Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mary London
Mama and I used to read the same historical romances. She’d read first, pass it on to me, and then we’d chat about the story and characters. Kind of like our own little book club. I haven’t been able to pick up a historical romance since she died. Just…too painful.
However, I remember the tension in those books was so exquisite. Delicious, really. The way the brush of a finger could light the pages on fire. The longing glances. The innocent yet charged moments. Gosh, it was so delicious.
That’s exactly what I’ve been having with Rhett.
Moments.
Brief exchanges where nothing untoward has happened, but everything has happened.
The shape of our relationship has shifted.
The connection between two people who used to be strangers just a few weeks ago is undeniable.
I would swear on fancy diamond earrings that there’s an actual physical electric current that runs from his body to mine.
My knees were trembling when he had me pressed against the wall, his thumb holding my lips open.
Hell, they’re still trembling just thinking about it.
“I’m all done up front!” Maggie chirps, scattering my thoughts.
I lift my head from the computer where I’ve been trying to place an order for more winter clothing. My basket is empty. I’ve been sitting here staring off into space for who knows how long, replaying all the moments with Rhett like a Victorian lady giving in to the vapors.
“Okay,” I paste on a smile. “Have a great evening. Off tomorrow, right?”
Maggie searches my face, but must not find what she’s looking for. Thank goodness. With all the thinking I’ve been doing, I feel like Rhett’s image must be tattooed across my face, my thoughts stamped indelibly across my skin.
“Yep. You know…” She trails off. “You should be taking more days off too. You work too hard, especially with the bar added on top of what you do here. Have you thought about hiring another person?”
I scoff. “I can’t find another Maggie!”
She rolls her eyes, but I see how her smile increases in wattage. “Darn right! But maybe you could find someone half as awesome as me.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Okay. See you Friday.” Maggie leaves, locking the front door behind her.
She’s not wrong. I could probably hire someone part-time right now and free up my hours for work at the bar.
Or a nap. God, what I wouldn’t do for an afternoon nap, especially this week.
But I can’t. Won’t. Not with all my money going toward the build-out of the bar.
I don’t want to spread my finances too thin in case costs increase, which they always seem to do.
Or if the bar fails.
Nope. Not even going to think like that. I did my market research. A cowboy bar should take off here in Heaven, and I won’t let myself consider the alternative. Mary London Winthrop doesn’t fail.
I leave soon after, giving up on the order entirely and heading for the bar to check on Rhett’s progress.
The plumbing for the new sink along the bar should be done by now.
I don’t see him immediately when I walk inside, even though the light fixtures up in the open ceiling are in.
I gasp as I take in the bottom portion of the bar.
There’s no top to it and the trim isn’t in, but the shape of the long bar is finally a real tangible thing, not just some vague image in my head.
“Rhett? You still here?”
“Yep.” He stands up from behind the bar where he was obviously doing something.
I rush over, gushing over the bar. “Oh my goodness, this is amazing! You didn’t tell me you were already working on it!”
He grunts, squatting back down to nail something.
The air compressor is loud as all get-out as he uses the nail gun, the shot of each nail piercing.
I wait until he’s done, a little troubled by the fact that we’re back to grunts and one-word answers.
After Monday night in my boutique, I figured he might be a little warmer around me.
Rhett stands, placing the nail gun down on the unfinished cabinet. He doesn’t look at me, just walks away into the kitchen. The air compressor shuts off and he walks back, wiping his hands on a towel.
I trail my hand along the beginnings of the bar. “This looks amazing.”
Rhett stops in front of me, his arms crossed over his wide chest. I like it when he stands like that. It makes his arms pop with muscle. “I think you’re going to need to find another contractor.”
I lift my gaze from his muscles to his face. I could swear he’s looking over my shoulder and not right at me. I frown. “Like, a plumber? Electrician?”
He dips his head. “No. Like a new general contractor.”
His meaning finally sinks in. My jaw drops as every inch of my skin goes cold. “You’re quitting on me?”
My voice comes out shrill, uncontrolled, a fact I’m not proud of. I suck in a deep breath and count to ten before speaking again, more moderately this time. I’m shaking, no longer from the passion of his touch, but from white-hot anger burning through my chest.
And maybe just a smidge of hurt too.
“I don’t understand. Why can’t you finish the job?”
The blood drains from my face when he doesn’t lift his head to answer me right away. Oh God. Is this because of me? Because I flirted with him? Did I make him uncomfortable? Oh my. This is…this is deeply embarrassing. I’ve been sexually harassing my contractor.
Rhett finally looks at me. I want to look away, shame eating away at me, but I will never shirk from my responsibilities. If this is because of me, this man is owed an apology. I’ll face the consequences of my actions like a goddamn grown-ass woman.
He sighs, looking like he hasn’t slept well. Then he releases his arms, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Do you know the history of your father and my family?”
I blink, brain scrambling to keep up. “What?”
Rhett leans against the bar. “Papaw worked at the gas station, fixing cars. Apparently, he worked on your father’s car and he didn’t fix it.
And your father said he stole something out of the glove box.
It was a whole thing. The sheriff showed up to investigate.
Nothing ever came of it, but since then, your father made sure everyone knew what kind of people the Prices were.
” He rubs a hand over the scruff that’s grown on his chin.
“He even told the kids at school not to play with me.”
I gasp, horrified. And yet not exactly surprised. I’ve seen my father act this way, never with someone I know and mostly in business situations, but I can absolutely see Clayton Winthrop being that petty.
I picture a little-boy version of Rhett, alone on the playground, having no idea what’s going on.
Tears flood my eyes and I spin away, pressing my fingers to my mouth. “What the fuck?” I mutter through my hand.
Rhett makes a noise behind me. I spin back around to see a smile tugging on his lips.
“This isn’t funny! That’s terrible!” My hands are flying through the air. “And so typical of my father!”
Rhett shrugs. “It is all of those things. But it was kind of funny to hear you drop an f-bomb.” The right side of his mouth tugs into a playful grin.
I’m still so mad I could cry. And shit. I do. I duck my face and swipe the hot tear off my cheek, hoping Rhett didn’t see it. He steps right up to me and cups my face with both hands, pulling my face up so he can peer down at me.
“Hey,” he croons. “Don’t cry. I’ll find you a new contractor. One better than me.”
I grab his forearms, frowning severely. “I’m not crying. It’s just hormones, I’m on my period! And I don’t want another contractor. I want you!”
I watch as Rhett’s eyes darken to almost black, but he doesn’t let go, doesn’t lean in. His thumbs brush feather soft against my cheeks.
“If I work on this bar, your father will have a lot of things to say about it. You don’t need that kind of bad press before you’ve even opened.”
“I don’t care what my father says. You’re doing great work. You can’t quit!”
“You’re not thinkin’ straight, June bug.”
A part of my brain registers the nickname, but I’m too angry to focus on it right now. “No! I refuse. I won’t allow you to quit! Screw him and the stupid feud. That’s his business, not ours.”
Rhett drops his head, his hands still firm on my jaw. “I’m still worried.” He lifts his head, a tender expression on his face. “What if it comes back and reflects poorly on you? I can’t handle seeing the town turn against you because of me. I won’t allow it.”
I don’t know that I’ve ever had someone say something so sweet and genuine.
I let go of his wrists and suddenly wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. He smells like soap and sweat and wood, all man.
His hands hover, then slowly land on my back, smoothing up and down, instinctively knowing I need the hug.
And goodness, Rhett gives good ones, his warm body pressing against mine, relaxing my muscles.
We stay that way for several long minutes.
He doesn’t stop rubbing my back and I don’t stop breathing him in like a lifeline.
I feel him rest his head on top of mine, then twist, dropping a silent kiss into my hair.
I inhale one more time, putting that gentle kiss in my memory bank for later inspection.
And then I pull back, just enough to see his hot eyes on me.
“It’s been a shitty day, Rhett. I can’t add you quittin’ on top of it. You’re workin’ for me whether you like it or not. We have a contract, dammit.”
He nods. “Okay.” Then a smile spreads across his face. “I kind of like you cursing. Like watching a pretty angel spew profanities.”
“You think I’m pretty?” I ask coyly, arms still around his waist, forgetting all about my cramps and the busy day.
Except Rhett lets go of me and steps back. My arms drop to my sides, cold and empty. His hands are on my shoulders, not nearly enough contact for my liking.
“How about you take some ibuprofen and follow me back to my house? I’ve got something to take your mind off your bad day.” He shrugs. “At least, it always works for me.”
Now I’m intrigued and not at all ready to go home by myself. “Okay.”
He dips his head. “Okay.”
We close up the bar, neither of us talking, but the silence isn’t awkward. It’s just two people working side by side. He locks the door and tilts his head down the right side of the street.
“I’ll see you there?”
“Yep. Told you you can’t get rid of me that easily.”
His mouth hooks into a smile and it looks good on him.
I hustle to my car, parked the other direction, digging in my purse for some pain meds and heading out to Rhett’s house.
It’s golden hour by the time I get there, the sunlight flickering through the dense trees that line the road.
He’s beat me to it, his truck already parked in the driveway.
I park behind him and get out, not seeing him anywhere.
His voice rings out from the detached garage set further back on the property. “Over here.”
I dart around his truck and almost fall off my high heels when I finally get a look at him. He’s sitting on a shiny Harley, his muscled forearms gripping the chrome handlebars, his boots planted wide apart.
“It won’t bite,” he says teasingly, voice low and almost dangerous.
I nearly swallow my tongue. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle. My parents would have flipped out if I tried when I was younger. Debutantes don’t ride on the back of motorcycles. Honestly, even as an adult I never dated anyone who owned one, so the opportunity never presented itself.
“Where’ve you been hiding this bad boy?” I murmur, walking over.
When I’m close enough, I reach out a single finger to trail across the black body of the beast, then up to the handlebars.
This machine is impressive, clearly pricey, a gorgeous work of art.
Rhett turns a key and then hits a button.
The engine starts, so loud as it coughs out in the confines of the garage it reverberates through my chest. My heart rate kicks up, the thrill of riding a motorcycle making my skin flush with excitement.
Rhett keeps one hand on the handlebars and holds his palm out to me with the other. “Want to go for a ride with me?”
I slide my hand into his, comforted and yet overwhelmed by his presence in a way I can’t explain. My face splits into a wide grin.
“Yes.”