16. Sixteen
Sixteen
Rhett
I found Kyla in the bedroom when I finally walked through my front door. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail and changed from the jeans she wore into a pair of shorts and a tank top. And she was barefoot.
Was she okay? Was she uneasy? Was she calm?
I couldn’t tell.
I folded my arms and leaned against the doorframe as Kyla dug through a box that sat on the bed. T-shirts and dresses were lying on the white comforter, and shoes were on the floor next to the bed. She pulled out a yellow polka dotted sundress and laid it on top of the others. I just watched.
Where did I even begin? I couldn’t really tell her that I was happy to call her my wife, that she was where I thought she was meant to be. I had only known her for two weeks, even though it felt like so much longer, but things felt different with her here. I didn’t know how to put all of that into words . . . so I watched as my wife got comfortable in the bedroom. She moved quickly, but once that box was empty, she tossed it on the floor and heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping.
“Your family wouldn’t hate me if I skipped out on dinner . . . would they?” she asked, looking up at me for a split second.
I pushed myself off the door frame and ran my fingers through my hair.
“They’ll survive,” I responded as I reached out and grabbed the yellow dress, feeling the fabric between my fingers. “Mrs. Hartwell, if we aren’t going over there for dinner, what can I make you?”
Kyla let out a nervous laugh. “You? Make dinner?”
“I’m a fantastic cook.” Turning, I made my way to the kitchen, praying to the kitchen gods that there was enough food in there for me to make something for Kyla.
I pinched my eyes as I opened the refrigerator.
Score.
Chicken.
“I did go shopping while you were gone,” Kyla added softly, her voice getting louder as she approached, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “And then ate with your family almost every night so nothing got made or eaten.”
Pulling the chicken from the fridge, I turned to look at Kyla over my shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at her. “So, you do need a break from my family? ”
“No, your family . . . they’re great. Abi has become a friend, your mom is a gem, and Stetson, well . . . he did ask me to marry him.” She gave me a soft smile, moving her ring finger, making the small diamond glisten.
“He does know we got married right?”
Pinching her brow, she looked up at me through her eyelashes.
“Rhett . . .” She sucked in a quick breath. “What does your family know? I mean, I know you told them that it was because of David . . . but . . . what else?”
Her question didn’t take me by surprise. Before I even took Kyla to the courthouse, I sauntered in the kitchen where most of my family sat, and told them I was marrying Kyla. Abi’s eyes widened as her arms flew in the air, exclaiming that she took all the credit for this marriage taking place. Lachlan raised his eyebrows, slouching back in his chair to fold his arms, no doubt silently judging me as he stayed silent. Wyatt was still in his small apartment in the bunkhouse, so he missed the news, and my parents . . . they both congratulated me, keeping mainly to themselves. Which was unlike them. My dad would have something to say on the matter later for sure, but I expected more from my mom. Instead, the only reaction she gave was a simple nod.
After dropping the marriage news, I gave them the gist on David, telling them to watch out for him and not to fall for whatever game he was playing. When they all understood, I grabbed a piece of bacon and turned on my heels to go marry the woman of dreams.
My mother though, she was the one who stood to follow me out. Like moms always could, she told me she knew there was more to this than meets the eyes. That there was something there with Kyla that I had to figure out. It amazed her, but didn’t shock her, that I was willing to do so much to protect her—even give her my name—when I knew very little about her. According to her, Kyla was here to stay, and I hoped that her future telling abilities were spot on. Before I left, she gave me a hug, mumbled that she was proud and that she loved me, and then said she would keep an eye out for—and I quote her—“that developer asshat.”
Bringing the gas stove to life, I placed the iron skillet on the flame.
“I told them the basic truth,” I said smugly.
“So, they know this is fake.”
I smirked. “This isn’t fake Kyla, we’ve been married for months.” I glanced at her over my shoulder once again.
Kyla twisted her lips. “Okay then, they know it’s temporary.”
Sensing the unease, I turned to face her, seeing the stiffness in her posture. She fiddled with her fingertips, moving to the ring to twist it in circles. “What’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath and put her palms on the counter, her shoulders dropping as the breath left her. “Nothing . . . I called Grace and she wants to come visit, and you were at the main house for a long time and I just . . . started to unpack and it kind of all . . .”
“You’re overthinking everything aren’t you?” I raised an eyebrow at her.
“How are you not?” she asked softly.
I shrugged my shoulders and then turned back to the skillet which was now hot and ready for the chicken. I listened to the simmer before answering Kyla. “There’s nothing to think about. ”
“There’s a lot to think about. For starters, there’s only one bed in this house.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“And one bathroom.” She eyed me.
“We’ll take turns.” I held in a laugh. Even now I found her absolutely adorable. I couldn’t even fathom what was going on inside her brain.
“And how am I supposed to act around you, your family . . . anyone for that matter?”
“Like you have been. They like having you here, just like I do.” The corners of my lips rose as I placed my palms on the counter, leaning close to her.
“And what if David shows back up here, say, tonight? Am I just supposed to kiss you senseless until he leaves us alone? How is that going to be believable? You don’t even have a ring. How are you going to pass being my husband in front of him, or my mother, if you don’t even have a ring?” Her voice quickened with each rapid question, raising with each word, and I swore I could hear her heartbeat. Her cheeks flushed as her hands moved to cover her face. Then it hit me . . . she was starting to panic.
“Kyla, slow down.” I tried to keep my voice calm. She didn’t need me chuckling at how adorable I thought she was even as she panicked, she needed me to keep my promise. I left the stove and rounded the kitchen island, gently placing my hands on her shoulders. “You’ll sleep in the bedroom, and I’ll be on the couch unless you would be more comfortable having me in the main house.”
“No,” she shot, a shaky breath leaving her lips, “I want you here. ”
I smiled, relieved. “Okay, I’ll sleep on the couch. Bathroom is not an issue. My family is not an issue, so don’t act any different around them. My mother likes having you around and Abi . . . well she’s more fond of you than anyone. She’s excited to have you around for longer than you originally planned, and me . . .” I met her gaze and held her there, tried to focus on her breathing, “I’m just excited I get to spend more time with you. We’ve talked on the phone for the last two weeks, it’s no different than that—”
“What about a ring?” she interrupted. “It’s going to be pretty hard to convince everyone you’re my husband if you don’t have a ring.”
“Do you want to get me a ring?” I asked.
Raising her hand to her shoulder, she took my left hand in hers and looked at my bare ring finger. Her eyes were concentrated, and her breathing, though still quick, began to slow.
“What about your rodeo schedule, when do you leave again?” she asked, her eyes focused on my hand.
“I don’t leave until the middle of July, and I’d love for you to come with me. It’s a great time and you’d get to see it firsthand.” I watched as her fingers played with mine, finally lacing them together.
“Your dad mentioned a rodeo here, on the Fourth?”
I hummed. “My favorite time of year. And it will be better because you’ll be here.”
“I won’t be in the way?”
“Never,” I whispered.
She sighed, running the pad of her thumb over the empty space on my ring finger. She had calmed down, and I wasn’t sure if the panic had left her completely, but she was more focused. Steady. Her hand still held mine, grounding her—grounding me—back to each other.
“Kyla,” I whispered, watching her intently. I don’t know what compelled me to say what I did next, but something told me she needed to know, “I don’t regret marrying you if that’s where your mind is going. I would do it again in a heartbeat, even without David in the picture.”
Slowly, she blinked before giving a small laugh through her lips. “You’re just saying that . . .”
“I’m not though. I’ve thought about you every day since I first saw you at the bar, and now I get to have you a little longer.” I let go of her hand, slipping my fingers to the back of her neck, “Do you regret marrying me?”
I had a feeling I knew her answer. I prepared myself for the ultimate drop of my stomach when she said she did, that this was temporary— fake —even though the document sitting on the counter proved it wasn’t.
“No,” she said softly, taking me completely by surprise. “I don’t. I would do it again in a heartbeat too, Cowboy.”
My heart skipped a beat as her eyes met mine, and gently, I leaned into kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger there a little longer. Taking a deep breath and sitting up straight, her palms running against my chest, she looked behind me to the stove.
“You’re overcooking the one side of the chicken,” she said with a smile, her voice no longer shaking, no more fear or panic. She had beat whatever it was .
“Oh, shit.” I left her sitting alone as I hurried back to the chicken, flipping it to see a semi-charred side. I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. So much for impressing her.
“I thought you said you were a fantastic cook?”
“Normally I am, when Mrs. Hartwell isn’t distracting me,” I teased, feeling the air lighten around us.
“Mrs. Hartwell,” she parroted as she stood and walked around the island. “You know, I think I will get you a ring.”
She leaned against the counter next to me, so close our arms were almost touching. She folded her arms and turned to look at me. I kept my focus on the chicken, ignoring the fact that she was close to me. Despite the fact that I just had her in my arms, I could still feel the flutters that happened in my stomach. She took a few deep breaths, before crossing her ankles, shifting her weight.
“You just helped me through a panic attack—stopped it before it could get worse,” she said softly, her eyes on her feet. “Did you know that?”
I looked at her from the corner of my eyes. “Are you okay?” I asked.
Kyla nodded, scooting a little closer to me, as she moved her attention to the stove. Exhaling through her lips, she began. “So, since you’re my husband, maybe we should spend the night . . .” She trailed off, her eyes fixed on the chicken as I turned them in the pan. I raised an eyebrow and waited for her to finish her sentence. “Getting to know each other.”
Lowing my eyebrow, I gave a small huff.
“What?” she asked. “What did you think I was going to say? ”
I shook my head. “I can’t think of anything else I’d rather do than get to know you.”
So, we talked as we finished cooking and ate. The dishes on the table went ignored as she told me about everything and anything she could think of. She told me all about Phoenix, and how her childhood was extremely different from mine. She talked about growing up in the city, her father owning his own company that led her to David, how her mother was a helicopter parent, while also being incredibly absent. I learned she was an only child, and that she always longed for a sister. She met Grace, her fearless best friend, in high school, and they had been glued at the hip ever since (not including the rough patch that they had thanks to David). Grace had become her sister, and sometimes they introduced each other as such. I smiled, remembering she had said Grace wanted to come visit. I couldn’t wait to meet the person that made my wife smile.
Her eyes lit up when she talked about teaching. She loved her students, she loved watching them learn, seeing things click in their brains. She teared up a little when she spoke about leaving the field in the middle of the school year, but simply knowing she could teach again one day helped her see a light at the end of the tunnel. Then there was Stetson, and how she had latched on to him and he to her.
“When he read his first chapter book all the way through, my heart swelled. I do adore that kid,” she said as she held her chest.
“I’m pretty sure the entire family adores you, not just Stet.”
Dropping her hands to her knees, she cocked her head and looked at me, her lips twitching into a soft smile. I smiled wide, stopping myself from kissing her. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. I wanted to kiss her whenever I wanted. The thought alone sent chills down my spine. Was it possible to fall for someone you barely knew?
Except now I felt like I knew her.
“Okay so now you.” She changed the subject. “You grew up on the ranch?”
I nodded. “I was riding a horse before I could walk.”
“And roping a calf?” she asked, raising a single eyebrow.
“Before I could run.” I winked.
“And when did you know you wanted to participate in the rodeo?”
“The minute I roped my first calf. I did rodeos in high school—the local dentist was my best sponsor.” I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck as I remembered the moment I took him my paperwork right after he declared I had four cavities. “Then I started going professional after I graduated, entered the PRCA and the rest is history.”
“Did you go to college?” she asked, her voice still, almost as if she was worried about offending me.
I shook my head. “No, never wanted to. I wanted to ride and rope and that’s exactly what I did. I know that when I retire from roping, I’ll be here on the ranch.” I leaned on the back of the couch, my arm draped over the cushions as I met her gaze. “We hold a rodeo every July Fourth . . .”
“You’ve mentioned it several times. Your dad too.” She sat up, leaning towards me. “I’ll get to be here for it.”
Nodding along with her, I followed her excitement. “This year a lot of cowboys are registered, it’s gonna be bigger this year. People may even include it in their standing. ”
“Like to go towards the NFR? How does that work?”
“Livestock events, and some timed, require cowboys to ride in one hundred rodeos to go towards their NFR standing. No one has ever claimed this one,” I explained. “I doubt they will, but it’s a nice thought to have.”
“But this is the Hartwell Rodeo, and you’re Rhett Hartwell .” She emphasized my name. Our name.
I choked a laugh. “I am, and you . . . are Mrs. Rhett Hartwell.” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice just enough to notice her eyes flutter. I didn’t imagine that, she definitely liked the sound of that.
“I am.” She sighed, straightening her back and narrowing her eyes at me. “Tell me more about the rodeo, I know I’ve learned a lot but tell me everything.”
Raising my eyebrows, I began to talk about all things rodeo as she sat and listened to me intently. I could get used to this. Having her here with me every night, engaging in what I did for a living—enjoying it. I couldn’t wait to see her at her first rodeo, donning that yellow sundress and her own hat. Damn, I needed to see that.