Chapter 12 Hypothetical Boyfriend
Hypothetical Boyfriend
SADIE
Saturday evening, I'm in my room getting ready, phone pressed between my shoulder and ear while I dig through my closet.
“What are you wearing tonight?” my friend Cassidy asks through the phone speaker.
“Don't know yet. Something I won't sweat like a pig in, I guess. This heat is brutal.”
“Just pick something cute. You deserve a fun night out.”
I pull out a lavender dress, hold it up to the light. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
There's a pause. “You okay? You sound weird.”
“Just a long day with my mom.”
I’d visited her earlier today to make sure her dialysis machine was working right, her pantry was stocked, and her place was clean.
In exchange, she sat in her chair and smoked, only pausing to tell me that rumors are going rampant all over town that Walker Rhodes has a pretty little live-in and she's keeping his bed warm.
“Say no more.” Cassidy's voice softens with understanding. “All the more reason to let loose tonight. Have a drink, flirt with someone who's not your boss.”
I told Cassidy about the vibes between me and Walker, wanting to know if she had any advice or insight. She knows the Rhodes family well, but Walker is a decade older than us and he was already hotly pursing his career by the time she started spending a lot of time at Wild Rose Ranch.
Now Cassidy says, “Be careful, Sadie. The Rhodes boys have all had women throwing themselves at them for as long as I’ve known them. They might be rough-and-tumble, but they’re also privileged beyond belief. And they’ve all got a wild streak a mile wide. He’s not going to be the safe choice.”
Cassidy is all about the safe choices. Her fiancé is her first and only boyfriend, a neurosurgeon-in-training who is, as far as I can tell, ideal for her in the way that someone who's never home is ideal: no friction, no mess.
But I've never been in a relationship, so what do I know.
Between working multiple jobs and school and looking after Momma, there was never much room for anything else. Or anyone else.
“The more important question is, what are you wearing tonight?” I ask her.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be invisible next to you tonight. You’re the talk of the town. You’re either going to be ignored by guys terrified of Walker Rhodes, or swarmed by guys who want a piece of what he’s having.”
I flop back on the bed. “Ugh. Is it so much to ask for a guy who’s just interested in me as a human being?”
“Yes,” she says instantly. “Why do you think I’ve had the same boyfriend for six years? He’s not perfect, but he’s decent, and that’s rare enough. I’m never letting go. It’s hell out there.”
She’s not wrong. That hellscape is precisely why I’ve never given myself to anybody.
And it’s probably only going to get more hellish for me, now that I’ve put either a shield or a target on my back with all this gossip flying around about me and Walker.
Oh well. Not that I had any hopes of finding a relationship this summer. I’ve never had one before, and it would be just my luck to fall in love right before I’m leaving town.
After we say our goodbyes, I hang up the phone still smiling. Then I look out the window and see Walker in the yard with Jonah, and the smile stays, for an entirely different reason.
I watch them for a moment, one hand on the window frame.
Jonah's getting frustrated. I can see it in the set of his small shoulders, hear it in his voice even from here. He's complaining about something, probably the lasso practice Walker's been working on with him all week.
Walker demonstrates again, slow enough for Jonah to follow, the rope cutting through the air in a clean arc before it catches the fence post with a satisfying crack.
He’s patient and unhurried, like he's got all the time in the world for his son.
He makes it look effortless, the lasso and the patience both.
Today he’s in his hat, a white t-shirt, faded Wranglers, and scuffed boots. The late afternoon sun catches him just right, all tanned skin and thick, muscled biceps, and when he swings the lasso overhead I can see every shift and flex of his shoulders and arms.
He's good with his hands.
I’m not going to think about what other good things he might be able to do with those hands. I still can’t forget the way they felt on the bare skin of my thighs.
He’s my boss, I remind myself. The dad of the kid I’m nannying for. Whatever vibes might be between us, we’ve got too good of a thing going to complicate it.
The problem is, I think I like “simple” the way Walker likes “nice.” Which is to say, it bores the hell out of me.
I curl my hair and slip into the lavender dress. It looks pretty with my skin tone and doesn't cling in the heat, which is all I'm asking for tonight.
And if it just so happens that Walker seems to have a thing for my little dresses, well, that’s just a coincidence.
Grabbing my purse, I head outside before I can spiral any further down that particular path.
The summer heat slams into me the second I step off the porch, thick and heavy. I'm doubly glad I wore the light cotton dress.
Walker senses me immediately, like he's got some kind of radar for when I'm nearby.
While Jonah continues practicing, Walker pulls Journey up to where I'm standing and brings him to a halt, the stallion tossing his head once before settling. I let the horse nuzzle my flattened palm, the stallion’s breath warm and soft against my skin.
“You heading out?” Walker asks.
“I am.”
“Big plans?”
“If Marble Falls’ favorite dive bar is ‘big plans,’ then sure.”
“You coming back tonight?”
Something about the way he asks it makes it seem like a loaded question. Not casual at all. There's an edge to it I can't quite identify.
An unwelcome thought bubbles up. Does he not want me here tonight for some reason?
Is he expecting company?
Just because I haven't seen a woman stay over yet doesn't mean it doesn't happen. After all, Jonah spends Saturday nights at his grandpa's house. This would be the night Walker would usually have the place to himself.
He's a healthy man in his prime. Not to mention a famous one. It stands to reason he's getting regular sex.
Or was, until I showed up and complicated his living situation.
The idea makes me flush hotly, and not in a good way. Once more, there’s that feeling disturbingly like jealousy curdling in my gut.
I'm embarrassed by the obvious hesitation in my voice when I ask, “Should I not come back tonight?”
Now he frowns. “Didn't say that. Just figured you'd spend the night at your boyfriend's place.”
I look at him, baffled. “I don't have a boyfriend.”
“You don’t?”
Now we’re both two confused idiots just staring at each other.
“Why would you think that?” I ask.
“Because you said the words ‘my boyfriend’ a while back.”
It takes me a second to remember. Then it clicks. “Hypothetical boyfriend. In response to the offensive hypothetical scenario of said boyfriend screwing me on the couch, as you so eloquently put it.”
He winces. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Wow. Is that an admission of wrongdoing from Walker ‘End of Story’ Rhodes?”
“I can admit when I’ve been a jerk. That was one of those times.” He drags a hand along his jaw. “No boyfriend, huh? I guess that’s good.”
My heart starts beating just a little faster. “What makes you say that?”
He pauses. His eyes flicker away for a second before coming back to me. “Because I was gonna read that asshole the riot act for letting you drive around on those tires.”
Is that the only reason? The question is on the tip of my tongue.
His eyes are practically sparkling right now. Those broad shoulders have lost some of their tension. He might, in fact, be close to smiling.
He thought I had a boyfriend.
This whole time, he thought I was taken.
I don't have time to think about what any of that means, because Jonah trots up between us with that gap-toothed grin.
“Dad! You’re not supposed to say bad words! Sadie says so!”
“Sorry,” Walker says, looking not sorry at all. Not with that roguish smirk on his face. “See? I'm getting better at apologies.”
I shake my head, fighting a smile. “We'll keep working on your daddy's language, won't we?” I wink at Jonah.
“I'll miss you, Sadie,” Jonah says, his face going serious. “Please don't go for too long.”
Not for the first time, I wonder about Jonah's mom. Walker's ex-wife, famous for her astonishing beauty and equally astonishing jet-setting lifestyle.
I wonder why she's not breaking down the doors of those private jets to get back to her sweet little boy.
If he's gonna miss his nanny after one day, I can't imagine how much he misses his mother.
My heart squeezes painfully. “I'll miss you too, bud. I'll be back.”
“Are you gonna visit your Momma again?”
“Already did.”
“What about your dad? Do you ever visit him?”
Now it’s my turn to freeze.
“He’s not around,” I say carefully.
“Where is he?”
Leave it to a child to ask the most blunt questions possible. Especially when the child in question is Walker Rhodes’s kid.
“Last I heard,” I say, “he’s on a riverboat casino in Mississippi.”
“Doing what?”
“Playing cards.”
“Like Go Fish?”
“Could be,” I deflect. More like Texas Hold ‘Em. Baccarat. Blackjack. Anything where he can sit at a table with strangers and waste away his money and time and life, day after day, night after night.
“Why doesn’t he come visit you?” Jonah asks.
“Jonah,” Walker says, a note of warning in his voice. “That’s enough.”
“It’s okay.” My eyes meet Walker’s briefly before I look at Jonah again. “Some people just wanna go through life doing their own thing.”
Jonah nods. “Like my mom. She doesn't like to visit me either.”
Oh, my heart. This sweet boy.
I see myself in him suddenly. Just a little kid, trying to understand why his parent didn't stick around. Trying to make sense of being left behind by someone who was supposed to love you the most.
We're both members of the same sad club.