Chapter 15
Juniper
I shift slightly in my seat. The rest of the meeting is dragging longer than I expected, and my body hasn’t exactly caught up to the idea of business-as-usual.
Every time Rhett brushes his thumb across the edge of a page, every glance he throws me like a promise he hasn’t fulfilled yet, every low murmur of his voice… it keeps me lit from the inside.
And he knows it.
He smirks as he signs the final page, then slides the papers across the desk.
“Juniper?” he says, like he hasn’t just spent the last hour ruining me in half a dozen ways.
I pick up the pen, still a little breathless. My hand shakes slightly as I scrawl my name. When it’s done, Sawyer closes the folder with a satisfying thump and stands. Beau nods once at me, approving, and claps Rhett on the back as they both make their way out.
The moment the door clicks shut, Rhett turns to me.
“You, Juniper Quinn,” he says with that low drawl, “are now the legal holder of the Quinn Ranch.”
My mouth parts, but the words don’t come right away.
It’s real.
It’s mine.
After everything I finally own the one thing they always swore I never would. And I’m not sure how to feel about it. Do I keep it? Sell it? Burn it to the ground?
Rhett watches my face as the weight of it hits, but he doesn’t rush in to fill the silence. He just lets me feel it.
Then, with a grin that’s full of sin, he says, “And now it’s time to celebrate.”
I don’t ask what he means. I just follow him. He leads me out of the bank—his bank—and into the sunlight. I blink at the brightness. The heat. The sheer shift in the world. Everything’s changed.
He opens the truck door for me, and I slide inside. The leather seat is warm, and I swear I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin. By the time he climbs in beside me, my pulse is buzzing.
He turns the engine over but doesn’t pull out right away.
Instead, he looks at me and says, “How’s it feel?”
I swallow hard. “Like something I never thought I’d have. Or want.”
“You didn’t just get it. You took it.”
That does something to me.
He reaches over, fingers sliding under my chin. “You earned this. You own it. Don’t you ever forget that. Now let me take you somewhere you don’t have to think about any of it.”
“Where are we going?”
He smirks. “Great Falls.”
I laugh. “You’re really serious about that lingerie store?”
“Dead serious.” He pulls out onto the road. “I plan to make a whole day out of watching you try things on I’ll take off five minutes later.”
I’m blushing again, but this time I don’t look away. Because I think I’m ready to let him see every part of me. Even the ones I’ve kept buried under fear.
The hour-long drive to Great Falls goes by in a blink.
Rhett keeps one hand on the wheel and the other laced with mine. Windows down, wind in our hair, and that small-town country station playing low on the radio just enough to fill the quiet when we’re not laughing, which isn’t often.
He steals glances at me at stoplights. And every time he catches me looking back, he smirks like he’s already imagining what’s coming next.
“I still can’t believe you’re dragging me lingerie shopping.”
He glances at me with a look that could melt steel. “Dragging? Sweetheart, this was your idea the second you put that dress on and made me lose my mind.”
I roll my eyes, but my face is flushed. “You picked the dress.”
“Exactly,” he says. “I set the trap. You walked right into it.”
He pulls into a shopping district with an upscale boutique storefront tucked between a craft cocktail bar and a trendy bakery.
The windows are clean and feminine—lace and satin, blush tones, gold hooks, and delicate displays.
Soft without being frilly. Intimate without being trashy.
The kind of place you don’t just stumble into but arrive with intent.
“Have you been here before?” I ask as he shuts off the truck.
What I’m really asking is if he’s went shopping with another woman. The idea sends a bolt of jealousy right through me.
“Let’s just say I’ve been doing my research since you showed up in town.”
I give him a look. “Are you telling me you planned this?”
He opens my door and offers his hand like a gentleman. “Every second of it.”
Inside, the boutique smells like rosewater and something faintly citrus. A woman greets us with a polished smile and a soft southern accent. “Welcome to Sugar Lace. Are you shopping for someone special?”
“She’s shopping,” Rhett says, sliding a hand to the small of my back. “I’m just here to watch.”
The woman winks. “We’ve got a private changing suite in the back. You’re welcome to take as many styles as you’d like.”
She gives me a few pointers of where she thinks I should start and reassures me that they carry plus sizes in the store, so I won’t leave empty-handed.
As I browse, I feel Rhett watching me like I’m already wearing everything I pick up. His gaze lingers on my fingers when I touch the lace, on my smile when I hold up a dark emerald set with gold trim, on the curve of my hip when I lean to inspect a satin robe.
“Do you have a favorite color?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Whatever color looks best on my floor,” he says without missing a beat.
I choke on a laugh, and the saleswoman gives a polite little cough, pretending she didn’t hear it.
I grab a handful of pieces and disappear into the changing room.
Rhett waits just outside, leaning casually against the wall like he owns the place. Like this is his reward for surviving a week of board meetings and ranch buyouts. And maybe it is.
I try on the first set—black, strappy, barely there—and open the door just a crack.
“You better be sitting down,” I say.
“I’m already hard,” he says, “so you better be dressed.”
I laugh and push the door open wider.
His eyes drag over me like a wildfire, and I swear I feel the heat rise through my chest. Not embarrassment. Power. And something else. Ownership. Not his of me but mine of myself.
I’m the girl who owns her family’s ranch now. Who signs papers and wears lace and makes the man watching her feel like he’d kneel just to unzip her boots.
And it shows.
“You’re gonna be hell to survive tonight,” he murmurs.
I smirk. “I plan to be.”
I start to turn back into the fitting room, but Rhett’s hand lands on the door before I can close it.
“Hold up,” he says, voice thick. “I want to pick a few.”
I raise a brow. “You trust yourself to do that?”
He steps in close enough for only me to hear. “I know exactly what I want to see you in. And what I want to take off with my teeth.”
Heat races down my spine.
“I’ll allow it,” I whisper, and his eyes flash with something dark and wicked.
He turns, casual as hell, and strolls back toward the racks like a man surveying the spoils of war. The boutique attendant wisely keeps her distance.
In under five minutes, he returns with three hangers hooked on one finger and a gleam in his eye that should be illegal in daylight.
“What is that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“You’ll see.”
The first piece is blush pink, all soft mesh and delicate ribbon, almost too innocent until you notice the open front and crotchless panties.
The second is bolder. Deep burgundy with gold hardware. Strappy. Strategic. Lethal.
The third is a silk robe. Just a robe.
I’m confused until he says, “Nothing under it.”
I don’t know if it’s the thrill of being watched by him, or the absolute certainty that he’ll lose his mind once we’re alone, but I try each one on, and each time, his jaw gets tighter and his stare gets hotter.
By the end, my pulse is doing double time and Rhett’s knuckles are white where they grip the counter while I check out. He pays without missing a beat.
I start to protest, but he shakes his head and leans down to whisper, “Let me spoil you a little. You’ve earned it.”
And somehow, that’s the part that undoes me more than anything else.
We walk two blocks over to a boutique he’s already scoped out. It’s not the kind of place I’ve ever set foot in. Definitely not the kind of place my family would've let me near without a lecture about being “too proud.”
But Rhett holds the door open like it’s no big deal.
“What are we getting here?”
“You said you needed clothes,” he says. “Now you’re getting them.”
At his urging, I browse the aisles and find items that I fall in love with.
I try on jeans that actually fit. Blouses I wouldn’t have picked for myself because of the cost or because of what they show.
Lightweight sweaters. A leather jacket that makes me feel like I could walk back into that town and make them all look.
Dresses that flaunt my curves and makes me feel like a million bucks.
Every time I glance over, Rhett’s sitting in the little corner chair with his ankle propped on one knee, watching me like I’m the only thing in the damn store.
“I’ve never owned this much,” I admit as I set another bundle on the counter. “Not at once.”
He stands, walks over, brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “Get used to it.”
“I don’t want to take advantage—”
“You’re not,” he says, no hesitation. “I want to do this. For you. With you. You think it’s about clothes, but it’s not. It’s about rewriting how you see yourself. And I’m not stopping until you see what I see.”
I swallow hard. I feel seen. Truly seen.
When we finally leave, I’ve got three bags in each hand and a grin I can’t even try to hide.
“I feel ridiculous,” I laugh, trying to open the truck door with my elbow.
Rhett grabs the bags from me like it’s nothing. “You look hot as hell, sweetheart.”
He tosses them in the back, pulls me close, and kisses me right there on the sidewalk. It’s full of everything we haven’t said yet. Then he opens the passenger door for me again, like a gentleman.
“Where are we going next?”
“Sex toy store,” he says, completely deadpan.
My lips part. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
I stare at him for a beat. “You do realize we’re in downtown Great Falls, right? Not exactly the Vegas strip.”