Wanting more, I nudged him under the table with my leg. “Are you afraid they’ll be too wild for us to be around? Is that why we’re dining away from them?”
His hand fell to my knee and remained there, hidden under the tablecloth. “I’m sure that nothing’s too wild for you, Blue Eyes. But I don’t know all of them. Besides, I thought you might enjoy the quieter atmosphere for a change.”
“Hmm,” I said in vague agreement, trying not to let his touch distract me. While the setting was indeed pleasant, I sensed there was more to the alteration in our routine than simply that Reeve didn’t want to mingle with strangers. He didn’t trust them, it seemed. Was he protecting me from them because he wanted to be sure no one else laid a hand on me? Or because he believed they were somehow a real threat?
The question immediately left my mind when a figure appeared at the door.
“Amber!” I exclaimed, surprised to see her downstairs. Though her posture still seemed weak, her pallor was much better than when I’d left her. Relief rushed through me, and I realized for the first time exactly how terrible she’d looked and how worrying her appearance had been. It was extremely comforting to know she’d gotten through the worst of it. Reassuring to see that she would bounce back.
That feeling only lasted a handful of seconds before anxiety crept in. I wanted her well, I really did. But with the return of her health, I could no longer ignore the threat she posed to me. She was a beautiful, vibrant woman – a beautiful, vibrant woman that Reeve had once loved. Maybe even still did.
And that terrified me as much as the thought of never finding her alive once had.
Reeve twisted in his chair to look at her, his hand leaving my leg as he did. “You made it.” He nodded at a servant who stepped forward and pulled out the empty chair across from Reeve.
Joe jumped up and met Amber at the door, and immediately I felt awful for not thinking of it. “Need to lean?”
She smiled, the full flirty grin I recognized from days gone by. “Why thank you, Joe.” She linked her arm through his and let him lead her to her seat.
If Reeve felt remorse for not being the one to attend to her, he didn’t show it. “I had a place set for you,” he said, as another servant made his way toward us with the warming cart, “in case you felt up to joining us. From Jeb’s last report, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I fidgeted in my seat. The uncertainty of what to expect or how to behave brought such a heavy air of tension that I was sure everyone had to be feeling it as well. I glanced at the men and found them both stoic and unreadable.
Amber, however, seemed quite comfortable. She settled into her seat and unfolded her napkin as though she felt right at home. “It’s interesting you get your reports from Jeb when there are other ways you could check up on me.” She placed the linen in her lap, keeping her eyes pinned on the man opposite her.
Reeve arched a brow. “Meaning?”
“You haven’t been by. I thought you might be avoiding me.” Her delivery was light and playful. Only Amber could make an accusation sound like she was teasing. I’d forgotten that about her, forgotten how often she snuck her jabs in under dimples and flashes of ivory teeth.
“Not avoiding you. It’s been a busy few days.” Under the tablecloth, Reeve’s hand returned to my leg, higher on my thigh this time.
I forced myself not to react, directing my attention to cutting my steak. While I always loved the way my body buzzed when he touched me, the gesture was totally inappropriate and it made me suspicious of his motives. I wanted to be his, wanted him to be open about our relationship, but if this were something else – if I were merely a pawn in a game of revenge, I wouldn’t participate.
I started to push him away, but the glance he shot me told me that he wouldn’t let me dictate his actions.
For the moment at least, she was unaware, and arguing with Reeve would only draw her attention. So I let his hand remain, and, truthfully, I liked it. Liked how he touched me when she was sitting so near.
Maybe I liked being a pawn after all.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as the server laid a plate in front of Amber and filled her empty glass with water.
“I’m actually feeling pretty okay at the moment. Much better than this morning. Jeb gave me my evening dose about forty minutes ago, which helps. I figure I have an hour or two before I start spiraling downward.”
She looked pointedly at Reeve’s wine as she picked up her water. “I definitely think I’m ready to not need babysitting anymore.”
I lowered my gaze again to my plate. The underlying discord between Reeve and Amber was palpable, and it shook me up. It would be easy to decide that the contention meant that their relationship was entirely in the past, but I was smarter than that. I understood intricacies of human relationships, specifically of Amber relationships and even Reeve relationships. She wouldn’t be holding on to hostility if she didn’t still feel something.
And Reeve wouldn’t be monitoring her beverage consumption if he didn’t care as well.
Oh, God, how I didn’t want him to care!
I loathed myself for that wish. Of course he should care. His concern didn’t have to mean anything about me. But rationale doesn’t work on emotion, and instead of understanding his compassion, I felt bitter and raw.
“Alcohol is not recommended with methadone or addiction recovery,” Reeve said dispassionately. “If you want it, you’ll have to find someone else to provide it.” She opened her mouth to interject, but he didn’t let her. “And the people taking shifts with you are not babysitters. They’re there to help you.”