No Chance in Hell

When Hell Freezes Over

"Ouch," Reggie said, pretending to look wounded as he put a hand to his chest. "Was that your way of rejecting me?"

"Didn't I already throw a drink in your face?" Both of them smiled, and Penelope licked her lips under his piercing stare. His eyes were the prettiest shade of green, and she found herself getting lost in them. Dear God, did she find him attractive?

Reggie leaned over to whisper in her ear, and she shivered again. "I don't know how the hell Bridgerton let you get away. You're fucking hot, Red."

Penelope tensed at the mention of Colin, and she was suddenly reminded of that night. "Well, you know what they say about fat girls and redheads," she replied bitterly, remembering who she was dealing with.

Reggie at least had the decency to look apologetic. "Fuck," he groaned. "I'm sorry you heard that. I have to say, that night, I may have had one too many whisky sours," he joked, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Penelope laughed in spite of herself. "It's alright," she shrugged. "You were just being honest." She could hardly fault him for that. Besides, he's Fife, and it's not like they were best friends or anything.

"No," he insisted. "I was being a dick. I'm truly sorry, Penelope. You don't deserve to be talked about like that."

"Reggie, it's all good," she assured him, brushing a hand across his arm, almost as a reflex. "Like I said, I can hardly fault you guys for being honest."

Reggie looked away, suddenly appearing embarrassed. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him embarrassed. He was blushing and nervously rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "Well, I wasn't entirely honest that night," he mumbled.

"What do you mean?" She asked, curious as to where this would lead.

All of a sudden, his eyes snapped towards hers, and he gazed at her intensely. "I mean, I like you, Red," he whispered. "I just always assumed that you were off limits because you were Bridgerton's girl."

"Oh," she squeaked. She was really not expecting that. "I'm not," she said. "His girl, I mean. We're just friends. Were," she corrected herself.

Reggie leaned in closer. "His loss," he whispered, his voice like gravel, sending a shot straight to her core. God, did she want to fuck Reginald Fife?

Penelope shook herself out of her daze. "Yeah, I'm sure it's a real weight off him now," she grumbled.

Reggie shrugged, grazing a hand along her arm. "Bridgerton always was pretty weak. Unlike me, who can bench well above his weight class," he said lowly, sliding that hand along her waist.

Penelope swallowed thickly and blushed bright red. "Haha, right," she giggled nervously.

"Hey, Red?" He asked, playing with one of her curls, the other hand still squeezing her firmly above the hip. She barely nodded. "Do you want to get out of here?"

She almost nodded again, but realizing this was most definitely a terrible idea, Penelope glanced at the dance floor to see Eloise and Gen motioning her over. Thank God. She had to get away from...whatever this was. "You know what? I do," she admitted, then grabbed her bag and dodged through the crowd. "See ya, Reggie!"

"Wait, can I at least get your number?!" He yelled after her.

"Sure, when hell freezes over," she laughed.

"I'll keep asking, Red," he promised with a disarming grin.

Penelope stopped and turned to him with her arms crossed. "That sounds an awful lot like harassment," she mused with an arched brow and smirk as he caught up to her.