Chapter 15
Day Three
Coffee”s hot -Devon
-Note on the whiteboard by the front door, August 23rd
Rhett
She thinks she woke up first again today, but she’s wrong again because she’s continuing to wreck me every night with her smooth body wrapped around mine. I’m sleeping like shit, too terrified to move and lose her touch. I pretend I’m asleep for a second time as she carefully rolls herself off of my chest and I listen as she takes off my shirt, which she’s slept in every night, and gets dressed in what I imagine are tight fitting workout clothes.
As soon as the door closes, I’m up, making the bed, taking a shower and starting on breakfast. How long will she run for? I find myself nervous, which is how I imagine she makes most people feel but is extremely rare for me.
Chorizo sizzles in the hot pan. Does she even like breakfast tacos?
She appears on the horizon and goes straight to the shower without stopping inside. I’m impatient to see her and I slice up oranges, apples, and strawberries—way more food than we need—to pass the time. Having her here has been pure temptation. I see the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I feel how perfectly her body fits against mine every night when she sleeps. She’ll barely talk to me, but I’m hoping I know exactly what it’ll take to draw her out.
When she walks in through the door wearing nothing but a towel, I drop a spatula full of eggs directly onto the counter. She looks just like she did that first night, wet hair framing her sharp features, water dripping down her neck and spilling over the curvature of her defined collarbones. This time the rivulets disappear into the white terrycloth fabric wrapped around her chest, but the image of her perfect breasts with their pointed pink nipples comes to mind immediately.
Instead of scolding me for looking, she smirks. “You’re tall. You should have longer towels than this.”
She’s right.Both of my older sisters are about her height, and they always complain about how short standard towels are. I should have known better, but at this moment, with it barely covering her ass, I have no regrets.
Devon may be a rule follower, but she’s no prude. Her hands hang freely at her sides, making no effort to tug on the edges or cover herself further. Pulling my eyes away from her is an effort, but I manage to get back to assembling our breakfast.
“Taking the day off?” she asks.
“No, ma’am.” I give her my best smile. “Just wanted to share breakfast with you before we got started.”
“We?” she asks, anger I don’t understand tightening her face. “I don’t think Trina would appreciate you bringing me to Shephard with you.”
Shephard? Trina?“What are you talking about?”
She scoffs, “I know how Trina works. I’m sure she has you on a tight timeline over at Shephard, and she’s expecting you out there to get work done today.”
Is that what she thinks I’ve been working on?“You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“Am I?” she challenges.
“You are,” I answer. “You’re assuming I’ve been working on Trina’s project this week, that she determines my schedule, that I would make a commitment and not follow through. But worst of all, you’re assuming I’d rather be on a jobsite working for Trina Boatswain when I could be here having breakfast with you.” When she doesn’t respond, I turn away from plating to look at her again. Her brows are pulled together, lips pursed, confused. “You have to know I enjoy your company.”
She’s quick to respond, “I enjoy Sadie’s company.” An unwelcome twinge of disappointment hits me at the distinction. “But I don’t blow off work to have breakfast with her.”
“Maybe you should.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your ‘do the wrong thing’ narrative is getting old.”
Breakfast is ready. I should offer her a plate while it’s hot, but this is the longest conversation we’ve had since she got here. Keeping her standing here is one thing, but the distance across the trailer to the L-shaped sofa with the table folded down from the wall, feels like much farther than she’d be willing to travel with me right now. This thirty-foot airstream has never felt so large. “Interesting that you take my suggestion to make your friendship with Sadie a priority over work occasionally as the obvious wrong thing.”
“That’s not what you said, and it’s not what I said.” She steps closer to me. “Your summarizing skills need work.”
Picking up both plates, I ask, “Why don’t you get dressed, and we can talk about it over breakfast?”
She eyes the plates, then stares at me for a long moment, considering. “Fine. That smells good.”
The amount of pride that builds in my chest at her minor praise is damn near shameful. I set our breakfast up on the folded-out table and do my best to stare at my tacos, even though in my periphery, I can see her changing. After a couple minutes, she joins me at the table wearing the most casual outfit I’ve ever seen her in. A loose-fitting, white, Turbine Café t-shirt stops just before the waist of cotton, dark gray sweatpants material shorts. Sweatshorts? She passes me the coffee mug I forgot in the kitchen.
My nerves keep me from bringing up the house. “What are your plans today?”
“My plans?” She gives me her full irritated attention. “You took away all my plans. I’m stuck here in this trailer all day. I’m probably going to stretch and then sit outside and draw a cactus.”
“That does sound restful, which I’m told you’re supposed to be doing.” When she doesn’t respond I add, “Resting. Allie said you need to rest.”
She glares at her plate, taking an aggressive stab of potatoes. “I’ve rested more in the past two days than I have in the last two months. I need something to do.”
Get it together, McCoy. “Well, in that case, maybe you’d like to see the house today?”
Her eyes shoot up to meet mine, giving me the full weight of her fiercest glare. “What house?”
Devon
“My house,” he answers, furrowing his brow like it’s ridiculous I haven’t figured it out on my own.
My fingers run through my hair, still wet from the shower. “Are we not in your house right now?”
He laughs, hitting me with his damn smile. “We’re in my current home, but I also have a house that needs some work.”
What the actual fuck?“You have a house ‘that needs some work,’ and I’ve been sitting around drawing desert flowers for two days?”
His gray eyes light up. “I didn’t know you drew. I’d like to see those.”
“Do not change the subject, Rhett McCoy.” I try to level him with a glare, but I’m finding they have less and less impact on him with each day that passes. My usual defenses-glares, harsh words, general unlikability don’t work on him, and I cannot figure out how to feel about it.
He takes an exaggerated bite of his taco, which incidentally, is one of the best breakfasts I’ve ever had, making me wait for his response. “There is a house. We can go after breakfast.”
A house. He didn’t make this up to trick me into staying in the desert with him. Those cursed butterflies return. He has an actual project for me to work on. He let me rest for a couple days first, which was misguided. He needs to learn he doesn’t make decisions for me. But a house to work on? He didn’t lie to me? Those are major points in his favor.
I am in so much trouble.He’s attracted to me, which is obvious, and he seemed genuinely hurt at the idea that I didn’t realize he enjoys my company. Pushing people away, rejecting them before they have a chance to reject me, protects me from getting hurt. It’s been years since I let someone in enough that they had an opportunity to hurt me. Last time I did, I ended up so devastated I almost missed my own college graduation. But whether I like it or not, I’m involved with Rhett now.
We take his truck on the dirt road Bea drove me in on, but there is a split in it that I didn’t notice before. Instead of turning west toward the highway, he turns east, driving along the opposite side of the low hills the trailer backs up to. After a couple minutes, a roofline comes into view. The house is on the opposite side of the hills from the trailer, but they’re tall enough to block the sound of construction and my view when I run north every morning. If I’d been running this way, or even tried to run around the base of the hill, I would have found it on my own.
He brings the truck to a stop where I imagine a driveway will be eventually, parking it under an overhang from the roof. The lot is gorgeous, and the house is situated beautifully with 360-degree unobstructed views of the desert.
As it stands, the house is barely more than a roof and studs. “Just a little work, huh?”
He laughs, coming around to open my door. This time I accept his hand when he offers it to help me down. It’s warm and firm around my fingers, and I’m struck with a flash of how good it felt that night in June when he held my hand the whole way through the golf course. He doesn’t linger this time, though, dropping it immediately. I ignore my disappointment.
Some people would only see concrete, 2x6s and a roof, but I can see the bones of the stunning modern ranch-style home it will become. Thankfully, he has set up the finished garage as a workspace. He explains the small rooms next to it will be a laundry and bath followed by an open floor plan kitchen, living, and dining area, which is separated from the bedrooms by the foyer and an interior courtyard that will lead to a pool.
He lets me take my time to assess each space as he leads me through the layout. On the opposite side of the foyer, there is a study, two more baths, three bedrooms and then all the way at the back is the primary suite.
“You’ve got room for your whole family, don’t you?”
“Hopefully I’ll have a wife and kids to fill it up someday, yeah.” His casual response catches me off guard. “Once this is built, I want to stay put.”
Surprise. Butterflies. Jealousy.It’s too much to process, so I say nothing and continue down the hall toward what will be his room. And his wife’s. There’s jealousy again.
There is blocking for a massive picture window and enough space to put a separate seating area underneath, but then the bed would need to go—I turn around, assessing the room. The bed could go against the same wall as the door, but then it may block the walking path to the closet. I haven’t even seen the closet.
Bed placement and Rhett’s imaginary wife temporarily forgotten, I cross the space to the closet. It’s huge—a dream. And with Rhett’s carpentry skills, there would be a custom organization system for shoes, accessories, and more than enough hanging room for anything else.
“And a floor length mirror here,” I begin thinking out loud, pointing to the wall opposite the closet door. “And a smaller one on this wall.” I turn to the side, smiling ear to ear.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Rhett responds, leaning against the closet door’s frame, where I hadn’t realized he was close enough to hear every word I’ve said to myself. “Two mirrors in here. Makes sense, though.”
The look in his eyes is sincere interest. I expected pride, arrogance, perhaps even amusement. But he watches me intently, like he’s searching for something. Approval? I’m far too wrapped up in imagining how this house will turn out to mask my emotions, so I’m unsure what he sees in my reaction.
“Is this where you’ve been all week?” I ask.
He nods. “It is.”
His broad shoulders and long, lean legs fill the doorway, leaving me a little overwhelmed at his presence. Even though the walls are nothing but open wood framing that I could step right through, I feel surrounded by him. And it’s nice.
I take a step closer, but he doesn’t budge. “It’s nice to know you didn’t lie.” Also nice to know he hasn’t been at Shephard with Trina.
His entire demeanor shifts, confusion pulling his lips into a frown. “Lie about what?”
“Your place, your project, whatever you’ve been calling it. You never said you had a house, and there is no work for me at the trailer,” I explain.
“Nothing for you to do? My neighbor from the next property up says he sees you running across his land every morning.”
So, the neighbors can definitely see me trespassing. Lovely. “Nothing for me to do professionally. I thought you were just using the auction to trick me into spending time with you.”
He brings one arm up to rest on the doorframe over his head. “Do you feel tricked? You really didn’t know?”
“Obviously not, no. All I knew was my friends were using you as the catalyst to force me to take a break.” Stepping back, I look around the shell of a closet again. “This house is a welcome surprise.”
“Nobody can force Devon Blake to do anything.” He smiles, already delighted with the words he’s about to speak. “You’re here because you want to be, and you didn’t even know there was a house. You wanted to spend two weeks alone with me.”
He’s not getting a response out of me on that count. I take a deep breath, shuttering my joy at the prospect of working here. “So, what is it that you’d like me to do with your house, McCoy?”
“Okay,” he laughs. “I won’t make you admit it yet.” His arm brushes my shoulder as he walks into the closet. “Everything. I need your help with all of it.”
“That’s not a clear direction.” But my excitement starts to build at the prospect.
He laughs again, the sound echoing across the poured concrete subfloor. “I have plans for getting the walls up, windows in, insulation, all that done. But I don’t have any interior selections. I need flooring, wall colors, tile, plumbing selections. Truly, all of it.”
“That’s far too much for me to do in two weeks.” Although, I already have ideas forming. I picked this career for a reason. Most of the time, although less often lately, I love it. I’m not built for idleness, so I picked work I would be fulfilled by. It’s forefront in my mind that I should be doing every single thing I can to save my business, but it is possible that resting and allowing my creativity to resurface, could be helping me.
A project like this, a literal blank slate, might be exactly what I need. Just like my friends said.
“I know, mama. Just see how far you get. Take the breaks you need, and we can talk about it after you head back home. See if you’ll let me hire you for real.”
“What about if you want to hire me for real?” I ask, a faint smile ticking up my lips.
“Oh, I want to,” he says.
Rhett
She smiled.She was in my closet. Well, my future closet, but she smiled. A real, unbridled smile. I’ll have to wait until she’s on her run tomorrow to add that to my list.