Ten
T he next evening, with Fletch opting to shoot pool in a bar somewhere, Rheo took the opportunity to catch up with Abi. When her friend bought the deli building with a small business loan, she had converted the second floor into an apartment and added a thin balcony just wide enough for a small table and two chairs, overlooking Main Street. It was a great spot to watch the tourists and the Gilmartin residents walking into and out of the bars and restaurants.
Abi released a contented sigh, and Rheo rolled her head to look at her. “I’m sorry for storming out on you the other day,” she said.
Abi lifted her wineglass to her nose, then took a healthy sip. “You apologized by text that night and the next morning. And again when you called. But I’m not convinced you’re truly sorry.”
Rheo picked up a chip and threw it at her. Abi and Fletch shared the same dry sense of humor.
“It’s all good, Rhee. Did you work it out with Fletch?”
“Yeah.”
“And you now know there was just a glitch with his card?”
“I do.” She wouldn’t tell Abi she’d been given a peek at his bank account. “If I hadn’t been so triggered, I would’ve remembered his top-of-the-line running shoes, all his tech toys, and the fancy watch. I’ve seen it. It can do everything but launch him to the moon.”
Rheo put her bare feet onto the railing and used her wineglass to gesture to the busy street. “Have you never thought about opening during the evenings? You’d do well.”
Abi took a fat black olive from the bowl on the wrought iron table between them. “ Ugh , no. I’m too much of a control freak and I’d never take any time off. I’d be there 24/7. Nope, I’m happy doing what I’m doing.”
Lucky girl. Rheo dipped a chip into homemade guacamole. Abi was so comfortable in her skin, so confident about her place in the world. Rheo thought she’d been the same when she was in New York, but in hindsight, she hadn’t been, not really. Oh, she’d enjoyed her life and job, but she’d been constantly on edge, always looking around to see where she was, what could go wrong, looking for obstacles instead of seeking joy. She’d spent more time checking her plan and scanning the horizon for trouble than enjoying life.
“It’s so nice to see you,” Abi told her. “I’ve missed you lately.”
Oh God, was she one of those awful women who vanished when a new man came on the scene? She slapped her hands on her cheeks, horrified. “Oh, have I neglected you? God, I’m so sorry! And especially since you’ve been so good to me—”
Abi rolled her eyes. “Jeez, calm down. Trust me, if I had a hottie like Fletch in my bed, I wouldn’t pay attention to my girlfriends either. I’m not pissed, Rheo. It’s genuinely okay.”
Uncertainty rippled through her. Could she believe that? Was Abi just being nice?
“I hated it when Carrie did that to me when we stayed here over the summer. We’d be getting along okay, then a boy would come along, and I wouldn’t see her for the rest of the time. It happened once or twice in college too. I made a friend, she’d fall in love, and she’d disappear.” And it hurt, dammit. Making friends became more hassle than it was worth, and she stopped, choosing to focus on her studies instead.
“I’m not a teenager, Rhee, and we’re the type of friends who don’t need to live in each other’s pockets,” Abi told her, sounding firm. She lifted her glass to her lips, her brown eyes full of mischief. “So, are you falling in love with Fletch, Rheo Whitlock?”
“Pfft. As if I would be that stupid!”
“What’s stupid about falling in love?” Abi asked. “Love and finding your person is the lifelong goal of some people.”
“I won’t fall in love with Fletcher,” Rheo clarified.
“He’s smart, hot, financially fluid.” Abi ticked off his attributes, and the last one made Rheo wince. Embarrassment still lingered.
“Adventurer, nomad, traveler, never in the country,” Rheo retorted. “We’re complete opposites. It would never work.”
Abi shrugged. “I think anything can work, if people want it enough.”
“Easier said than done,” Rheo told her. “He and my cousin are very much alike, actually. Bold and bright and chasing the sun,” she said, reaching for the wine bottle.
“Are they together?” Abi asked.
Not now. Of that much she was sure. “He said they are just friends, but you’ve seen Carrie’s IG account. I’m pretty sure they must’ve hooked up at some point, because guys are never just friends with my beautiful cousin.”
“She’s one gorgeous chica ,” Abi agreed.
Right? “On paper, they are perfect for each other... They love the same things and enjoy the same life. And, God, they’d make beautiful babies.”
“Yet the chemistry between you two is hot enough to power a town,” Abi stated, grinning. “Every time you walk into my place, I feel the need to have the fire extinguisher close by.”
Rheo grinned back. “It’s the weirdest thing.”
She rocked back in her chair, watching two women leaving a bar two doors along, smiling as they shared a kiss. Chemistry was one of life’s great mysteries. Fletch walked into a room and her skin pebbled. He looked at her, and thoughts of what they did naked—dirty, lovely things—rolled over her and heated the space between her legs, causing her nipples to harden. Would the next man she dated make her feel like this? She doubted it. Fletch was a once-in-a-lifetime lover.
Abi lightly slapped Rheo’s hand to pull her attention back. “Get your mind out of the bedroom and drink your wine, Rheo.”
Rheo blushed. After catching up on Abi’s life and business, Rheo ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “Fletch wants me to step out of my comfort zone. He badgered me into taking a walk this morning.”
“Where?”
“On the hiking trail above the Pink House.”
Abi slapped her hands against her cheeks, pretending to be shocked. “Outside?” Rheo rolled her eyes. Abi grinned and dropped her hands. “And how was it?”
“Fun, actually. I mean, I’m never going to be a mountain climber, but it was nice,” Rheo admitted. “We only walked for an hour. Fletch was very patient with me ambling along behind him.”
“Tell me more about you getting out of your comfort zone?” Abi asked.
Rheo explained, and when she was done, Abi leaned back and crossed her legs. “I think he’s right. I think you’ve let yourself get into a rut and haven’t done anything to dig yourself out of it. I think if Fletch hadn’t come along, your time would’ve run out and you would’ve been catapulted back into the real world, crashed, and maybe flamed out again.”
She wanted to argue, but knew Abi was right. Before Fletch dropped into her world, she’d been hiding, unable to focus or make any decisions.
“He thinks I need to try other things I haven’t attempted before. He believes my inability to translate is linked to my confidence. He’s convinced that when I get my confidence back, I’ll be able to work as well as I did before.”
Abi nodded slowly. “I agree with him, Rheo. I think we should all push beyond our comfort zones. That’s where the fun is, it’s where we grow.”
Yeah, but it was scary out there in the unknown. “He also thinks I should tell my family where I am and explain what happened at work.”
“I’ve been telling you that for months!” Abi protested.
Yes, but it hadn’t resonated until Fletch came along. She nodded to her phone, sitting on the table between them. “He suggested I call Carrie and tell her first. See how she reacts and then tell my parents.”
“And Paddy?”
Rheo pulled a face. “Not ready to go there yet. I don’t want to disappoint her, nor do I want to damage our relationship.”
“Surely it won’t come to that? Aren’t you overreacting?”
It was a fair question, and one she’d considered. “Paddy is tricky,” Rheo told her.
Last year, she couldn’t see any fault in her grandmother, but she now recognized Paddy’s assertiveness could be described as being bossy. Paddy didn’t have, as the Spanish said— sin pelos en la lengua— any hair on her tongue . She was ridiculously direct and sometimes her straightforwardness tipped over into cruelty.
In some ways, Rheo’s life, and the people in it, were a little like an old-fashioned photograph being soaked in a chemical solution, slowly gaining clarity with time.
“So, why haven’t you phoned your cousin yet?” Abi asked.
“Because I’m a coward?” Rheo replied.
“Mmm-hmm.” Abi snatched Rheo’s phone off the table. Rheo scrambled out of her chair, and when she made it to Abi’s side, her friend was inside the apartment and the video call was in progress. Right, she really needed to put a screen lock on her phone.
But Rheo wasn’t too worried. Carrie wouldn’t answer, she was far too busy—
“Who are you and why are you on Rheo’s phone?” Carrie’s familiar voice floated across to her.
“Hey, I’m Abi, Rheo’s friend,” Abi replied. She grabbed Rheo’s arm and tugged her to her side. “Here’s Rheo.”
Carrie’s smile was sweeter than she expected it to be. “Hi, Rhee,” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”
Rheo smiled, thinking Carrie looked fantastic. Her cousin’s face was makeup free, her long blond hair was beach-babe messy, and she wore a ratty, paint-splattered shirt. Rheo noted a smear of green on the side of her nose.
“Have you taken up painting again?” Rheo asked.
“I wish! No, paintball shooting.”
Pity. Carrie was a talented painter. Rheo took the phone from Abi and they walked back onto the patio. When Abi turned to walk into the kitchen, wanting to give her some privacy, Rheo tugged her shirt and pulled her back. Abi sat down again, but Rheo leaned against the railing.
“Is that Gilmartin?” Carrie demanded, her eyes narrowing. “Are you in Gilmartin ? What the hell, Rhee? You said you’d never go back there!”
Rheo gulped. “Well, that’s why I’m calling you—”
“Where are you staying?” Carrie demanded, her voice rising. “Paddy rented the Pink House to a friend of mine, Fletch. Have you met him? Why aren’t you telling me anything, Rheo?”
“Well, I would if you’d give me a minute to speak,” Rheo told her, exasperated.
Carrie waved her hand and nodded. “Okay, okay !” Her silence lasted a second. “But how long have you been there and—”
“Carrie, shut up, okay?” Rheo shouted, feeling on edge. She moved to the closest chair and looked at Abi, who smiled in sympathy. “It’s a long story, and I won’t be able to tell you if you keep interrupting.”
“Just tell me you are okay,” she said, sounding anxious.
“I’m fine.” Rheo never expected Carrie to be so worried about her. “Well, better than I was. I messed up at work, quite badly, and I went into a bit of a downward spiral,” Rheo said, testing the waters. At the first hint of teasing from Carrie, she’d cut the call.
“What about Callum?”
“Ah, he dumped me before all this happened.”
“The dick biscuit.”
Abi half snorted, half laughed at Carrie’s description. Carrie, to Rheo’s surprise, just tipped her head to the side and waited for more. So far, so good.
“I was forced into a six-month sabbatical, and instead of staying in New York, I sublet my apartment and came here. I’ve been hiding out in Gilmartin for a while now.”
Carrie’s eyes got bigger and bigger, and Rheo, now on a roll, decided to tell her the rest. “I’ve been living in the Pink House, but Paddy doesn’t know.”
“But Fletch is living there,” Carrie murmured, looking confused.
“His arrival was a bit of a shock. He agreed to let me stay, and I persuaded him to keep my presence in Gilmartin secret.”
“But why?” Carrie wailed.
Here came the hard part. “Because I didn’t want to tell any of you that my supposedly perfect life wasn’t so perfect after all,” she quietly admitted.
Carrie stared at her, her eyebrows lifting. “Honey,” she drawled, “the only person who thinks your life is perfect is you. We think it’s stressful and tough and very, very rigid.”
Abi winced and Rheo felt two feet high. Right.
Carrie went on. “You’re allowed to mess up, Rheo, for God’s sake! So, your life didn’t go to plan, it often doesn’t!”
Carrie wasn’t reacting the way Rheo expected her to, and that puzzled and annoyed her. They always dealt with each other in a certain way, had done so all their lives, but Carrie was reading from a new script. And Rheo didn’t know her lines.
“So you and Fletch are staying in the Pink House together,” Carrie mused, a small smile touching her face. “What do you think of him? He’s cool, right?”
Of all the words Carrie could pick, “cool” was the last one Rheo anticipated. Hot, sexy, masculine... She’d braced herself to hear those. But Carrie’s “cool” was friendly and held no sexual heat. Rheo frowned as she took in her wide smile. Was her idea of Fletch and her cousin hooking up in the past another of her stupid-ass assumptions?
So, what did she think about him? That he was the hottest, sexiest, nicest man she’d met? Ever? That he gave the best orgasms, and she loved talking to him more than any other person she could think of? That she was hovering on the edge of falling for him, conscious of losing her footing?
Rheo had no clue how to express her thoughts, so she just lifted one shoulder. “He’s okay,” she said.
Abi shook her head and rolled her eyes.
“Fletch and I have become...” she hesitated “...friends. He’s encouraging me to come clean with the family.”
“And he’s right,” Carrie snapped. “You keep yourself apart, Rheo, and pulling personal information out of you is like pulling blood from a stone.”
Yes, well, that’s what happened when you didn’t fit in.
“So, are you going to tell your parents?” Carrie asked, gripping the bridge of her nose.
“At some point,” Rheo replied.
“They’ll be fine with it. They don’t freak out when life does a three-sixty. Paddy, on the other hand, she’s going to lose her shit when she hears your wonderful job is in jeopardy and that you’ve been living in her house without her permission.”
“I know,” Rheo said, sounding glum. “Please don’t tell her, Carrie I need to. If she hears it from you, she’ll be even madder at me.”
Carrie nodded. “I’ll keep it quiet, but the longer you delay telling her, the angrier she’ll be. Man, she’s gonna be mad. You’re her blue-eyed girl, literally. The one who got things right.”
“And that’s why I haven’t told her yet,” Rheo admitted. “I don’t want to disappoint her.”
“Oh, we’ve all disappointed her at some stage in our lives and the world keeps turning,” Carrie told her, grinning. “Paddy’s good opinion isn’t the be-all end-all, Rhee.”
No, it just felt like it.
“Even your dad has managed to keep going despite them not talking for a year,” Carrie said, sounding sarcastic.
“Do you believe he asked to see Paddy’s will?” Rheo asked.
Carrie looked surprised. “Are we still talking about this? Jesus, you and Paddy can’t let things go! It happened so long ago—”
No, only twelve months...
“—but no, I don’t. He said he didn’t, and I believe him. Your dad doesn’t mind being called a layabout or a drifter, but being called a liar caused more hurt than you or Paddy realize.”
Great.
Somebody called Carrie’s name and she turned around, bestowing her golden smile on someone off camera.
“I’ve got to go,” she told Rheo. She lifted her finger and pointed it at Rheo, frowning. “Call Paddy and your folks. Oh, and I might be able to get to Gilmartin sooner than I thought. Do you want to do some climbing with Fletch and me?”
Rheo scowled at her mischievous smile. “I’m just going to let my middle finger do the talking right now,” she told her, with no heat in her voice.
Carrie laughed, disconnected, and Rheo tossed her phone on the table and looked at her friend. “Well, that went better than I thought.”
“Good,” Abi told her and pushed her glass of wine closer to her. “Now drink. I’ve never seen anyone who needs more of a buzz than you do right now.”
Rheo reached for her glass, lifted it, and eyed the pale gold liquid. “Tequila would be better,” she mused.
“Oh yeah.” Abi grinned. “I’ve got you covered, girlfriend.”
Because wasn’t tequila like duct tape, able to fix anything?
The next morning, Rheo sat on the kitchen steps and prayed the little men digging trenches in her head would put down their tools and strike. Her stomach pitched and rolled, and she was lightheaded from too little food and way too much alcohol. What did she think she was doing tossing back tequila shots like there was no tomorrow?
Tomorrow had arrived and it was kicking her ass.
Ooh la, j’ai la gueule de bois. She’d never understood what having a wooden mouth felt like before today.
She nursed the cup of hot black coffee Fletch had pushed into her hands when she stumbled into the Pink House a half hour ago, having passed out around three at Abi’s. Along with her pounding head, she was pretty sure sleeping on Abi’s couch dislocated her spine and put her hip out of alignment.
Rheo pushed her hand through her hair and longed for bed. She wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep off her hangover, but Rheo believed part of being an adult was accepting the consequences of her actions. She might be on a sabbatical, but she couldn’t sleep the day away.
Rheo looked across to where Fletch worked in the sunlight. He’d designed a new gazebo, bought additional supplies, and dug holes for the four posts. He was another reason she couldn’t trundle up to bed. She’d promised to be his apprentice today, and he wasn’t going to let her skulk away.
“Feeling a bit rough, Whitlock?” he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.
Rheo stuck her tongue out at him. While Rheo looked—and possibly smelled—like a ratty dishrag, Fletch looked revoltingly healthy, energetic, and vital. He wore old jeans, a T-shirt, and a ballcap over his blond-brown hair.
“I hate you,” Rheo informed him, resting her cheek on her knee.
“You know the old saying...one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor ,” Fletch told her, laughing. He poured water on a pile of concrete he’d heaped on an old piece of board, and, using a shovel, started to form a gray, lumpy paste.
“It wasn’t one of my brighter ideas,” Rheo admitted. She tapped her fingers against her mug. She stared down at her coffee, looking for her words. “So, I talked to Carrie last night.”
Fletch lifted his eyebrows but didn’t stop turning the concrete and water mixture.
“Good talk or bad talk?” he asked, not breaking his stride.
“It was better than I expected,” Rheo admitted. She hadn’t spoken to Carrie for any length for ages, yet her cousin had behaved as if they’d spoken only last week. There’d been no embarrassment or stilted conversation...not from Carrie anyway.
“Did you tell her you’re hiding in Gilmartin, and you’ve taken a break from your job and life?”
“I did. She wasn’t too fazed, to be honest.”
“She wouldn’t be. Carrie doesn’t sweat the small stuff.”
Rheo jerked, and her head rolled— ow, ow ow! —annoyed at Fletch calling jeopardizing her job and life small .
“She said she might be here sooner than she thought,” Rheo said.
“Hmm, I know. She called me soon after she spoke to you,” Fletch told her, dropping the spade and walking over to the pile of posts. He lifted one and pushed it to a standing position, and Rheo enjoyed the flex of his biceps. “I’m going to need your help here, Rhee.”
She needed all her energy to remain sitting upright on the kitchen step, and he expected her to do manual work?
“I have a hangover, Fletch,” she whined.
“Get your pretty ass over here, Whitlock.”
It took Rheo ages to climb to her feet and walk the few yards to where he stood. She yawned as Fletch tipped the post into one of the four holes he’d dug and told her to hold it straight. When he turned away to shovel concrete into the hole, she allowed the post to rest on her shoulder. The sun on her head and face made her eyes flutter closed.
“Shit, Rhee, hold it straight,” Fletch told her. He picked up a small, plastic thingamajig and placed it on the pole, staring at the bubble in the window of it and making minor changes to the pole.
“I’m using a spirit level to make sure the pole is straight.”
Okay...but she so didn’t care.
“Keep the pole right there and do not let it move, at all,” he ordered.
Wow, she rather liked this bossy side of him. But she preferred him to order her about in the bedroom. Oooh, sex. Sex would be fun. Mmm. Interesting that she was too hungover to live, but she still wanted sex. Maybe there was life beyond death...
“We can ditch this and go to bed,” she told Fletch as he shoveled concrete into the hole around the base of the pole.
“After which you’ll crash for the rest of the day.” Fletch shook his head. “Nope, I want to get this done.”
He’d refused sex to finish building a gazebo. What did that mean? She stared at his tanned neck and wondered if the bloom was off the rose, whether his excitement was fading. They’d been sleeping together for a month now and maybe boredom was setting in, his feet were getting itchy. God, she hoped not. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. Would she ever be?
“Carrie asked me what I thought about you,” Fletch stated.
Oh... She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before speaking. “And what did you tell her?” she asked, cursing when her tone wasn’t nearly as casual as she wanted it to be.
“That you are a complete pain in my ass... You’re not holding the pole straight, Rheo!” Fletch huffed, did his spirit-level thing again, and told her to hold it to the pole and to make sure the bubble didn’t move. God, the pressure .
“Did you really tell her that?” Rheo demanded, increasing her grip on the pole and holding the spirit level to the wood, keeping her eye on the now straight bubble. “And more importantly, did you mean it?”
Fletch filled the hole with concrete, stood, and took the spirit level from her hands. “You can let go, Rheo, it’ll stand on its own now.”
She dropped her hands, expecting the pole to topple, but it stayed upright. Fletch walked to where she stood, took off his cap, and tugged it onto her head. “Your face is burning,” he told her, dropping a kiss to the side of her mouth. “I also told her you are fun and lovely and asked why she hadn’t introduced you to me sooner.”
No way. Rheo stared at his broad back as he picked up a pole and moved it to another hole. He stood it upright, and Rheo handed him the spirit level without asking. His words soothed her battered spirit, and energy coursed through her veins, as she mentally danced. Mental dancing was all she was capable of.
Rheo helped Fletch as he moved from hole to hole, inserting the poles and tossing in concrete. His design was a lot more complicated, and lovelier, than hers, and would look stunning with a creeper covering it. She was grateful for his help and told him so.
“It’s easy enough to build and I did knock yours down,” he told her, smiling. “Admittedly, not hard to do.”
She pulled a face at him before yawning.
“How was your evening?” Rheo asked. “What time did you get home?”
“At a very respectable ten thirty,” Fletch replied. “Mick, Sam, and I played pool at Diego’s.”
He transferred concrete into the last hole before standing and resting his forearm on the handle of the spade. “Hey, have you heard about the Gilmartin Mud Race?”
She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “Should I have?”
“Probably not, since anything involving exercise is not your jam.”
“I did enjoy our hike the other morning.”
Fletch’s smile was low, sweet, and slow. “ Walk , not hike, but I’m glad. Anyway, the mud race is coming up soon and it’s exactly as described—a muddy race but with obstacles. Mick and Sam want me to join their team and run it with them.”
Rheo wondered at his lack of enthusiasm. Fletch loved running and a little mud wouldn’t put him off. “You sound hesitant.”
He pushed his hand through his sweaty hair. “I want to do it, but I don’t think my doctor will approve of me doing a twelve-mile somewhat challenging obstacle run. I’m supposed to be taking a break from physical activity.”
“You often run. You’ve rock-climbed and done a couple of long hikes,” Rheo pointed out.
He shrugged off her words. “Yeah, but those weren’t physically taxing at all.”
So annoying.
“I refused to join the brothers on a forty-mile trail, but if I take part in this race, it’ll get back to Seb and he will not be pleased. He’s not only my doctor but my friend, and I don’t like going behind his back.” He pushed his hair off his face with his forearm. “The guys want to use the event and me joining their team as a way to promote their business.”
“Don’t you normally charge people to do that?”
He lifted his shoulder. “I like them. They work hard and are passionate about what they do. And, frankly, they couldn’t afford to pay my fees. I don’t mind helping them out. I just have to get the go-ahead from Seb first.”
“Why is he monitoring your exercise?” Rheo asked, intrigued.
“My expeditions are grueling, and I tend to push myself too hard.”
“Really?” Rheo asked dramatically.
“Haha, funny,” he retorted. “Anyway, Seb tells the insurance company I’m healthy and fit enough to take on expeditions, and he’s worried my body has taken a pounding lately, so he told me to cut back on pushing myself. Anyway, we’re getting offtrack. I mentioned the mud race because I think it could help you.”
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the connection.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m proud of you for calling Carrie, Rhee. You’ve taken the first step out of your comfort zone. It gets easier after this.”
She adjusted the rim of his cap, squinting at him. Okay, she had a hangover, but she was battling to keep up with him this morning.
“I’m as worried about telling my parents now as I was before, and I’m still terrified of telling my grandmother.”
“It’ll be fine, Rheo. The anticipation is always worse than the reality,” he said, running his hand over her shoulder. “Isn’t living beyond the comfort zone fun?”
She glared at him. “No.”
“If you wanted to do something different, something that would give you a massive confidence boost if you finished it, you could do the mud race.”
She stared at him, convinced the hot sun had fried his brains. Ich glaub mein Schwein pfeift? Was her pig, as the Germans said, whistling?
“Me, do a twelve-mile mud race? Are you batshit crazy ?”
“You could never do twelve miles,” he said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.
“I know! I wasn’t the one who suggested it!” Rheo replied, nettled.
She needed to go inside the house, drink a pint of cold water to rehydrate, and swallow a handful of painkillers. And she also needed sleep.
“But you could do the fun race!” He wasn’t budging off his shitty idea.
“I am not running, walking, or climbing over anything, especially if there’s mud.”
“You should. There’s nothing quite like doing something outside your comfort zone and succeeding.” He placed another pole in the last hole, and they made it straight, with Rheo holding it in place. “But you might need to join a team.”
“I’m not a team player. Or a mud runner. Or a runner .”
Did he not know her at all? There was zero fun in getting sweaty and breathless and dirty.
“I’ll ask Mick and Sam to listen out for a team needing a fourth member,” Fletch said, shoveling concrete into the last hole.
He wasn’t listening, damn him. Hadn’t heard a word. Rheo made sure the pole wouldn’t topple before standing back. She turned to face Fletch, wound her fist in his shirt, whipped his cap off her head, and slapped it against his chest. “It’s not happening, Wright! Not now, not anytime in the future. And, should I decide to live beyond my comfort zone, I’ll choose what I want to do, not you.”
“You’ll change your mind,” Fletch replied.
His patronizing smile set Rheo’s teeth on edge. Because she was hungover, annoyed, edgy, and more than a little pissed off at his high-handed manner, Rheo placed her index finger on the pole and gently pushed. It didn’t take much for the pole to lean, and when gravity started to work, it popped out of the concrete with a little plop .
Fletch cursed and Rheo walked off, thinking he could sort it out on his own. He believed he could manage her life, so he could manage this too.
She had a hangover to nurse and a midmorning nap to enjoy.