Where We Call Home (Faircloud #2)

Chapter 21

Twenty-One

“ W hy is he crying?” Rhodes asked, pointing at the TV.

I barely spared him a glance, pausing the show for what felt like the millionth time. After dinner, I’d settled in to catch up on one of my favorite reality shows, and now Rhodes had decided to join me, clearly getting invested.

“Because the judges loved his collection.”

“Okay, but... why is he mad?” He gestured toward another designer in a sequined blazer glaring daggers at the crying man.

“Because he thought the judges hated his collection more,” I explained. “But instead, they called it ‘a bold take on modern fashion,’ and now he’s pissed that the crying guy stole the spotlight.”

Rhodes blinked at me, then back at the TV. “This is chaos.”

“This is art ,” I corrected, tossing a popcorn kernel into my mouth.

I smirked to myself. Rhodes had started the night scrolling on his phone, throwing casual glances at the screen, but every glance lasted a little longer until he was hooked. He’d never admit it, I could just tell.

I hit play and resumed the show, determined not to pause again even when he felt the urge to chime in because I knew he was bound to.

We sat in comfortable silence as the show carried on in the background. His phone was flat on his chest as he relaxed back, his hands behind his head.

After dinner, he’d helped with the dishes, we shared some casual small talk, and then he went off to shower. I thought maybe he’d head to his room and call it an early night since he had to go to the ranch in the morning, instead, he sat with me on the couch.

We shared parts of a blanket, which should have felt intimate, however it felt natural.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rhodes said, leaning back. “They spend, what, a week making clothes?”

“Three days,” I replied, holding up three fingers without looking away from the screen.

“Three days?” he scoffed. “To make outfits people either cry about or insult, and then some guy in a hat tells them, ‘You’re out’? That’s the whole show?”

I gasped, clutching my chest in exaggerated horror. “Excuse me? Some guy in a hat ? That’s a legend you’re talking about.”

“A legend?” Rhodes raised an eyebrow. “For telling people their clothes suck?”

“For revolutionizing the industry,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And it’s not just about the clothes. It’s about the drama, the artistry, the?—”

“The drama,” he cut in, smirking. “Got it.”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but he caught it, laughing.

“You’re such a guy.”

“And you’re way too into this.”

“I am not,” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s just a fun way to relax.”

“Uh-huh.” Rhodes glanced back at the screen. “So... who’s the guy in the fur vest? Is he supposed to look like that, or did he lose a bet?”

I groaned, his smirk was so damn cute. “That’s Bruno. He’s known for pushing boundaries.”

“Boundaries between what? Fashion and bad decisions?”

“You wouldn’t get it. Fashion isn’t just about clothes—it’s an art form.” I nudged his leg with my foot.

Rhodes grabbed my foot and pulled it into his lap, his hands beginning to massage it in that infuriatingly wonderful way he had before. I tried to focus on the TV, but the man was a distraction.

He studied me for a moment, his teasing grin softening. “You really like this stuff, huh?”

My cheeks warmed and I nodded. “I do. It’s kind of inspiring. Watching people pour their hearts into something they care about, even if it’s ridiculous sometimes, you know?”

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I get that. I mean, it’s not my thing, but... I get it.”

Our eyes met, and something about the sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. “Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime,” he said, leaning back. “Now, tell me—if I were a designer, what would I make?”

I laughed, my stomach shaking. “Oh, that’s easy. A basic black T-shirt and jeans to show off your ass.”

The words were out before I could stop them. My hand flew to my mouth as my cheeks flamed.

Rhodes grinned his smile on full display. “Theo, are you saying you like my ass?”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Don’t make me answer that.”

He chuckled, pulling my hands away from my face. “It’s okay. I like your honesty. And for the record, if I were a designer, I’d make clothes for people to relax in. No sequins, no fur vests, just comfort.”

“Why am I not surprised,” I teased.

We shared a laugh and I wasn’t sure what I enjoyed more, the show or having him here with me.

By the time I was ready for bed, we’d made it through a couple of episodes. When I said we had catching up to do, I wasn’t kidding. At one point, Rhodes got up to make popcorn after I dramatically complained about being hungry. I couldn’t resist tossing a few pieces at him, which he effortlessly caught in his mouth with a cocky grin.

Then, we dug into a bowl of ice cream that now sat half-melted on the coffee table. Neither of us cared. We simply existed in the moment, enjoying the easy rhythm of our time together.

My eyes grew heavy, each blink lasting longer than the last. A yawn escaped as I nestled deeper into the soft pillow beneath me, the sound of the TV fading into the background. I was caught in that hazy space between awake and asleep, where the show still played, but my dreams started to take over.

“Theo, Honey,” a soft voice called, nudging me back to the surface.

“No,” I groaned, pulling the blanket higher over my face.

My body felt weightless, and I vaguely registered the warmth of the couch disappearing. I huffed, half-asleep, searching for it again. Instead of soft cushions, I found something solid, sturdy—something that smelled faintly of clean skin and coffee.

“I got you,” that same gentle voice murmured.

Before I could piece together what was happening, I felt myself being carried. Then, I was placed onto a softer surface, the weight of blankets cocooning me like a cloud.

I rolled over, forcing my heavy eyelids open just enough to see a tall shadow looming over me. A soft smile tugged at my lips, my mind blurring the figure into a fragment of my dream. I felt a gentle brush against my cheek, soothing and tender, pulling me deeper into the lull of sleep and back into my dreamland.

The soft click of a door sounded faint, and I let it fade into the background as sleep fully consumed me. My last thoughts were of the faint familiar scent lingering in the air and the sturdy chest that had carried me so effortlessly away.