Chapter 22
Day Ten
Stay.
-The letters Rhett’s fingers spelled as he stroked Devon’s back while she slept on his chest this morning.
Devon
Allie: How’s it going?
Allie: We want to come visit.
Sadie: Are you doing okay? We miss you.
Allie: Hello?
Bea: We’re coming first thing in the morning.
Allie: Look forward to it.
Rhett
The sound of my gate creaking in the distance interrupts the peaceful quiet of the desert after sunrise. That’s not good. Devon slept on my chest last night, this time skin on skin underneath one of the warm blankets I keep in a chest outside, under the stars.
But if the gate is creaking, that means someone’s here. I shake her shoulders, hating to disturb her peaceful state in such a jarring way. “Devon, we’ve got to move right now.”
“What?” her sleep-hazed voice asks, not opening her eyes. I wish we could stay like this all day.
“Someone’s at the gate.” I wrap my hands around her shoulders, rolling her off me. “We need to get up.”
The gate creaks again, meaning whoever’s here is now locking it back up after driving through. Devon’s eyes pop open. “Who’s there?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not expecting anyone, but we have about ninety seconds until whoever it is gets an eyeful of us like this.”
Devon pops up, and I’m not in too much of a hurry to miss out on enjoying the sight of her, every exquisite detail in the full sunlight, nothing hidden like it was in last night’s darkness. The sight of my jeans flying at my face interrupts my appreciation. She pulls her dress over her head. “Who has a key?”
“Only Bradley, but he’d never be up this early.” I pull on my jeans and find my phone, where I left it on the table. “It’s barely after seven. Who would come this early and not even call?” I look around for my t-shirt. It couldn’t have gone far.
“Someone who owns a coffee shop,” Devon says, groaning in realization. “Sadie still has the key you gave her. I bet they’re all coming.”
“They’re all, who’s—” The sound of gravel crunching on the other side of the hill stops my question. “Get inside, I’ll handle this.” She rushes inside without protest.
I manage to shove the remnants of last night’s uneaten dinner under the lid of the barbeque, and I’ve just tucked my boxers into my pocket when a car I don’t recognize pulls around the hill. It feels like I got caught with my girlfriend in high school. I try running my hands through my hair, but I’m sure it won’t look combed.
The car comes to a stop, and immediately Sadie, Bea, Allie, and Luke come pouring out of the car, followed by three dogs. She really did mean everyone. I finally got my fortress of a woman to let her guard down, got to experience her, feel her unravel, and then her friends showed up and cut it off.
“I hope the dogs are okay,” Allie says, wrangling her little brown puppy, Spaghetti, onto a leash. “We tried asking Devon last night, but she hasn’t been responding to texts or calls.” She scrunches her face at me accusingly.
“Dogs are good,” I say, running my fingers through my hair uselessly again. “Everybody’s welcome.”
“Thanks, Rhett.” Luke shakes my hand that definitely has the lingering scent of Devon’s perfect sex on it. I shove it in my back pocket. “I know they kind of sprung this on you.”
“Even so, would it have killed you to wear a shirt?” Allie asks. Bea says something to her under her breath that has them both giggling as they walk past me, each with a dog on a leash. Betty has wandered over to the pavers and sprawled under the shade of the daybed that still has a crumpled blanket and pillows strewn across it.
Sadie comes over, a canvas bag of food balanced on her hip. She looks up at me under the brim of a straw hat, tucking wild pink hair behind her ear. “Where’s our girl?”
“Still getting ready,” I wave a hand toward the trailer.
“Really? Did she start sleeping in?” she asks.
“Not sure what sleeping in means for Devon.” I shrug. “Most days she’s still in bed when I leave to work on the house.”
Sadie leans around my shoulder, looking at the trailer. “The house?”
“What house?” Allie asks, wrangling her squirming puppy back in my direction.
Bea and her fluffy white dog follow. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that,” she adds.
“The house I’m building.” I tilt my head as the three of them look at me with varying degrees of confusion. The reason Devon’s out here.” Still no recognition. “What did you think you were dropping her out here for?”
“Well, she needed a break,” Allie says, a little defensively, “and she owed you those two weeks, and you—” She snaps her mouth shut instead of finishing her sentence. I can’t help but laugh.
Luke comes up beside her, carrying a cooler. “You didn’t know about the house? What did you drop her here for?”
Allie’s hands prop on her hips, tilting her head back almost comically far to look Luke in the eye. “You knew about the house? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He kisses her forehead, then calmly explains, “I thought you knew. He’s only staying in the trailer while he builds the house.” He looks over to me. “Where can I put this?”
“Anywhere in the shade is good.” I point him toward the patio, accidentally drawing his eyeline across our rumpled bedding. I look to him to for recognition, but he doesn’t react, just walks toward the shade. I’m happy for anyone to know, hell for everyone to know what’s happening with Devon and me. But I doubt she’s ready to admit it to herself, let alone share with her friends. Even if I want to claim her as mine, I know she’s not. Not yet.
I check the windows of the trailer for any sign of how close to coming back outside she is, but the curtains are closed. My eyes land on my t-shirt, discarded between the chairs.
“Finally,” Bea scoffs when she sees me pull it over my head, the sentiment so similar to the way my sisters tease me that I wonder if she has little brothers, too.
“Alright,” Allie claps her hands. “That’s long enough.” As if on cue, the door to the trailer opens and Devon steps out, looking more put together than most people do after getting a full night of sleep in a proper bed. Her hair is styled into her usual waves, and she wears army green shorts and a loose tank with a tie at the center that leave miles of fair skin on display in between.
In the midst of her friends hugging her, scolding her for not answering her phone, asking what she’s been up to, she finds my eyes and offers a conspiratorial smile.
Devon
“Are you two hungry?” Sadie asks, smiling brightly.
The dinner Rhett cooked last night went largely untouched, so we both reply in the affirmative, perhaps a little too eagerly. When he starts to list things he can cook for everyone, she cuts him off, saying, “No, silly. We brought food.”
In a few minutes we’re all squeezed in around the picnic table, drinking individualized coffees Allie brought and eating bagels and mini quiches I’m sure Sadie baked from scratch. Butterflies flutter in my stomach when Rhett leans over to me from the end of the table, where he’s pulled up a teak folding chair. “Hard to be mad at them for showing up unannounced with a spread like this.”
Sadie pipes up from across the table. “It was not unannounced.”
“We sent texts.” Allie points an accusing finger at me. “She didn’t respond. Not our fault.”
“Actually, that is precisely your fault. You dropped me in the middle of nowhere with—” I look toward Rhett, and he’s trying to hide a smirk behind his hand. “Him at a trailer with only one reception rock.”
Bea leans her shoulder against mine from her spot on the bench we’re sharing, tipping thick rose gold sunglasses down her nose. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to enlighten us about what a reception rock is, and why it’s bad to only have one if you want your point to land.”
I gesture toward the three-square feet of reception Rhett’s property has and explain that if I’m not sitting on that rock, I can’t text them. I leave out the part about his Wi-Fi. At some point I decided to give resting a chance, and I’ve left my phone disconnected from it.
Once we’ve all finished eating, Allie wastes no time making everyone mimosas in insulated travel cups. When Sadie points out that no one’s done with their coffees, she rolls her eyes, holding out a cup to her. “And no one’s ever had a mimosa and coffee at the same time.”
Luke mentions something to Rhett about wanting to see the house, and everyone else chimes in with their agreements. A sense of pride that mirrors the look on Rhett’s face bubbles up in my chest. Although, what do I have to be proud about? He’s done nearly all of it himself, and so far, nothing I’ve done has had a chance to be implemented.
It strikes me that I only have a few days left, and it’s a surprising disappointment rather than a relief. I’ve barely gotten started on his house, but more importantly, there is so much more I need to say to him. I’ve been replaying every moment of last night since I was shaken awake this morning. He was right to say that I was being cruel, and I owe him an apology at least. And then the sex. What do I even say to him?
When Bea’s eyes light up as Rhett fills her in on details about the construction, I realize I’m exhilarated for my friends to see how skilled and dedicated he is. Proud that I’m…with him is the wrong term. A friend maybe? That doesn’t seem like enough. I walk over to join the conversation.
“We can ride in the truck bed,” Allie suggests, bouncing on her toes.
Sadie gasps at the idea. “I’ve never done that.”
“You haven’t?” Rhett asks, confusion twisting his features. “How?”
“Just never knew anyone with a truck, I guess,” Sadie shrugs.
“Then I’ll have to make it extra fun.” He smiles at her, and I’m almost shocked she doesn’t melt on the spot. His eyes flash to me for the briefest moment, turning a far more sensual kind of smile at me as he walks past to retrieve blankets to cover the hot metal of the truck bed. He can’t spend all day doing that. Someone will notice. But still, my stomach does a little flip at the attention. And I thought I was in trouble before.
“So, what have you two been up to?” Allie asks with a mischievous glint in her green eyes.
Rhett makes a show of leaning his head closer to hear my response, so I give her a bland answer. “Working on his house.”
Allie scoffs. “That can’t possibly be everything.”
“Maybe later,” I whisper.
“Ooh,” Allie, who doesn’t have a subtle bone in her body, responds even louder than before, “yeah, tell me later.”
Rhett helps Bea and her dog into the truck bed, then Sadie, then holds a hand out for me. “Devon Blake, you’re up.” Last night was the first time he called me by my full name, and somehow between his smirk and the light of day, hearing it again sends a jolt of heat to my core. Once I’m in the truck bed he squeezes my hand before letting go, a tiny intimacy noticeable only to us. Even after everything I said, he doesn’t seem to be upset with me.
Luke lifts up Allie, then Betty, then the squirmy puppy and shuts the tailgate.
“Wait, this is actually fun,” Sadie says, sipping her mimosa and giggling as soon as the truck takes off. We can’t be going more than five or maybe seven miles per hour, but the open air and bumpy dirt road make it a little like an adventure. “Devon!” Sadie exclaims. “I have to tell you about this thing I’m doing now.”
“Oh yeah, this is good,” Allie nods, petting her puppy with soothing strokes.
“So, what’s-his-face didn’t like to let me do fucking anything,” Sadie starts.
“We’re not saying his name anymore,” Bea whispers as Sadie continues.
“He was just the worst.” Sadie scoffs. “Anyway, there are all these things I’ve never done. Some because of him and some just because I lived this very contained life and haven’t had that many interesting experiences. Some are very normal things, like visiting the East Coast or changing my nail shape, but now I’m letting myself explore it all.”
I pull a white spray can of sunscreen from my bag, applying it as she tells her story. “Like riding in the back of a truck?” I ask.
“This wasn’t technically on the list, but I’m adding it.” She giggles. “I’m just trying as many brand-new things as possible.”
It’s a relief to hear her moving on, finding herself without him. She fills me in on the things she’s already tried as well as what’s on her list she’d like help with. We’re talking about training for a half marathon together when Spaghetti squirms out of Allie’s lap and into Sadie’s.
While they’re occupied with managing the puppy, holding her and shushing her, making sure she isn’t tempted to jump over the edge, Bea takes the opportunity to slide along the wall of the truck bed, stopping when we’re shoulder to shoulder. She adjusts her oversized sunglasses. “I saw you in the emails the other day.”
“I may have responded to one or two,” I admit. “But you’re doing an amazing job. I promise I wasn’t checking up on you. It’s just so strange to be disconnected.”
“I’m actually impressed you waited an entire week before checking up on me.” She rubs Dandy’s fur, where she’s lying down with her head propped up on Bea’s thigh. The dog is eight years old, and by the way her and Bea interact, you’d think she’d spent every one of them by her side, instead of just the last week.
My lips pull into a slow smile. “Your plan to force me to rest is actually working.”
“Devon Blake,” she sing-songs my name around a matching smile of her own. “I am so proud of you.”
“Bea Hendrix, you should be.”
Sadie chimes in from across the truck bed. “I didn’t know that was your last name.”
“Sure is.” Bea nods, hiding behind her drink. She passes me a furtive glance that I do my best to ignore, not wanting to draw attention. Her name isn’t actually Bea Hendrix. It’s Bridgette Honeycutt, which I only know from her employment paperwork. She’s never mentioned the difference socially, and I’ve never brought it up, assuming she had a good reason. Still, her caginess now has me curious.
Rhett turns right at the fork in the road, toward the gate instead of toward the house, taking it a little faster than necessary and sending all four of us, plus the three dogs into giggling tumbles against each other.
Allie leans toward the open back window, still laughing. “Hey! You almost spilled my drink.”
“Isn’t that what the lids were for?” Rhett calls back, purposely taking the bumpiest section of the road and causing more bouncing and giggling.
“Here,” Allie passes the tiny curly-brown haired puppy through the window in the back of the truck cab to Luke’s waiting arms. “You take care of her.”
Rhett drives us around areas of his property I’ve never seen before, making it as eventful as a slow ride on a dirt road in the back of a truck can be. Eventually, he turns back around and takes the familiar path to his house.
Sadie’s brows shoot up. “He does have a house.”
“A future house anyway,” Allie says, taking in its current state of construction.
“Ooh,” Bea’s voice swings low, taking in the structure when we finally come around the corner. Her discerning eyes bounce around every detail, and I know she’s imagining how it’ll come together just like I did when I first saw it. “She’s gonna be a beaut.”
“Wait till you see the inside,” I say, and pride blooms in my chest again at the idea of showing off his house. It’s not my work, and I don’t have a right to feel pride in his work, but I feel it just the same.
Rhett leads everyone on a tour, spending more time explaining the things I’ve designed than the work he’s already done, even though we haven’t ordered anything yet. “Devon’s been working on all the selections for the tile, plumbing, wall coverings, flooring.”
At the end of the tour, I push him to show everyone his furniture prototypes in the garage. He is hesitant, but eventually gives in and gets the appropriate amount of ooh’s and aah’s his work deserves. Again, I’m reminded of my words last night, how I managed to turn this beautiful collection into an insult somehow. My stomach turns in an awful knot, but when he draws his hand across my low back as he passes behind me, it settles.
Rhett
It turns out, not only did they bring breakfast, but they packed lunch too. Everyone stays, drinking, eating, telling stories, and playing with the dogs until dinnertime rolls around. The day would have flown by if I wasn’t so desperate to get Devon alone again.
As they’re readying to leave, Allie and her wiggling puppy find me on the far end of the patio, just enough to be out of earshot for everyone else.
“You’re into her.” It’s a statement, not a question. I nod in acknowledgment. “As you should be. She’s brilliant, loyal as fuck, and obviously a total smoke show. But you have to know you’re not the only one. Half the men she meets are trying to get into her pants.” My jaw clenches. I don’t want to think about other men trying to sleep with her. Let alone succeeding. Especially now that I know exactly what that feels like, I can’t imagine giving it up. “Devon’s attracted to competence.”
“Sounds sexy,” I joke.
“Do you want help or not?” The puppy runs circles around Allie, tightening the leash around her legs. Allie continues talking as she unravels and eventually scoops Spaghetti into her arms. “She likes men who have their shit together. Someone she can admire.” I try not to be offended that she seems to be excluding me from that group. She pauses to shush and soothe the puppy. For her part, Spaghetti continues to wriggle. “She even dated one of her professors in college.”
“She did what?”
“He wasn’t that old, but he was way more together than any of the students.” She waves away the statement with a hand, like it was casual information and not a huge revelation to share with me. Before I can pry for more detail, she asks, “What was the reason she said she wouldn’t date you again?”
“She doesn’t date people she works with,” I answer.
“Have you done anything about that yet?”
My face twists in confusion. “How do you suggest I do something about that?”
She plops the puppy back onto the sand and starts to walk away, saying over her shoulder, “If you can’t figure that part out on your own, you don’t deserve her.”
Is she expecting to give up my career to be with Devon? Surely, that’s not what Devon actually wants. Although she has harped on her no dating coworkers rule relentlessly. She also tried to put a caveat on our time together last night saying it was only one night, but I believe her about that even less now than I did then.
After we help her friends load up their car and wave them off, she moves immediately to the daybed, sitting on the end of it in the same place I had her last night. I suspect it’s not a coincidence. Devon’s been a cocktease all day, finding ways to rub against me, give me a glimpse down her shirt, lick her lips. Anything, to make sure I don’t forget what we did last night. How could I?
After a full day of entertaining her friends and having to keep my hands off of her, I’m dying to have her close. But I told her I wouldn’t initiate. If Devon and I are ever truly going to be together, she has to learn to surrender, has to learn that she’s safe when I’m in control. Seeing her lit up by the fire, just like she was last night, I’m tempted to give in. I want to prove to her that one night wasn’t enough, but it’s more important that she figures it out on her own. That she comes to me.
We make it through dinner with casual conversation, no mention of anything that happened last night. Even though they’re her best friends, her social battery has to be drained, so I give her space. We plug in the bistro lights, and she draws in one of her notebooks by their light in the warmth of the campfire while I read my book and try not to think about touching her. I’m unsuccessful, retaining nothing from the pages I read.
She seems completely unaffected until she walks past me when it’s time to head in for bed. She trails a slender finger across my stomach as she walks by. “Night, trailer daddy.”
But when we’re in bed, she doesn’t initiate anything, and I keep my word and my hands to myself.