Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rhett
Table saws, nail guns, and background music have become a part of my day. It makes me satisfied, like I’m getting back to a part of myself that’s been missing since I moved Rylan and I back to Heaven. They fade though as I dash into the bathrooms at the bar to text Mary London.
Me: Thinking of looking for a used car for Rylan this weekend. Any interest in coming with me Saturday after work?
Mary London: Shopping? I’m absolutely in!
God, she makes me smile. I haven’t felt this lighthearted and excited about life since the day I saw my son’s face after he was born. I’m in deep with this woman. Even if I keep pushing her to keep things a secret.
Me: Perfect. Might have the house to ourselves Saturday evening too.
Mary London: Are you trying to plan a sex date with me, Rhett Price?
I huff out loud, the sound echoing off all the new tile.
Me: I’m trying to plan some alone time with you, Mary London Winthrop. It doesn’t need to lead to all that.
Mary London: Well, that’s disappointing.
Goddamn. I shove my phone back in my pocket and head back into the bar to get busy on something that’ll take my mind off of her.
I’m trying to do the right thing here. I’m trying to show her respect.
Show her that I don’t want to be with her just for sex.
I enjoy her as a person. But dropping the D-word on me? Ouch.
“What do we have here?” a voice booms out above the normal din of a construction site.
I turn to see Deuce standing inside the doorway, his arms spread wide in a three-piece suit that has no business in here with all the dust and debris.
He gives me a broad grin that doesn’t meet his eyes.
His hair looks like he spent a half hour on it, getting it just right.
I’m sure I look like I spent barely a minute getting ready this morning.
“Deuce,” I grumble, heading over and offering to shake his hand.
He does, his grip surprisingly strong. There’s something about him that sets my teeth on edge.
Sure, it might be the way he flirts with Mary London so shamelessly, but there’s something else too.
I’ve noticed his accent comes and goes. He smiles and jokes a lot, but his eyes tell a different story, a story he’s not telling anyone.
“I’ve come to see Mary London, but it doesn’t look like she’s here.”
I shake my head. “No. Haven’t seen her today. I imagine she’s still at the boutique.”
Deuce gives me a knowing little smile that sends warning signals throughout my brain. “Just came from there, actually. She’s MIA. Figured she’d be with you.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You two been spending some time together.”
I dip my head in agreement, but don’t give him anything to work with. “Lots of work on this bar.”
Deuce eyes me like we’re in a cage together, about to engage in some sort of combat.
Like his strategy is shifting as he sizes me up.
Thing is, he looks like he’d protect his fancy suit at all costs, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes me think that’s just the image he tries to project.
There’s a lot more below the surface with this guy.
“I think it’s more than that,” he says quietly. “What are your intentions with her?”
I grimace. “What are you talking about? We aren’t like that.”
Deuce’s smile fades, only to be replaced with a fierce frown. That chiseled jawline now looks less like a fashion model and more like a weapon of destruction.
“So you’re using her?” he snaps. I open my mouth to deny, deny, deny, but he steps forward into my space, his crossed arms bumping my chest in a clear warning. “She clearly has feelings for you and I suspect you do for her too. I won’t stand for you using Mary London, asshole.”
I scoff, having no intention of backing down. I haven’t gotten into a fight in years, but I’m not opposed to it. “Are you jealous or something? What’s your deal?”
Deuce drops his arms, hands clenched into fists as we glare at each other. “No, I’m not jealous. Maylo is like a sister to me. I care about her and I won’t have you using her. She deserves the best.”
Understanding dawns. “Ah. And I’m definitely not the best, am I right?”
Now it’s Deuce’s turn to grimace. “What? No. I don’t know anything about you, bro. But I do know Maylo and she lights up when you’re around. So if you’re just playing with her, I’m gonna ask you to stop that shit. Right now.”
We stand there for several long moments, both breathing a little heavier, staring at each other. Then I look behind him to make sure no one is nearby. Thankfully, most of my crew is in the kitchen, getting that area finished first.
I’m not normally a sharer of feelings. Never have been.
I’d rather keep them tucked up tight in my chest, letting out a grunt here and there like burpin’ a bottle of ferment.
Let people speculate. Not my responsibility to share what’s going on in my head.
There are exceptions of course, like Rylan.
I’ll expose my thoughts and feelings to him because he deserves to know me better than anyone else does.
So telling Deuce what I’m about to tell him is against everything I’ve ever done.
It’s a leap of faith that he’s not the egotistical asshole he shows to the world.
I’m trusting that what he says about Mary London is true.
I lean in a little closer and drop my voice. “Listen. I’m not using her. We have an understanding. We’re keeping things quiet to protect her reputation.”
Deuce’s razor-sharp face breaks into a grin. “I knew it! Silas owes me twenty bucks.”
My hand goes to the back of my neck, already regretting telling him anything. “Silas knows about this?”
Deuce waves his hands around as he talks, clearly excited about being right. “Silas was hoping you two were dating. Says he’s never seen Maylo so happy. I mean, we’ve been here to see her with all her exes, so believe me when I say you don’t have to do much to be better than those idiots.”
Hmm. Mary London and I haven’t really talked about exes in detail yet. “What do you mean?”
Deuce leans in close, looking so much like a gossiping Birdie I almost laugh out loud.
“You didn’t hear it from me, but those polo-shirted pansies were more interested in being with her because of her name or her status in our community than actually caring about her as a person.
None of them couldn’t live without her, you know what I mean?
Mary London wants a man to burn down the world for her.
Desperate, deep, forever kind of love. Surface level will never be enough.
” He leans back and dusts off the lapels of his suit jacket, though not one speck of sawdust has dared to land on it.
“So unless you see yourself starting another civil war here in the South for her honor, you might want to cut your losses now.”
My gut feels like a stack of bricks just landed in it. Except my blood is pumping through my veins like I have myself an emergency on my hands. I’m self-aware enough to know I have strong feelings for Mary London already. But what Deuce said is echoing in my head.
Would I start a war for her?
That’s basically what will happen if we go public with our relationship.
Half the goddamn town will be against us being together.
We simply go against the social order of things.
I envision a gang of citizens with pitchforks coming to my door, led by Mary London’s own father.
We go public and this whole thing blows up in our faces.
We’ve just gotten together. We’re not strong enough to endure something like that.
She’d back off and wonder why she lost her head over a Price.
She’d come to see that she was just passing time being with me. I’m not worth starting a war.
Deuce just has it backwards. I would most definitely start a war for her, but I won’t because I know I’m not worth her losing half her friends and family.
Deuce thumps me on the chest, still grinning like an asshole. “I see I’ve given you something to think about.” He takes one step toward the door, then turns back. “Let me know if Silas and I need to bring firearms to start that war.”
And then he’s gone, whistling down the street, nodding hello to everyone he passes. I watch him until he’s out of sight, wondering why he’s such a smug bastard. I still don’t like him.
But part of me softens anyway, wondering if his last comment means I’ve somehow made a couple of friends here in Heaven.
I text Mary London again before going back to work to make sure she’s okay.
She left the boutique early because she has a night out with her friends tonight at the Velvet Throne—a new place I haven’t bothered to eat at yet because it looks pricey as hell—and needed to get ready.
I wish her a fun night out and throw myself into getting this bar ready for the grand opening.
Time is flying and I refuse to fall behind schedule.
It’s late by the time Rylan and I eat dinner. He heads to bed not long after and I spend more time than normal under the showerhead, letting the hot water ease all my aching muscles. Every word of my conversation with Deuce has been circling in my head.
It’s also been bothering me that Mary London has seemed a bit quiet since our day out at the cabin. The sex was good. Great even. At least I thought it was. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t faking the orgasms. I would know.
Right?
Oh fuck. She’s not disappointed in that, is she? I yank the handle to shut off the water and wrap a towel around my waist, disgusted with myself. I’m in my head and unsure of everything at this point. Am I really so insecure that I think I can’t even please Mary London sexually?
An idea hits me as I dry off. I really need to talk to her. Instead of going round and round in my head about things, I just need to talk it out with her. I look at my phone and see it’s late. She’s probably already home by now since she has work tomorrow.
Me: Did you get home okay?
Mary London: Not sure! Still at Velvet…
I let my phone go dark and stare at myself in the mirror.
Am I really going to interrupt her girls’ night out?
I think of Deuce and his comments about her exes and decide this can’t wait.
I throw on a pair of jeans, a clean T-shirt, and a black leather jacket I wear when I ride my motorcycle.
I take the Harley—mostly in hopes it clears my head—straight into town and find ample parking in the Square.
Most establishments have already closed for the night, but the Velvet Throne is lit up and full of fancy people.
Mary London’s white SUV is parked a block away.
I head in that direction, wanting to talk to her, but not her friends.
Not tonight, anyway. I’m not in the mood to be polite.
I throw down the kickstand in a new parking space right next to her vehicle and pull off my helmet.
If I’m not what Mary London wants, we need to cut off things now before I fall even more in love with her.
I lurk in the dark doorway of a barber shop, leaning against the door and fidgeting, wondering when they’ll be done with whatever girls do when they go out.
As I wait, I look up and see a red light.
Fuck. I’m probably on someone’s security camera right now, looking suspicious as hell.
I move to the alley next to the barber shop with a clear view of Mary London’s car still.
There’s a cool breeze in the air—a clear sign fall has finally arrived in the South—that makes me grateful I wore a jacket.
It’s a good half hour later that I hear a gaggle of women down the street.
I stand up straighter, ears perked until I get the distinct sound of Mary London’s laughter in the mix.
I wait until they say their goodbyes and then hear the soft click of her heels against the pavement coming my way.
As soon as I see she’s alone at her car, I step out of the alley.
“Hey, June bug,” I say calmly.
She yelps and clutches her purse to her chest, looking as gorgeous as usual. Her shoulders sag when she sees it’s only me. “Heaven have mercy, Rhett. You scared the bejeezus out of me. What’re you doing here?”
She walks over in a short little dress that flirts with tanned thighs, her gait a little more loose than normal. She stumbles into me, a giggle on her lips as I put my hands on her hips to steady her. “Oops. I swear I switched to water over an hour ago.”
“Good thing I came by, then.” I move us backwards so we’re in the shadow of the alley.
She tips her head back, blue eyes sparkling even in the darkness. “Yeah, why are you here?”
Her perfume hits my nose, her warm curves pressed against me. She hasn’t bothered to straighten, like she knows I’ll hold her steady for as long as she needs me to. I rub my thumbs over the curve of her hips, wishing I was touching bare skin.
“I need to talk to you.” I grit my teeth and just go for it. I’d rather hear the truth now than later. “You’ve been a bit quiet since the cabin. I want to know if you’ve changed you mind about things with me.”
She frowns, pursing her pretty pink lips. “I—no.”
I lean down, holding her gaze and not letting her dance away from this topic. “I’mma need more than that, June bug.”
She huffs but then lifts her chin in a show of defiance I love about her. “While our time at the cabin was lovely, I want to see you out of your mind with need for me. You’re still treating me like some kind of breakable princess, and I don’t want that.”
I chuckle but it’s not a happy one. “You basically are, Mary London. Have you seen yourself? You’re fuckin’ royalty in this town while I’m the backwoods single dad with a terrible family history, no money, and a manual labor job who really shouldn’t be touching a beautiful thing like you.
I’ll make you dirty just by association. ”
Mary London straightens her legs and pushes away from me, though her hands stay on my chest, tucked under the sides of the leather jacket.
“I can’t make you change your mind about yourself.
You need to start seeing who you really are, not who your papaw is.
” She removes her hands and steps back, entirely sober.
“You’re just as bad as the rest of Heaven, thinking outdated reputations are the only thing that matters. ”
Her words hit me like a blow to the face.
Fuck. She’s right.
“Mary London,” I croak out, reaching for her. She lets me pull her back in because that’s who she truly is. Sweet with a side of spicy. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” I cup her face and wait for her to meet my gaze again. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll do better, I promise you.”
Her eyes are sparkling from tears now, the sight of which makes me want to fall to my knees right here in the alley and beg her for forgiveness.
“Then show me,” she whispers back.