Chapter 17
Day Five
Left early for my run. Be back by 7.
-Dev
Note on the whiteboard, August 25th
Devon
“Doing alright over here, mama?” Rhett leans against the framed wall casually enough to make me wonder how long he’s been standing there.
“Didn’t hear you walking over.” I smile up at him. “Been so focused.” I tap my pencil on my sketchbook where I’ve spent the morning working on the design for his kitchen by hand. I could have stayed behind at the trailer to use his computer and the Wi-Fi, but something about doing it old school with pencil and paper is soothing.
“You’ve been back here three hours already,” my charming, southern companion says. My eyes track his movements as he removes his blue Rangers cap, running calloused fingers through sweat-damp hair before tugging it back on with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Hadn’t noticed,” I say.
His accent is thick, voice low when he responds, “Oh, I think you noticed.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “Get back to work, McCoy.”
“Alright,” he laughs. “But you have to eat something eventually. We have iced tea, strawberries, and sandwiches in the fridge in the garage.”
“Sounds good,” I say, getting back to work as he walks away down the hall. It would be easy to spend another three hours in this exact spot. The view from my current office and Rhett’s future bedroom is enviable. It sits on a corner, so one window faces the hill that separates his house from the trailer, scattered with Joshua Trees, sage brush, and smooth, wide rocks. Out the other window, there is nothing but desert for miles and miles. It’ll have an unobstructed view of the sunrise every day. But right now, if I angle my chair just right, I can get a direct eyeline into the kitchen, where Rhett’s corded muscular arms flex as he puts up dry wall.
Definitely working at the house because of the soothing nature of working with pencil and paper. No other reason. And I’m going to the kitchen for iced tea I’m not thirsty for because it’s polite to take what’s offered. Also, no other reason.
Rhett
Not ten minutes after I turn out the lights for the evening, Devon’s rolled over, wrapping her long leg around me, burrowing her face against my chest. It’s been almost a week of her nightly teasing. She’s not even pretending to sleep anymore, and I’m ready to collect on our bet.
“Devon,” I speak into the darkness where her face is nuzzled against my neck. She doesn’t budge. “I know you’re awake.” Still nothing.
I’ve been diligent about keeping my hands polite while she’s sleeping, but the time for being polite has passed. I bring my fingers in a slow path up and down the length of her spine, dipping lower on each pass as I continue to try to draw her out. “Two extra days together. What should we do with those, mama?” Her reactions when I use the pet-name range from excitement she thinks she’s concealed to irritation or indifference, but it’s not enough to make her crack. “Hmm, so you want to let daddy decide?” I swear I feel her heartbeat pick up where it’s pressed against my chest, but I can’t be sure.
I run my fingers down her arm, before tugging lightly on her sleeve. “You know this is my favorite shirt?” Her breathing stays deliberately steady, but I know she’s listening. “I wore it when I was bussing tables in high school. If fifteen-year-old Rhett could see it now, sliding off the shoulder of a leggy blonde goddess…” I let out a low whistle to finish the thought.
Now that I’ve given myself permission to touch her, I can’t stop. With one hand, I’m tracing a line around her arm, tight waist, and up and down her back. With the other, I test my luck, running it along the bare thigh she’s draped low across my shirtless torso. Either these are the tiniest shorts in existence, or she’s only wearing panties. I’m dying to find out.
Her breathing is even, but she presses more tightly into me, imperceptibly enough that she could deny it happened. But I’m locked onto her movements, and she is nuzzling closer to me. Fuck, this is nice. “I like it, you know. Holding you.”
She doesn’t say anything, not that I thought she would. Tender and emotional is not the way to get her attention, so I try something else. “And obviously, you like it too. You’ve been holding onto me every single night since you got here. Today was Sunday, right?” The question was rhetorical, but I still pause in case she decides to speak up. She doesn’t. “That makes this the sixth night in a row you couldn’t keep your hands off me. More than your hands actually. Your entire body is all over me.” I thrust my hips up for emphasis, bringing her even tighter against me and drawing her leg higher up my stomach. The heat of her center presses against my hip through a slip of silky fabric. Those have to be shorts, right?
She doesn’t speak, but a gasp escapes her lips.
“I heard that.” She stays quiet. “You are adorably stubborn. We both know you’re awake, and we both know you’re staying here for a total of sixteen days. Of course, I hope you keep this up.”
She arches into me when my fingers pass the small of her back. She’s enjoying this.
“For someone who’s so adamant about not dating in our industry, you sure are comfortable snuggling with your carpenter.”
This time her gasp is louder, but she still doesn’t talk. That’s enough. I give her ass a solid pinch, then palm her cheek. Tiniest shorts in existence it is.
“Rhett McCoy,” She pops up to seated, bracing herself with a hand centered on my abs. “How dare you!”
My hand is still on her ass, and it takes all of my control not to grab onto her waist with the other and pull her across to straddle me. “All I wanted was for you to admit you were already awake, Dev.”
“Your pinch woke me up,” she huffs.
“Bullshit.” I make a broad wave with my hand, so she can catch it in the barely moonlit room. “Now come lie back down, and we’ll get some sleep.”
“Never.” She slides her leg off and moves all the way to the edge of the bed. But ten minutes later, when I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her back into my chest as the little spoon, she doesn’t protest.