Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rhett
“Hey,” I mutter, shaking hands with Silas after I entered his boutique. The vibe in here is different than Mary London’s. I can’t quite put my finger on it since they’re both fancier than anything I’m used to, but it’s a little less hectic here at Harp and Hemline.
“Thanks for carving out some time this morning. I want to do a bit of a remodel in here this winter as the season winds down. Thinking January and February.” Silas doesn’t waste any time, walking me around and pointing out some changes he wants to make in here.
“This was my mother’s boutique, and while I want to keep the core of what she built, I think we can make it even more beautiful with some updates.”
I take copious notes as we walk his boutique, mentally tallying what it would take to bring his vision to life.
Mary London’s bar won’t be open until middle of January if all stays on target.
I’d have to juggle both projects if Silas wants it done in that timeframe, but if my current crew works out, that might be doable.
Silas ends the tour back at the cash register where Betsy Mae has just rung up a customer and now joins the conversation.
“Can we have just one black item of decor?”
Silas smiles down at her like she’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. But he shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Light and bright.”
Betsy gives me a deadpan look. “Pink and flowers.”
“Exactly!” Silas claps his hands like Betsy’s finally understanding everything.
I feel a smile growing on my face despite my gloom this week. I feel for Betsy Mae. I also don’t understand the obsession with boutiques in the South. Seems like it’s a good way to spend a lot of money you don’t necessarily have just to fit in.
“I can send over an estimate tomorrow if that works for you,” I say instead of airing my opinion on boutiques.
Silas and I shake hands again. “I appreciate it. Mary London tells me you’re doing amazing work.”
I dip my head. “Thanks.”
I walk out and head back to the bar, brain spinning with potentially getting another job here in Heaven.
Then that pesky voice in the back of my head pipes up that maybe it’s simply a pity job offer.
Perhaps Mary London said something to her brother about me needing more work.
Or, and this one’s just as likely, he wants a friends-and-family discount on account of Mary London and I being a bit of a thing.
Rich people always look to save a buck or two on the backs of the little people.
I slam the bar door behind me, disgusted with myself.
Those thoughts sound exactly like Papaw.
The bar is buzzing with noise and people.
The bathrooms are almost finished, the floors are in, the baseboards are also in but not painted yet, and the bar is almost ready for the custom bar top Mary London ordered.
Appliances arrived yesterday but we’re not quite ready for them.
If we work hard today, we might get them in just in the back kitchen.
I pull out my phone to text Mary London a picture of the almost completed bathrooms, but stop myself just in time. I shove the phone back in my pocket and clench my teeth. Been doing that a lot this week. Thinking of the woman and then forcing my mind elsewhere.
Ever since Papaw walked in on us the other night, I’ve backed off.
Needed some space to breathe and think. I never officially swore off women when I became a single dad, but I’ve been very careful who I bring home for Rylan to meet.
In fact, he’s never met any woman I’ve been seeing.
No one except for Mary London. And Rylan seems a bit smitten already, which has me concerned.
Add in the fact that now Papaw saw us together?
It’s unacceptable. Mary London and I agreed to keep things secret, and yet I’ve been putting her in positions where that secret has gotten out.
The very reason for keeping things secret is to protect my son and to protect Mary London’s reputation.
Kissing her in the bar, inviting her over for dinner, making out at the lake?
All of that jeopardizes her reputation, exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.
I need to do more thinkin’ with my head and less with my dick.
I’m back to being a grumpy bastard, something Rylan picks up on right away.
He’s been choosing to stay out with friends more and more, which is great for his teen social life, but also makes me feel guilty.
I know I’m in a bad mood, but I can’t seem to pull myself out of it.
Doesn’t help that every time my phone buzzes I jump up and gasp like a sorority girl on bid day, thinking it might be Mary London.
It never is, which both irritates me and is a relief all at the same time.
Except Thursday night, it is Mary London. Wondering what she’s done wrong to cause me to back off.
“Fuck,” I mutter, throwing my cowboy hat across the room and sinking down onto my bed. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Another reason why I shouldn’t be dating anyone. I have badly messed this up.
I assure her it’s nothing she did, but then she presses for more details. I’m not a man prone to many words. Even less if I have to thumb it out in a text. There’s a high degree of probability I’ll make things worse over text.
Me: I really don’t want to talk about this over text.
Mary London: Then come over and explain.
Me: Can I come over in an hour?
Mary London: See you then.
Rylan, thank God, comes home when he’s supposed to.
I wait for his shower to turn on, then his god-awful music to blast through the house.
When it mercifully shuts off and the light in his bedroom goes out, I leave the house.
I left a note on the kitchen island about where I’m going.
My hope is he goes to bed and never realizes I’m gone.
Mary London’s condo building wasn’t here when I left Heaven the first time around.
Hell, none of the development out this way was here.
It amazes me how different Heaven felt when I was a kid living here.
Everything seems bigger and fancier now as an adult.
Is it the growth of the town, or is it just the memory of a little kid that’s faulty?
I park in a visitor spot and head up to the second floor, knocking softly on her door.
She opens it a second later like she was standing there waiting for me.
Her hair is up on top of her head, little tendrils flirting with her jawline.
She’s wearing pajamas, the kind that have bows and satin and pink ruffles.
The kind that highjack a man’s brain even though there’s nothing inherently sexy about them.
It’s the level of femininity that does me in. Mary London is all girl.
“Hey,” she says softly, opening the door wide and stepping back on bare feet to let me in.
I step inside, wondering if I should kiss her cheek like I want to or keep my distance.
In the end, I don’t do a damn thing but stand there awkwardly while she closes the door and offers me something to drink.
“I’m good,” I mumble, removing my cowboy hat and gripping it like a shield.
Mary London takes one long look at me and cracks up.
“You’re lookin’ at me like a cow at a new gate, honey.
” She grabs my hand and pulls me to the couch, tucking a leg under her as she sits, patting the other cushion.
I sit, placing my hat on the glass-and-gold coffee table.
“I don’t care if we take the kissing off the table in this relationship, but I don’t ever want us to be awkward with each other.
I’m too old to play games and I like you too much to hate ya. ”
I sigh heavily, relief flooding through me. “I don’t want to play games either.” I shoot her a wry grin. “But I’m older than you, so you can’t call yourself old.”
She grins and it hits me how much I’ve missed her face. “Got a birthday comin’ up. And God bless my mama, but when she was alive she used to remind me I wasn’t getting any younger. I think she was just pushing for grandbabies.”
A weird rush of yearning clanks around my chest, thinking of Mary London with her arms full of babies. I can see them now, those blue eyes and big smiles they get from their mama. She’d be the best mom.
Not that I have any desire to be the father. Not at forty-one, right? That door has been closed. At least in my mind.
“Listen,” I begin, leaning toward her but making sure I’m not touching her. “I did back off a bit this week, mostly because I knew we were taking chances we shouldn’t. We agreed to keep the kissing a secret and then we didn’t.”
Mary London narrows her eyes. “Tell me something, Rhett. Why did you want it to be a secret?”
“Because you can’t be seen with a Price like that.”
“Bullshit,” she counters immediately, surprising me. She isn’t one to cuss usually.
I grunt my confusion.
She grabs my hand and squeezes tight. “I don’t need you worrying about my reputation, Rhett.
I had enough of that with my parents. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself around town.
If you want to keep things secret because you’re doing my build-out, I can understand that.
But don’t try to protect me from public opinion.
They’re going to be talking about me anyway because I’m opening a bar. ”
“You don’t need—”
She puts her hand up between us, a look of intensity on her face that means business.
“Don’t you tell me what I need, Rhett Price.
Let people talk. I refuse to live my life according to everyone else’s expectations.
At one time I did, and if I’ve learned nothing else from my mother’s death, it’s that life is short.
I should be squeaking out any happiness wherever I can find it.
” She drops her arm to grab my other hand, her voice softening. “And you make me happy, Rhett.”
Every bit of self-control I relied on this week to stay away from her, leaves my body in a mad dash. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. I can’t stay away from this woman, no matter how hard I try. Because she makes me happy too. So happy.
“You make me happy too, June bug. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
Her eyes shine with happiness and unshed tears. “Then let’s not let the world tell us what we can and can’t do.”
“On one condition.” I don’t care what she says, I’ll protect her any way I can.
“Shoot.”
“We keep things a secret between us while I’m finishing up your build-out. I don’t want anyone thinking you sleep around with business contacts. You’ve worked too hard to be successful for anyone to think that about you.”
“Okay, but now I have one condition too,” she says, eyebrow arching.
God, she’s beautiful and so dang tough. “Shoot.”
“When you’re done with the build-out, if everything’s still good between us, then we go public. I don’t want to stay a secret forever.”
“Agreed.”
She smiles and my whole world lights up. Like flipping a television from black and white to full color.
“Now are we done with all this business so we can get back to the kissing?”
I’d give her just about anything right now and it’s certainly not a hardship to get back to that. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mary London crawls into my lap, her long, tanned legs straddling me. My fingers dig into her hair and our mouths meet in a frenzy. All that space this week let desire build up. It’s like a powder keg between us, just waiting for one of us to light a match.
She shifts on my lap, rubbing herself against the instant erection. Her little mewl has my eyes rolling back in my head.
“Take me to bed, ’Lanta,” she whispers against my mouth.
Thing is, I didn’t bring any condoms and I left Rylan home alone. If I’m going to make love to Mary London, it’s gotta be better thought out than this. She deserves the romance. Flowers and music and food. She deserves more than a quick roll in the hay.
I push her away from me just enough for her to catch her breath. “There’s nothing I want more, June bug. But I want to do it right.”
She pouts, grinding her hips down on my lap and making me swallow back a moan at the friction. “Feels like we’re doin’ it right, hon.”
I try to think fast, which is almost an impossible task with all the blood flow elsewhere. “Maggie working tomorrow?”
Mary London frowns, looking so cute with her hair all a mess from my hands. Almost cute enough for me to forgo these plans of mine. “Yes.”
“Let’s play hooky tomorrow afternoon, then. Rylan has a job right after school, so we’ll have hours together.”
Her eyes light up. “Okay. My place or yours?”
“Neither. I’ll make plans for us.”
Mary London leans back in, kissing along my jawline as she whispers, “Do these plans have us both naked tomorrow?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying for some semblance of control. “I’ll be naked except for my cowboy hat.”
She pulls back, eyes sparkling. “Looks like I’m gonna ride a cowboy tomorrow.”