Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Mary London
It’s taken all of my willpower to not show up at the bar every morning and evening this week, lookin’ over Rhett’s shoulder to see what progress he’s made.
There’s a fine line between overseeing a project and being a pain in the ass.
The good Lord and my mama’s preachin’ gave me enough sense to know the difference.
I hold up the flooring samples that got delivered to Golden Halo this afternoon instead of the bar. “If you had to pick one, which one would it be?” I ask Maggie when she’s done with a customer.
Maggie taps her chin. “Well, I know we’re talking about a honky-tonk, so I envision a deep wood grain that’ll eventually show scuff marks from all the cowboy boots. No cool gray or cherry or anything weirdly fancy. So, I’d pick the one in the middle.”
I squeal, feeing doubly satisfied. “That’s the one I like too!”
Maggie grins, dusting off her shoulders. “You and I have good taste.”
“Darn right we do, darlin’.” I check the gold watch I inherited from my mother and see that it’s only a half hour to closing time. “I’m gonna see if Rhett’s available for me to swing by with these samples before he leaves off for the weekend.”
“I’m scheduled to close, so feel free to take off.” Maggie’s already moving away to help a young lady who looks like a freshman at the university.
I pull out my phone and text Rhett. My heart starts beating double time just thinking about him without a shirt on.
Dear God, the man must work out all the time.
He’s more my brother’s age, but his body doesn’t seem to have gotten the message.
I’ve also been trying to ignore how sweet he was the other day, giving me his shirt to sit on, taking my picture, and not rolling his eyes at my imaginary bull riding.
Jesus. What was I thinking with that spectacle?
Me: Still at the bar? Flooring samples came in and I want to give them to you so we can make a decision.
It takes a few minutes for that bubble to pop up.
Rhett: I actually left early to pick up Rylan. I’m in the middle of scheduling various contractors for next week.
Me: Great! I’ll swing by your place.
I shut off the phone screen and tuck it into my handbag. My cheeks are flushed and I’m hoping I can blame it on the late summer heat and not the idea of seeing Rhett again.
“See you tomorrow, Mags!”
She lifts her head and waves me off. I nod hello to several people as I walk to my car, flooring samples clanking in my arms. It might just be my imagination, or perhaps the endless days of relentless heat and humidity this summer have dulled my senses, but it certainly feels like the temperature has dropped.
There’s a tantalizing whiff of fall in the air.
I don’t dare say it out loud or it might lead to more unbearable humidity before true autumn hits.
The drive over is lovely, my beautiful town flicking past my window and air-conditioning blasting in my fancy car.
I bought this girl with cash three years ago, probably spending too much for the exact features I wanted.
She still has a bit of that new-car smell.
I might cry the day it wears off for good.
The area gets a little more run down as I bounce over the railroad tracks. The trees are still tall and green and gorgeous, but the houses get smaller and there’s a mix of well-taken-care-of homes, and ones that haven’t seen a paintbrush in a few decades.
Rhett’s is one of the ones that has good bones but needs maintenance.
I’m sure he’ll get to it. Must be hard owning your own business and being a single dad.
Probably not a lot of free time in his schedule for working on his house.
As I turn into the driveway, I see the house as it could be: a gorgeous Victorian that just needs maintenance, landscaping, and the kind of outdoor decor they flaunt in The Sip magazine.
Rhett answers the door clad in dirty jeans, another T-shirt like the one I sat on at the jobsite, and bare feet.
His hair is a bit of a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it on repeat, the ever-present indent from his cowboy hat also present.
He looks good. Like coming home to all this manliness would be enough to get you through a hard day at work.
“Mary London.” He says my name like it’s a surprise to see me.
“I did tell you I was comin’, right?”
He blinks and reaches out to take the heavy flooring samples from my hands. “Sure. Yeah. Come on in.”
“Mary London?” Rylan calls from the top of the stairs.
“Hey, sugar!” I call back. “You too busy now to come work for me?”
“Heck no!” he hollers back.
“Rylan,” Rhett grouses. “Don’t yell. Come down here.”
Rylan clomps down the stairs looking sheepish. “Sorry.”
I pull him in for a hug. Teen boys are hilarious to me. Probably because I don’t have any that I have to try to raise. He pats my back almost awkwardly, so I let him go. I forget that not everyone likes hugging everybody they see.
“I’ve got an awning that would love to be painted. You available?”
“Sure.” He whips out his phone and thumbs to his calendar app. “I can do Wednesday after school.”
I beam with pride. “Look at you. Keeping a schedule of jobs like a grown-up.”
“Don’t you need to ask me if I can drive you over?” Rhett asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Rylan’s shoulders sag. “If you’d buy me a car, I could drive myself to jobs.”
Rhett doesn’t seem to like that answer. “If you’d quit spending your money on a girl, you could afford a car yourself.”
I hold up my hands like I’m a referee standing between two boxers. “Hold your fire, gents! I come in peace.” I turn to Rylan. “I’ll see you Wednesday.” I give Rhett side eye. “As long as your dad can drop you off. You let me know for sure.”
Rylan’s grin is lopsided. “Sounds good.” Then he’s bounding up the stairs again, making so much noise I feel like he must have lead in those shoes of his.
Rhett’s on his phone when I turn back around. I wait for him to do whatever he’s doing, then point to the samples he dumped on the entryway table that looks like an antique. I wouldn’t have taken Rhett for an antique kind of guy.
“I have a favorite, but I want to know yours first.”
He tucks his phone in his back pocket and examines the samples. He doesn’t just look at the coloring like I did. He holds them up, weighs them in his hand, turns them sideways to look at the thickness, and tries to bend them. After all that, he dumps them on the table and turns to me.
“I like the brown one.”
I wave a hand at them with a laugh. “They all have some brown in them.”
He reaches down, grabs the one I declared my favorite, and hands it to me. “This one.”
I positively beam at him. Honestly, working with him so far has been so dang easy. “That’s great, because that was my favorite too.”
He gestures to the dining room behind us. “How about we sit and I’ll get the flooring ordered?”
As we sit across from each other, he squints at the screen and clicks away. I do what I do best. I chatter, telling him about the progress pictures I got from the wood guy who’s making my custom bar, then about the barstools I’ve been eyeing, and finally the artwork for the bathrooms.
The doorbell rings, making me jump. Rhett lifts his head and grunts a few words at me.
I think he said he’ll be back. I look around the dining room at the old, faded wallpaper and the still exquisite crown molding and chair rail.
With a bit of new wallpaper and paint, this room could be stunning.
Rhett mumbles at the front door and then I hear it close.
He’s back with two white grocery bags and a stack of paper plates, which he plops on the table.
“Dinner is served. I hope you like Chinese.”
My mouth drops open. “Did…did you just order food delivery?”
I know the kids at the university in town do it all the time, but that is such a city-boy thing to do. Again, I’ve underestimated Rhett. The cowboy hat and gruff attitude make me think he’s a country boy, but he’s not.
Rhett runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. Did you already have plans? That’s fine too. Rylan will definitely eat all of this if I let him.”
“No, I don’t have plans,” I admit. “I just didn’t expect you to have food delivered, ’Lanta.”
Rhett’s mouth twists to the side. “’Lanta?”
I shrug, leaning forward to see what’s in the bags. It smells delicious. “Yeah. You’re a city boy. Atlanta, right?”
Rhett huffs. “Yes, but I’m from here.”
“That’s what you say, but your delivery habits speak otherwise. ’Lanta.” I add the nickname just to see him huff again. He’s cute when he huffs.
“Rylan! Dinner!” I holler in the direction of the stairs.
Rhett’s hands go to his hips in irritation. “How can I tell him not to yell when you’re yellin’?”
I have to bite back my smile as I open all four Styrofoam containers, each containing a different Chinese dish. “Not my problem, ’Lanta.”
Rhett actually growls under his breath as he takes a seat. “Just for that, I’m taking the beef and broccoli.”
“That’s my favorite!” I yelp, trying to grab for it. Rhett pulls it out of my reach.
Rylan falls into a chair at the head of the table and reaches for the orange chicken. “That’s Dad’s favorite too. He’s always hoggin’ it.”
Rhett’s gaze meets mine for a beat. I roll my bottom lip out and try out a pout. He rolls his eyes, but relents, shoving the container of beef and broccoli my way. I immediately drop the pout.
“I’ll share, I promise.”
Rhett just grunts. We all dish up our plates while Rylan chatters on about school and then working for Mr. Barrett yesterday.
Apparently, he had Rylan rake his whole yard and bag it, then stood over his shoulder and watched the whole time to keep tabs on him.
That old man needs to come with a warning label.
I’m stuffed to the gills by the time we’re done eating.
True to form, Rylan ate everything his father and I didn’t get to.
“You gonna stay for a movie, Mary London? Since I don’t have friends here yet, we’ve made it a habit of watching a movie together on Friday nights.” Rylan looks at me with a painfully young hopeful expression.
Rhett jumps in before I can answer. “I’m sure she has better things to do, son.”
I don’t much like a man telling me what I should be doing. “Actually…” I lean toward Rylan. “I’d love to, but only if we bake some dessert. You got the ingredients for cookies or somethin’ sweet?”
Rhett rubs the back of his neck, like my staying is getting on his nerves. “I think I might have some brownie mix in the pantry.”
“Boxed brownie mix, Rhett Price? Really?”
He gives me a deadpan look.
I made a big show, sighing like I’m compromising something important, which I kind of am. Mama would roll over in her grave if she saw me baking from a box. “I guess it’ll have to do. Come on, Rylan. You’re helping me bake.”
I complain about box brownies not being real food as we mix it up, just to piss off Rhett as he cleans up our dinner. There’s something gratifying about hearing his annoyed little grunts. The brownies take a good forty minutes to bake, so we head for the living room to start the movie.
I’ve done a good job pushing away the little voice in my head that’s screaming at me, what the hell are we doing here?? I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that. Am I so lonely that I’ll force a family movie night on my contractor and his teenage son?
Apparently yes.
It’s as I take in the living room that I start to doubt myself.
There’s one single solitary couch and three of us.
It’s a big couch, but even so, by sitting in the middle, I’m entirely too close to Rhett.
He’s a big guy, and even with six inches between us, I swear I can feel the heat pouring off of him.
Plus my skirt inches higher as I sit, a fact I know Rhett notices because I see his dark gaze drop the second I sit down.
I don’t mind him looking—the skirt’s not short enough to show anything inappropriate—it’s just that knowing his gaze has been on me makes my skin heat to an uncomfortable level.
I like his gaze on my thighs.
I’d like his gaze on other areas of my body too.
It’s that thought that makes me highly aware of his teenage son sitting on my other side. Talk about inappropriate, Mary!
I don’t even know what movie we’re watching.
All I can do is tune into every slight movement Rhett makes, and he makes a lot of them with his knee bouncing up and down like that.
My feet are killing me in my cute heels, but I can’t kick them off without appearing like I’m settling in to stay awhile.
I mean, I am staying awhile, but being barefoot would somehow be crossing a line.
I can’t even pull my legs under me and get comfortable because I’m wearing a stupid dress.
I really would have to dig a hole and crawl into it if I ended up flashing either one of these Price boys.
Rylan jumps up and jams his phone to his head, leaving the room quickly. Rhett and I watch him go. I look at Rhett, not sure what just happened or if we should pause the movie for him. When I hear his heavy footfalls on the stairs, I think he may not be back anytime soon.
“Probably that girl he’s sweet on,” Rhett grumbles. “He always darts out of the room like his feet are on fire when she calls.”
I shrug. “At least the teens are calling each other. I fear most only text these days.”
“That’s true.”
There’s a few beats of awkward silence, the movie droning on. Should I see myself out? I shift, wincing as the strap on my heels rubs against my ankle bone. These really are the cutest shoes, they’re just not built for being on your feet all day long.
“Something wrong?” Rhett asks.
I look over at him. “Oh, just these heels. They’re cuter than they are practical.”
He flicks his head, pulling a worn blanket from the back of the couch. He spreads it over my lap. “Put your feet up here. I’ll get ’em off.” He pats his legs.
I bite my lip, wondering if I should. I can’t remember the last time a boyfriend of mine took my shoes off for me or was so sweet as to cover my legs so I wouldn’t feel exposed. Wouldn’t it be weird for Rhett to do something so sweet?
He doesn’t give me time to make up my mind.
He reaches down and swoops up both of my legs, depositing my feet on his lap.
I have to lean into the back couch cushion to keep from tipping over.
His rough fingers fumble with the tiny gold buckles on the side of each shoe, but he manages to get them undone.
He slides first one, then the other shoe, off my feet.
And then he takes it one step further, digging his thumbs into the arch of my feet. Pleasure shoots straight up between my legs, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning.
I stand corrected. There’s nothing weird about it.
It’s straight heaven.