CHAPTER 18 #2
Before I can even begin to put together some sort of response, Rhodes continues.
“You don’t owe me a damn thing. I’m not keeping score and we don’t have to even anything out.
There will be times when you give more to me and it might be sexually or it could be emotionally.
” His grey eyes bore into mine. “I’m not keeping score. ”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I’m about to argue that giving him pleasure would do the same for me; but he’s out of bed, his hard length bobbing, and scooping me up into his arms. He takes me directly into the bathroom and all I can do is pout up at him.
With a kiss to my forehead, he murmurs, “Get ready for the day and then show me what these yard sales are all about.”
“You want to go with me?” It’s impossible to keep the shock out of my voice as I ask the question.
“Try and stop me,” he challenges me before winking and striding out of the bathroom. “I’ll make some breakfast,” he throws over his shoulder.
I stand there with my eyes watching the place where he was just standing for a minute. Okay, maybe I’m reliving the view of his ass as he walked away. He’s lucky that he wasn’t closer. There’s no way I could have stopped myself from slapping it.
The morning becomes a montage of showering, coffee, breakfast, and then being led to Rhodes’s truck. It’s perfect. Almost.
“You know, I should probably drive,” I point out, “since I know where I’m going. We could take my car.”
The look my man shoots me is incredulous as fuck and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling. It would only encourage him.
“That’s not happening, Sweetheart,” he growls. “Consider yourself my passenger princess anytime we go anywhere.” He shrugs one shoulder like what he said isn’t the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life. “You don’t really have a choice in the matter, sorry.”
He doesn’t sound sorry at all. I don’t really feel the need to argue with him and let him get me settled in my seat. As the passenger.
“Why do you go to these things? Is there something specific you collect or something?”
His question is innocent and with a background soundtrack of Jordan Davis playing on the radio. I relax back into my seat and decide to be transparent. Sure, he might think I’m strange, but maybe he’ll surprise me.
“I’m looking for lampshades that I can recover in fabric with a vintage style and if I can use vintage fabric then it’s even better.” When I glance over at him, his eyebrows are pulled together as he steals little looks toward me. “If I can find some fabric, I’ll be over the moon.”
“You recover lampshades?”
I huff out an annoyed breath at the way he sounds flummoxed. “Yes,” I grit out.
“That’s,” he pauses as if he’s searching for the right word, “very specific.” Even though my heart is already breaking at what I’ll see, I glance his way as he stops at a stop sign.
When he meets my gaze, I only see curiosity there, but it’s not enough to relax me completely.
“What do you do with the lampshades you recover? Do you give them as gifts?” His eyes widen and then he blurts out, “My grandmother would probably love them. Everything about her is vintage.”
I make a tsking sound with my mouth and shake my head at his ridiculousness. “That’s not nice to say about her. What? Just because she’s old?”
“No,” he shakes his head and continues to drive, “because she has that feel, you know? Classic. Nostalgic. Stylish in a throwback kind of way. Vintage.”
I make a noise in the back of my throat to let him know that I heard him as I gnaw on my bottom lip.
My voice is small, uncertain as I admit, “I sell them online. I have a modest following because I share my work. Usually when I put something up for sale, it goes pretty fast or people will reach out for a commission.”
“Wow,” there’s awe in his voice, not condescension, “that’s amazing, Helen. Will you show me some of the lampshades you’ve created?”
The fact that he’s interested makes it feel like my stomach is filled with sparkling bubbles. It’s nice. And I believe his interest is genuine.
“Sure,” I try to keep my voice casual, but it comes out more like a squeak.
One side of his mouth tips up at the sound. I almost swoon because my man is so fucking handsome and sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s really mine.
But he’s made it very clear that I’m his. And turnabout is fair play and all that.
“You seem excited now about this,” I point out as I watch his profile.
“Now I understand just how much these kinds of days mean to you. Going with you means you’re letting me in and that’s going to always be something I’m excited about, Helen.”
Well. Fuck.
I don’t have anything to say to that. As I look out the window, Rhodes’s large hand covers my knee and gives a squeeze. The touch has my nipples hardening as my clit throbs. It’s almost impossible not to squirm, but I manage it. Barely.
When we finally get to the market, Rhodes shoots me a look before striding around to my side and opening my door. I know I flush at the act, but I can’t help it. Having a man show me this kind of care is completely foreign to me.
I almost sigh at how textbook the whole thing is and I’m looking back at my past in a new light. Talk about Daddy issues, huh?
As we get out of the parking area and into the main market, I swear I see Thad slip through a few tents ahead of us. But it’s just a glimpse and I can’t be sure. I’ll be keeping my eyes open though because the absolute last thing I want is to be forced to endure a conversation with that man.
I don’t even know why he would be here. This certainly isn’t the kind of place he would go to willingly. But it’s not like I really know him anymore.
Thankfully.
Rhodes wanders a few steps away from me as I look through a bin of bed sheets because you never know what kind of fabric you can find, or where you’ll find it.
“Well, hello,” a man drawls and the hair on my arms stands up. “Is there something I can help you find?”
When I turn toward the man, he’s old enough to be my father and I immediately take a step back. And run straight into a strong, solid chest. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know it’s Rhodes and his smokey, cedar scent confirms it.
His hands land on my hips and he gives a squeeze. “Don’t hit on my woman,” his voice is lethal in the best of fucking ways.
The man holds his hands up in surrender as Rhodes leads me away from the booth.
I can’t help but tease him, “I wasn’t done looking around.”
“Yes,” he growls, “you were.” His voice drops an octave, “Like I’m going to stand by and watch some fucker hit on my woman. I don’t fucking think so.”
A giggle bubbles out of me, effervescent and completely free. “You’re ridiculous.”
“If that’s what you have to tell yourself, that’s fine,” he fires back with a shrug.
When he looks down at me, affection and possession are swirling there. They aren’t competing; there is no war. It just is.
I let myself sink into the feeling and then show Rhodes what I love about days like this, and everything I find magical wandering through stalls of things most people would forget or look over.
We laugh. We whisper secrets. We hold hands.
And with every step, the connection between us deepens and I fall in love with him in a way I know will never fade or falter.
I think the only thing that could come between us at this point was if I did something stupid like investigating somewhere I have no business being.
I have no doubt he would arrest me if I did something dangerous like that again.
I might be down for him cuffing me, but taking me to the station? No, thanks.
But I certainly will soak up every second I get with my man as he looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world.