t say a word.”
    Clay wanted to climb into an empty wine barrel and stay there until Sunday, but Eric turned away from them as a corner door swung open and Sheila came hustling through.
    “Morning, everyone,” she called as she beamed at them. “Reese, honey, where’s the extra TP? I just used the last of it and I don’t want to leave anyone hanging.”
    “I’ll get it in a sec, don’t worry about it,” Reese said, stepping forward to give her a hug. “Great shoes!”
    Sheila hugged back while Clay stole a glance at Eric, wondering if it was awkward to have his ex-wife and his new wife hugging and chatting about toilet paper. Eric didn’t seem to notice.
    “You like?” Sheila asked, tipping her shoe up to give everyone a better view. “I got them at a half-price sale in Portland last week. Aren’t the little flowers just the cutest?”
    “I bet they’d go great with your pink sweater,” Reese said.
    “Oh, you’re right! I’ll have to try that.”
    Reese stepped away and moved toward the wine bar. Clay tried not to watch, hoping like hell Eric and Sheila hadn’t noticed he was having a tough time keeping his eyes off her.
    Don’t shit where you eat . Eric’s words echoed in Clay’s head, making him wince at the crudeness.
    “Did you guys see this?” Reese called. “Clay made us a new wine bar.”
    Everyone watched as Reese ran her hand over the top of it. Clay resisted the urge to beam with pride as Reese fingered the knots in the bar’s surface.
    Jesus, dude—get a grip. She’s just rubbing the wood.
    He also resisted the urge to make that comment