Let It Breathe by Tawna Fenske Read Free Book Online Page B

on bare skin, the feel of—
    The letter opener fell from her palms.
    Clay reached over and picked it up, handing it back to her without a word. His fingers brushed hers as she reached out to take it. Before Reese could draw back, he wrapped his fingers around her fist and held tight.
    “I can handle this if you can,” he murmured.
    Reese took a deep breath and looked down at his hand engulfing hers. “I can handle it.”

    That evening, Clay leaned back from the dinner table and grinned at Eric and Sheila. “You guys have to stop feeding me like this. You’ll never get rid of me.”
    Sheila beamed and passed him a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. “It’s so wonderful having you here for a little while.”
    Clay helped himself to a cookie, taking note of the gentle warning: A little while . Translation: Don’t get too comfortable, buddy .
    Hell, he deserved that. Clay had still been hanging around when Sheila and Eric started dating a few years after Eric split with Reese. They’d all seen him at his worst, so how could he blame them for thinking he might drag them all through it again?
    He’d just have to work harder to prove that wouldn’t happen.
    “Eric’s thrilled to have his oldest friend back in town,” Sheila continued as she took a cookie for herself and set it on a little white plate.
    Eric squeezed his wife’s hand as he tipped his chair onto its back legs and took a bite of cookie. “You hear that?” he said to Clay through a mouthful. “She just called us old.”
    “Actually, she just called me old,” Clay pointed out as he grabbed another cookie. “Which makes no sense, since I’m eight months younger than you and brimming with youthful vigor.”
    Eric snorted. “You’re brimming with something, all right.”
    Sheila stood and began to stack the empty plates, tucking her blonde hair behind one ear as she leaned across the table. Clay got to his feet, setting his cookie aside and reaching out to take them from her. “Let me get those. I’ll do the dishes while you guys relax.”
    “Absolutely not,” Sheila said, giving his hand a light swat. “You’re a guest. You boys sit here and catch up. There’s some of that nonalcoholic beer in the fridge, or I could get you some more water or—”
    “I’m fine, really,” Clay insisted. “Just let me help with the dishes—”
    “Sit!” she commanded.
    Clay sat. “Thank you for dinner, Sheila. It was delicious.”
    “No problem, honey. I’m heading out to watch The Bachelor with Reese and Larissa, but you boys stay here and get comfortable.”
    Eric and Clay began to stack plates as Sheila maneuvered around the table and headed for the kitchen. Clay glanced at Eric, noticing the way his friend watched his wife with undisguised fondness. He tried to remember if Eric had ever looked at Reese that way.
    Stop thinking about Reese , he commanded himself. He grabbed another cookie and took a bite.
    Eric dropped his chair back to all four legs with a thud. “I think we’re grounded.”
    “Huh?”
    “The cookies, the fake beer—my lovely wife is terrified we’re going to sneak out for a wild night on the town.”
    “Ah, I see—she’s afraid I’ll be a bad influence?”
    “Something like that.”
    Clay wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he took another bite of cookie and chewed hard. It wasn’t the first time someone from his past showed skepticism about his sobriety, but this time stung a little more for some reason. He sipped his water—recently topped off by Sheila—and ignored the frosty microbrew in the glass beside his friend’s plate.
    “So things went okay at the vineyard today?” Eric asked.
    “Not bad,” Clay said, picking at the corner of his cookie. “Reese was pretty upset about some changes in the material costs, but hopefully we’ll get it ironed out.”
    “She seem worried about you being out there with your history and everything?”
    “A little,” Clay admitted.
    “She’ll get over