Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rhett
This heat’s making me cranky. I’ve lived my whole life in the South and I’m still not used to it.
It’s unnatural for it to be seven o’clock in the morning and to have a bead of sweat on your brow.
I have to set both coffees on the ground to have the hands to unlock the bar.
Mary London’s supposed to meet me here this morning to make some decisions on things I need to order for the build-out.
She’s not due for an hour, but I wanted to get inside and tidy things up.
I spend half that time doing just that, picking up, sweeping, and even pulling out a mop for the kitchen area in the back.
The whole time I argue internally about why I’m doing it.
This isn’t my bar. It’s Mary London’s. Who cares if it’s dusty while I’m doing the build-out? Construction is dirty. Full stop.
I just can’t seem to erase the image of her in here with her fancy clothes paired with pristine shoes and hair and makeup that probably took more than an hour to do. She doesn’t belong in a dirty shell of a building.
“Hello?”
I hear a feminine voice call out in the middle of my mental argument.
Quickly setting the mop aside, I step out of the kitchen into the space that will soon be a bar.
There she is, looking like the sun beaming outside has managed to step inside.
Broad smile, gorgeous dress in pale yellow today that only sets off her deep tan and smooth skin.
“You’re early.”
Yep, that’s what I say. Instead of good morning, or damn you look like the essence of life in its purest self.
It was the phone call two nights ago. She went from pretty little fake woman to a woman with depths. Now she’s not only beautiful, she’s intriguing. And I don’t know what to do with that kind of attraction.
Mary London points her thumb over her shoulder. “Should I leave and come back?”
Mentally, I punch myself in the face. I move across the concrete and grab the sweating iced mocha off the floor to hand it to her. “No. I’m glad you’re here early.”
The increase in the wattage of her smile is enough payback to keep me from being embarrassed to admit that I like her here.
She takes the coffee from me and does that same eyes-closed-moment-of-silence-groan thing that makes me picture other ways in which I could make her moan like that.
I clear my throat and grab my own coffee, looking anywhere but the woman who’s hired me.
The woman who’s given me a chance to show off what I can do so I hopefully get more jobs in Heaven and can support my son.
“So, I ordered all the appliances you had on your list, except the ice wells. They were the wrong size for the cabinets. Do you want different cabinets or different ice wells?” I’m word-vomiting, but I can’t seem to help it.
“Hmm.” Mary London takes another sip of coffee. I look away again. “Do you have an alternative ice well I can look at? I particularly liked the hammered-copper look.”
“I brought my laptop to show you the options.” I look around, spotting my laptop not far from my bucket of tools. Then I realize the issue. There’s no table and no chairs here yet.
Mary London must realize the same thing. She follows me over to the side wall where my laptop lies. “I can sit on the floor.”
I give her body a once-over that I hope isn’t inappropriate. “In that dress? No.”
Mary London sputters out a laugh. “Dirt comes out in the wash, you know.”
I shake my head. She shouldn’t even be in here in the state this place is in right now.
Sure, I swept the floor for the major debris from the demo that happened before I got here, but there’s like an inch of dirt and dust on the ground still.
Making a quick decision, I take off my cowboy hat and pull my work T-shirt out of the waistband of my jeans.
“You don’t have—”
Mary London’s protest cuts off right around the moment I get the shirt over my head. I shake it out and lay it down on the ground by the wall so she’ll have something to lean back against. When I look up, her mouth’s open and she’s frozen in place.
I realize I’m half naked in front of her, but what choice was there? “Sorry, for…” I gesture to my bare chest.
Mary London blinks and suddenly the tension snaps as she laughs, coming over to where I spread the shirt. “Oh, I’m not sorry, honey.”
I swear to God my cheeks burn at her comment.
She spins her finger in the air and it takes me a second to realize she wants me to give her my back.
I do, waiting until I hear her settle on the ground before I turn back around.
She’s got her dress settled around her tan thighs, ankles crossed and knees bent to the side.
She looks like we’re having a goddamn picnic in the middle of her future bar.
“The ice wells?”
I snap back to the present and sit next to her, opening my laptop and showing her the various wells that will actually fit.
She picks one that’s fairly similar to her original choice and I place the order.
I also have her look through various flooring and we order three samples.
Thankfully, she doesn’t seem wishy-washy on her choices, which is great for the tight turnaround.
She wants this place open in the new year which means there’s very little room for error.
“I also need a copy of all the pulled permits so they stay here on the premise. Some city councils can get picky about those things.” I switch to breathing through my mouth so I don’t have a lungful of her sweet-and-spicy perfume.
It’s not too much and it smells great. I just can’t organize my thoughts if I’m breathing her in.
“Sure. But if you run in to any problems, call me immediately. I’ll get Janie on it. She won’t let them harass you.”
“Good to know the right people,” I grumble.
Mary London shrugs and I fuck up and breathe through my nose. Dammit, she smells good. “That’s the way life works, isn’t it?”
I grunt, not wanting to get into the way life works for people who don’t have good connections. It’s a life Mary London wouldn’t understand.
“I’m going to need another water input and drain for the bar area. Plumber says he can get here tomorrow for that.”
She nods, thinking it through. “The architect said two sinks would be enough. Do you agree with that?”
“Given the square footage you have, yeah, that seems plenty. But he’d know better than me.”
Mary London snorts, then wiggles her hands out in the air in front of her. “Help me up, would ya?”
I set the laptop aside and stand up, stretching out my cramped legs before reaching for her hands.
She pops up, but doesn’t immediately let go of my hands.
I’m acutely aware of how tiny she is compared to me.
She has her head tilted back with a little smile on her face.
Not the one she gives customers. This one is calmer. Maybe more genuine. No less effective.
“Don’t undervalue your expertise, Rhett Price. Some architect in a fancy building in the city doesn’t know what you know with boots on the ground. If you say two sinks is enough, that gives me more confidence than that architect who’s never set foot in a honky-tonk.”
Now she lets go of me and walks over to where the long bar will be. “We had fifteen barstools on the plans, but I keep walking it out. Seems tight.”
She paces down the length of the eventual bar, spinning every two feet or so to pretend she’s sitting in a chair.
My lips tug up into a smile watching her go.
I snatch my shirt off the floor and pull it over my head.
Don’t want anyone to walk by and see me alone with Mary London without a shirt on.
That’s how gossip spreads in a little town like this.
While she counts off barstools in her head, I pull out my cell phone and snap a picture of Mary London in her element. Her head lifts at the noise because I never silence my phone, just in case Rylan needs me. “What are you doin’?”
Oh shit, her hand went to her hip and she tilted her head. It’s the classic pissed-off-woman stance.
I show her the picture, which is flattering. I doubt this woman could take an unflattering photo. “It’s you. In your element. To look back on and see what this thing started as.”
She grabs my hand holding the phone and turns to look at me. All that suspicion and fire in her eyes is gone. She’s back to being soft, warm, and insanely beautiful Mary London. “Anyone ever told you you’re the sweetest thing, Rhett Price?”
I make a noise that’s half grunt, half scoff. “Never.”
Mary London just beams at me. “Well, now you have. Take some more.”
She spins away and stands in the middle of the empty space, her arms overhead and wide like she just hiked to the top of a mountain.
The pose pulls her dress up higher on her thighs.
I ignore that exposed skin as much as I can and snap more photos.
She lowers her arms, crosses them over her chest, and strikes a pose like the CEO of a Fortune 500 company would.
This woman knows how to model. Every picture looks worthy of the cover of a magazine.
Finally, she tosses her head back and laughs.
I snap a photo of that too, though that one might be only for me.
“Leave it to me to turn a working hour into a photoshoot. I’m a sorority girl at heart, hon.
” Mary London rushes over to the middle of the space, toward the back.
“Just one more, I promise! This is where the mechanical bull will be.”
“You ever ridden one?” I ask, following her over.
Her laugh makes my mouth tip up into a grin. “Yes! One time in Louisiana ten-some years ago. I loved it! Swore I’d get one if I ever opened a bar. ’Course that idea stuck in my brain and simmered, you know?”
I wonder what it must be like to have lofty dreams, believing that they’re absolutely possible.
“Well, now, you gotta ride the imaginary bull,” I drawl, thinking she’ll laugh me off. Proper Mary London in heels and dress would never be so silly to ride an imaginary bull.
Except she does.
She steps wide, puts one hand on her hip, one in the air and begins to toss her torso forward and back.
She looks positively ridiculous. A bark of laughter erupts from my chest before I can pull it back.
She starts laughing with me, in between whoops of excitement like there’s a lively bar all around her.
“You’re not filming this!” she accuses, still gyrating on thin air. And she’s right. I totally forgot my part.
I hit record and let her go for another few seconds before hollering, “Miss Mary London’s set a new record of eight seconds on Wild Bill!”
She stops her gyrating and swings a leg over the imaginary bull, then drops into a curtsy. It’s so fucking cute I think I fall just a little bit in love with her right then and there. She lifts out of the curtsy, eyes sparkling, cheeks pink, and laughter still flowing.
“Just so you know, we ain’t naming him Wild Bill,” she drawls when she can pull in a full breath. She pats my chest, entirely too close to me.
I grin down at her. “Maybe that’s just the imaginary bull’s name.”
Mary London winks at me. “He’ll be our little secret.”
We stare at each other, laughter dying away, breathing each other’s air until we realize what’s happening and she steps back. I clear my throat.
My hand rubs the back of my neck like that’ll eliminate the tension. “I’ll send you the pictures so you have them. We can recreate them once the build-out is done.”
The smile she aims my way is back to the one she gives customers. “You think of everything.”
“That’s my job.”
Remembering my place is like a splash of cold water to the face.
What the fuck am I doing lovestruck over a girl who grew up opposite of me?
Mary London went to college, was one of those sorority girls flittin’ around town, and grew up with supportive parents.
I grew up with none of that. I’m actin’ a fool thinking there’s an attraction between us.
I need to focus on completing this job and getting referrals for others so I can support myself and my son. That’s all that matters.
“Well, I better get to work. I promised Maggie the bar wouldn’t affect my ability to help at the boutique. Don’t need my best employee quittin’ on me, now do we?”
“No, ma’am.”
She turns to look at me like she’s not quite ready to leave. “Thank you, Rhett.”
“Just doing my job.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. And then she’s gone, leaving me to get to work on creating her dream. Even hours later, I swear I can still smell the ghost of her perfume.