Read My Mind, Page 2

  My house isn’t directly opposite Mila’s—thank God, or I’d never get anything done—but I can see her house from my office. It’s very distracting. I should move the office to another room. I sound like a stalker. I have never followed her or even looked her up online. She probably posts lots of pictures on social media.

  Closing the front door behind me, I walk towards them, and my stomach clenches.

  Wren looks over as I approach, and she straightens up. “Oh, hey, Reid.”

  “How’s it going?” I ask. Talking to Wren is easy. I tutored her in English Literature for a month in high school so she was ready for her exams.

  She folds her arms. “I’m good. Mila, however…”

  With a scowl and pursed lips, Mila turns to face me.

  Eye contact from this girl is comparable to being winded.

  She has eyes the same colour as my favourite spiced rum.

  “I don’t need to take a look to know that you need a new car.”

  “There is nothing wrong with Hilda, thank you,” she says stubbornly.

  “I’m sorry, you named the car Hilda?”

  “Yes.”

  Of course, she did. “Why are you looking under the bonnet if there’s nothing wrong with it?”

  “Why are you spying on us?”

  Shit.

  “I was taking a break from work. It’s pretty hard to not notice that bright thing on your drive. Do you want me to take a look?”

  “Aren’t you an editor?”

  I tilt my head, trying not to show how much I’m enjoying this. “Do editors have a reputation for not knowing anything about cars?”

  Wren smirks at our exchange, saying so much with just one facial expression.

  Mila’s folds her arms over her chest and the action pushes her breasts up. “Do you know a lot about cars?”

  “Shall we find out?”

  She steps to the side, her shoulders dropping. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

  “I should get going?” Wren says.

  “Already?”

  “Well, you have it covered now, and I was never going to be able to fix it anyway. I don’t know why you messaged me.”

  “I thought you would bring Brody!”

  Wren frowns. “Oh. Yeah, I should have.”

  “Literally no help. I’ll see you later, Wren.”

  With a salute, Wren turns around. “Bye, Reid. Good luck!” she calls on her way to her car, which is parked at the side of the road.

  “All down to me, then?”

  Mila leans against the car and blinks. “I assume you have a penis.”

  “You’re good at the assumption game.”

  “Then, yes, it’s down to you.”

  “That’s rather sexist, Mila.” God, I love talking to her. I would have broken her car myself if I knew this would be the result.

  “It’s not sexist. It’s merely probable.”

  With a smile that makes my jaw ache, I lean down and look under the bonnet. I know a little about cars—I do minor repairs to my own—but I’m no mechanic.

  “Right. As I thought…”

  “What?” she asks impatiently, leaning in.

  My breath catches at her close proximity. “Erm…” I shake my head and stand up, putting some much needed but unwanted distance between us. “You need a new car.”

  “Bullshit! You just don’t know what you’re looking at.”

  Laughing, I say, “Take it to a garage and tell them your serpentine belt is worn and needs replacing.”

  “Then it’ll be fixed?”

  “Well, no, they have to replace it first.”

  “Ha ha,” she mutters. “So, are you super busy or can you do me one last favour?”

  I could have a deadline in three minutes and I still wouldn’t say no. “What do you need?”

  She smiles a toothy smile, like she’s unsure if I’ll go for it, and sways her body from side to side. “A lift home from the garage.”

  “All right. Give me a minute to lock the house up first.”

  Nodding, she slams the bonnet shut as I cross the road.

  I lock the front door and go to my car. Mila is watching me from her drive.

  “Ready?” she yells.

  “I’ll follow you in case that thing stalls.”

  “Don’t diss the car, dick!” she shouts back.

  Laughing, I get into my car and follow.

  I should just tell her how I feel or ask her out. At least then I will know if she’s at least interested.

  Sometimes I’ve come close, but I never know when Liam is on the scene. He’ll be around a lot, and then it’s weeks or months before I see him again.

  Mila must love him to keep going back.

  The longer I leave it, the more I feel like I need to make her see me.

  It might be down to me to open her eyes.

  Three

  Mila

  I get out of my sunshine yellow car at Liam’s garage as Reid pulls up beside me. He makes eye contact that I have to break after a second. If you look too hard at Reid, you’ll probably melt, combust, or do something else that sounds rather painful.

  My point being that Reid is ‘don’t look directly at it’ hot. Like if the sun was a person, it would be him.

  He’s the gorgeous, mysterious guy who lives opposite my house. I think I’ve spoken to him about five times, along with a hi or wave. Right now, he’s sort of my favourite person.

  He gets out of his metallic black Audi. It’s a stunning car, but not one of those flashy look at me, I think I have a big penis ones. It’s immaculate.

  “Thanks again, Reid. I’ll just be a minute.”

  His reply is nothing more than a nod as he folds his arms.

  “Babe, what’s going on?” Ah, Liam.

  I look over my shoulder and back to Reid. “Be right back.”

  He nods stiffly, jaw set and arms unmoved.

  He’s a man of few words.

  “Hilda is broken. Ser… something belt,” I tell Liam.

  He nods with a smirk. “That’s because you won’t put a new engine in the piece of shit.” His voice isn’t unkind, but we’ve had this same conversation over and over.

  “I want her the same as the day I bought her.”

  He shakes his head. Our argument at the weekend is forgotten. Swept under the rug. “Who’s the guy?”

  “Oh, that’s just Reid. My neighbour. He came to help. That’s how I know what’s wrong with it… though I can’t remember the bloody belt’s name. So, can you fix it?”

  “Leave the keys with me,” he says on a sigh before he holds his hand out.

  “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight?”

  “I’ll pick you up.”

  “Good. I didn’t plan on walking.”

  I wave bye before heading back to Reid.

  He’s leaning against his car with his legs crossed at the ankles, looking around the garage. It smells of oil and probably hasn’t been cleaned in a long time.

  “Thanks for waiting.”

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “Yes. I would probably egg your house later if you left me here, but you definitely had a choice.”

  “I would only be leaving you with your boyfriend.”

  “In a dirty garage. Thanks.” I open his passenger door and get in before he changes his mind. “How old is your car?”

  He gets in and starts the engine. “About five years, why?”

  I run my fingertips over the black leather dash. “It still smells new. Mine smells like McDonald's.”

  “I clean it, Mila.”

  “Hey, I clean mine.” Okay, not as often as I should, but it’s not gross. I probably only have the equivalent of two outfits in there.

  “Sure, you do.”

  “Nothing is growing mould in there, so it’s clean.”

  He snorts. “Don’t ever work as a cleaner.”

  “You’re so funny.”

  His smile widens.

  “You work for Wilson Press, r
ight?”

  He does a double take, looking at me and the road. It’s adorable.

  “Wait. Am I not supposed to know that? You should hide your profession better if you want it to be a secret, Clark Kent. Manuscripts everywhere; some with the publishing house name on. You even take them to the pub.”

  “It’s not a secret. I just didn’t think you were that observant.”

  “Should I be offended?”

  “I hope not.”

  This guy might be ‘bite your tongue off’ gorgeous, but he’s also confusing as hell. I can’t figure him out. “All right,” I reply. I guess I won’t be offended, then.

  I watch him as he drives. Reid Walker is a beautiful man. He looks like one of those models you’re positive isn’t real with cheekbones you could ski down, and dark, almond-shaped, come to bed eyes, as well as lips you want to eat.

  He drives at the top end of the speed limit, but like everything else in his life, he’s perfectly in control. I have never seen him operate on emotion before. He’s always seemed so… well, perfect. I would love to hear him screaming expletives, kicking something, or generally making a mistake.

  His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  Ooh, am I going to see him do something now? Though, I would prefer it if he didn’t flip out in a moving vehicle.

  “I’m fine. Do you have class today?”

  “I have a full afternoon, yeah.”

  “How will you get there?”

  “I’ll fly.” His dark eyes cut to me. “I’ll take the bus, Reid!”

  Laughter isn’t what I expected. I like his laugh. It’s husky, sexy, and sounds like he’s just woken up. Or even better, just come.

  “And why is that funny?” I ask.

  “You don’t seem like the kind of girl to get on public transport.”

  What the hell is his opinion of me? Do I come across as a spoiled brat? I choose to live at home, but my parents don’t spoil me… much. That doesn’t make me an ungrateful cow.

  “I don’t know what that means,” I tell him.

  “Never mind.”

  We’ll sidestep that one. “Tell me about your job. I prefer it when we’re not talking about me.”

  “I’m an editor.”

  “Yeah, I know that. It’s so cool. I’d love to read all day and tell people what sucks. What’s the best part, though?”

  “Seeing one of my author’s books on the shelf.”

  My heart skips a beat. I would give anything for that. “Not telling authors they suck, then?”

  Laughing, he expertly swerves the car around a corner. “I never use those exact words.”

  “Ah, right. Don’t piss on their fireworks. What do you say?” I hold up my hand as he opens his mouth. “No, wait, let me guess. You tell them it has promise but needs some work.”

  “Something like that.”

  I place my hands back on the dash. This time I’m not admiring it, I’m trying not to die as we fly around a corner. “Where’s the fire, dude? We’re not fleeing a zombie apocalypse, and if we were, we would be heading into the forest.”

  “Nervous passenger?”

  “Death sucks.”

  He eases off the accelerator, though I’m confident he was in control. “Yes, it does.”

  “Will you let me read a manuscript? Or maybe all of them? Yes, not just one manuscript, I definitely want everything.”

  Seconds of silence stretches into minutes. “I suppose. You can’t share them with anyone. In fact, you can’t take them out of my house.”

  “Is that your way of getting me over the threshold so you can chain me up in a room? I don’t much care for being tied up.” My heart makes a traitorous leap at the thought. Down girl. He’s not ours. I clear my head of anything that shouldn’t be there. “How big is your house, anyway? Your parents moved, right? Why did you stay in a house too large for you?”

  “And breathe.”

  I scowl.

  “Sorry.” He smiles. “No, I won’t chain you up. Not unless you ask me nicely.”

  Well, the image of Reid tying me to his bed is back, and I don’t think it’s going anywhere this time. My gaze falls to his mouth, and then lower to his chest.

  He’s the strong, silent book type with a face that melts underwear. Too good to be true. He must be a serial killer.

  “The house has three bedrooms. Yes, they moved back to our hometown. No, I didn’t want to leave.”

  “How come? No offence or anything, but I’ve never seen you with anyone. You’re not very people-y.”

  “Do you spy on me often?”

  “Not as a rule. You live opposite me, and I’m not that unobservant.”

  “I have friends, Mila.”

  “I’m not suggesting that you’re a hermit. You just don’t seem… happy.”

  He frowns, staring at the road. I can see my words playing on repeat in his head. Have I hit a nerve?

  “What do I know, though? I smile all the time but I still feel like there’s something missing.”

  I clamp my mouth closed.

  Word vomit, Mila. Shut up.

  “What’s missing?” he asks so quietly, I almost miss it over the hum of the engine.

  “I don’t know. I have the perfect family, I love my course, I sort of know what I want to do when I’ve finished, and I have a guy who is nice.” I clear my throat. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I’m ungrateful.”

  “That isn’t it.”

  “Oh, you know what it is, do you? Mind sharing your thoughts with me? Because I’ve been in my head for twenty-one years now and I still have no clue.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not saying I have all the answers, but I know there’s nothing wrong with you.”

  How can I have the most amazing childhood, the best family and friends, and still not feel right? I have fun, I laugh, and I’m genuinely loving life most of the time. There’s this little voice in the back of my head that keeps saying, ‘You want more’. Like I’m Oliver fucking Twist.

  “I’ve thought about seeing a therapist to get my head checked.” I lower my eyes. Why am I telling him this? The man has some sort of powers that makes you spill things you don’t want people to know.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that, Mila, if you think it will help you figure out whatever you feel is missing. Tell me, though… you said Liam is nice.”

  “Nice is a good thing. Come on, you know words.”

  “I do, and you used words like love and perfect to describe your family and uni.”

  Damn it, he’s got me there. “You think Liam is wrong for me, too?”

  “That’s for you to decide. It was just an observation.”

  I slump back in the seat and fold my arms.

  “You said too. Do other people think he’s wrong for you?” he asks.

  “Wren and Indie. My parents like him but they never talk of anything long term the way they do with Hugo’s girlfriend.”

  My big brother and Louisa will be engaged within six months, I can feel it. Spencer and Indie are getting married in the winter.

  “Could be worse. He could be a pimp.”

  Reid frowns, his eyes snapping between the road and me in a double take that makes me laugh.

  “I’m kidding. Though, that would be worse.”

  “What goes on in that mind of yours?”

  “I’m not sure I understand it half the time.”

  “What are you looking for? What do you want?” He pulls into his drive before he turns to me.

  “I want my friends and family to be happy.”

  “What do you want for you?”

  “The same, I guess.” Sighing, I look out of the window and over to the room in his house I often see him in. “I want to fall in love—proper love. The kind that consumes you, you know?”

  There it is. I’m not madly in love with Liam. I was when I was younger, and now I’m desperately searching for it again.

  “
I know the one,” he says, his voice rough.

  I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend. I’ve also never looked that hard. He has friends apparently, and I’ve never seen him with them.

  “You’re not consumed by Liam?”

  Closing my eyes, I shake my head. My stomach is heavy with guilt. I shouldn’t keep getting back together with him knowing that I’m not in love with him.

  “I’m being so unfair.”

  He unbuckles his seatbelt and twists to face me fully. “You’re trying, and you can’t fault that. Sometimes a relationship will never work no matter how much effort you put in. There’s no shame in walking away, and there’s no shame in getting help.”

  “Help? Like couple therapy?”

  He opens his car door. “If he’s who makes you happy.”

  “What makes you happy?” I ask.

  He raises his eyebrow. “Happiness is… I’m working on it.”

  I don’t really know him, but I feel like I understand him in this moment. It hits me like a tidal wave and makes my pulse thump.

  Reid and I are both a little lost.

  Four

  Reid

  The girl who is always smiling, always larger than life, isn’t truly happy.

  I have the strongest urge to march over to her house and fix that.

  The manuscript in front of me might as well be written in Mandarin.

  She’s interrupted my day, and I know I won’t be able to get back on track. All I can think about is her walking around, feeling like something is missing and trying to figure it out. I can sympathise. I haven’t been happy for a long time. I haven’t felt true happiness, ever. There have been good moments, of course, but I’ve never felt content.

  Well, I think I was reasonably close when my parents took my sister and me to Disney World when I was six. The point is, Mila and I have more in common than I thought.

  I should force myself to focus. The deadline is looming, and Leonard is expecting this back soon. I’m still only halfway.

  Dropping the pages on my desk, I grab my mug and get up. Maybe another coffee and a thirty minute break will help get me back on track.

  Is she really going to take the bus to uni?

  All right, she’s not a child, and the bus is perfectly safe… but my car is safer.