Chapter 20 Audrey
Chapter twenty
Audrey
Icheck my phone three times before I accept the fact I won’t be getting any more sleep. Nothing new there.
Like muscle memory, it begins. The clinking of metal bowls, a bag of flour thudding on the countertop, the oven beeping as it heats up. I fasten my hair back in a clip, roll up the sleeves of my sweatshirt, and pull up a recipe on my phone.
White chocolate macadamia nut cookies with cranberries; one of my favorites. If I ever opened a bakery, I’d have a variety of unique cookies. Opening a bakery is just a daydream of mine, like when people daydream about becoming a popstar or something crazy like that. Maybe in another life.
I beat the sugar and eggs together while fighting off thoughts of his mouth hovering inches from mine.
I find myself subconsciously running my fingers along my lips, as if I could still feel him there.
Last night, when I said goodbye outside Penny’s apartment building, he kissed me again; long and hard, hungry, and wanting.
The kind of kiss I could easily become addicted to.
Shaking my head, I scoop the cookie dough onto the sheets, and quickly the apartment smells sweet and sugary.
Baking eases my mind—or it used to. But after finishing the cookies and packaging them up neatly in containers, I am still restless.
So, I gather more ingredients and make something I’ve never made before. For a dog who isn’t mine. And for reasons I was not ready to dissect.
It would be ridiculous to show up at Rhett’s house with cookies and dog treats a day after our first date…right?
That was borderline stalkerish and downright weird. He didn’t even live nearby, so I couldn’t pretend I was ‘in the neighborhood’.
As I press the bone-shaped cutter into the blueberry dog dough, I decide it was absolutely an unhinged idea.
I attempted to unpack, but the tiny walk-in closet in Penny’s guest room is barely a fraction of what I’m used to. While I’m grateful, it makes unpacking feel pointless. Even my favorite trashy reality shows can’t distract me from my unfolding life.
Right at noon, as if he somehow knows I’m spiraling, my phone lights up with a text from Jackson.
Jackson: Did you see my email yesterday? The attorney drew up all the paperwork for the house, you just need to sign it. By the end of the week, it’ll be in your name.
Audrey: What? I never saw an email. I never asked for the house, Jackson, why would you think I wanted it?
Jackson: You’re welcome? It’s paid for, so you’re coming out on top here, Audrey. I get the apartment; you get the house. I could’ve left you with nothing, remember that.
I have to fight the urge to chuck my phone at the ground as I read the texts, imagining his degrading tone. It makes me nauseous.
Audrey: Just tell me where and when to sign the paperwork.
The little black cloud which was Jackson Tippins was always showing up at the worst moments.
The thing was, I didn’t really want the house a year ago when we bought it.
I thought it was too much, and I still do.
But Jackson always gets his way, and frankly I didn’t have it in me to fight this.
It didn’t fully make sense to me why he insisted I take the house, though nothing he has done lately made sense.
I sit down to open my email after we stop talking, and indeed see a glaring email from him, the attorney cc’d.
It’s a multi-million dollar home that’s now mine.
He’d expect me to move into it, and so would my parents.
But what if I sold it? What if I sold it and moved to New York, as a big fuck you to Jackson?
It could be my small act of rebellion.
But my bigger act of rebellion was the other man blowing up my phone.
Rhett: Hey, I really enjoyed last night. Hope you finally got some sleep.
Instantly, my shoulders relax from where Jackson’s words tensed them.
Audrey: I did, thanks. It was great. Tell Mabel I said hi
Rhett: Maybe you can tell her yourself sometime. I’d love to see you again.
Audrey: Yeah, I’d like that. Let me check my calendar and get back to you.
Wow, could I sound any lamer?
Rhett: Sure thing. Just text me!
Audrey: I actually baked a bunch of cookies. Penny and I won’t eat them. I’ll be in the area. I could drop some off?
Immediately I regret it, but before I can redeem myself, three dots appear.
Rhett: Are you kidding? You’ve made my day. I’ll be busy working, so swing by whenever.
He sends me his address and before I know it, I'm getting ready, and loading up three dozen cookies, and dog biscuits into my car.
First though, I made a pit stop in Forest Hills to check on the progress of the house Jackson insisted be mine.
Walking through the front door, I stopped to talk to the contractor, and as he filled me in on an update, I glazed over; thinking about the months spent picking out finishes and floors, wall colors, and landscaping plans.
It all seems like a blur now, and I can’t believe Jackson and I had spent a week deciding between two shades of beige for a bedroom we’d never even sleep in.
The contractor told me I could take a walk through to see the finished second floor, but I politely declined and walked as fast as I could back to my car. Pushing the thoughts of that foreign life from my head, I drove straight to Roseville.
I keep wondering how truly unhinged this is. I mean, maybe a neighbor would do it, right? But I'm not a neighbor. And I lied when I said I'd be in the area. Forest Hills is nowhere near Roseville.
But before I can convince myself to turn around, I find myself turning down the narrow street that leads to his winding driveway, my stomach turning abruptly with it.
The plan was simple: drop the cookies on the doorstep and go straight back home. It’s nearly dinner time anyway, and I had a bubble bath, and a new bottle of red wine waiting for me. It would be fine.
Carefully walking up the loose front steps, I placed the containers on his worn out door mat and texted him quickly.
Audrey: I left the cookies on the doorstep! The ones in the baggie are for Mabel. Homemade treats.
I think part of me would have made any excuse to see this house again. If only to make sure last night wasn’t an apparition—considering everything about my life the last few weeks has felt surreal.
But it was real, and every warm familiar feeling came rushing back to me as I stood on the porch. Peering into the front window, the house was dark.
“If you’re looking for something to steal, you came to the wrong house!” Rhett's sudden voice sends me flying back, hand clutching my chest as I snap my eyes shut and take a deep breath.
“Holy shit. I didn’t know you were home.” I latch onto the porch railing, as my face grows hot.
Thank god for the porch railing, because I also wasn’t ready to be greeted by a glistening, shirtless man with a toolbelt low on his hips. Rhett squints at me as I frantically search for something to say.
He slowly and painfully drags his eyes over me. I swallow, fanning myself for a moment.
“I’ve been working all day in my shop.” He nods towards the two-story garage behind the house.
It never occurred to me he could be working from home. Rhett proceeds to reach into his back pocket, pulling his buzzing phone out. “Just got your text.” He smiles, reading it quickly as I bite my lip, trying not to stare at the artistic ink splattered across his chest.
“You made my dog treats?” His brows knit together.
“Yeah, I had leftover ingredients, so it was simple.” I shrug, running my palms down the sides of my hips, as Rhett steps closer, closing the distance between us on the porch.
“You are the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” he says slowly, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow.
“Oh, certainly not.” I choke, taking a step back. I’ve been called smart, demure, composed, and pretty, but never interesting. It throws me for a loop. “Well, I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you!” I hike my thumb over my shoulder towards my car.
“I’m actually just finishing up in the workshop.” He pauses, placing his left arm on the railing, boxing me in. For the second time in twenty-four hours. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
My brain goes blank because nothing about being in this man's presence makes me act normal. I was fine yesterday until the kiss. Until I fully accepted that it had not been a ‘friend date’.
There’s no simple explanation. Rhett simply unravels me.
“Full disclosure…I didn’t cook it.” Rhett bites his lip, shifting his feet. “My mom dropped it off this morning and I’m only a tiny bit ashamed to admit that.”
“That’s so nice of you, but I don’t want to impose.”
“Darlin’, it’s me and the dog…it would be nice to have a person to talk to over dinner.”
I couldn’t find a reason to say no. It was dinner with Rhett or returning to an unpacked apartment bedroom. He wins again.
“Okay, thank you. I’d love to stay.”
Rhett leans forward, kissing me on the temple, which is somehow even more intimate than a kiss on the lips. “I have to clean up in the shop and rinse really quick, but I won’t be long. Make yourself at home. Cups are above the microwave, and the fridge is full of…well, beer and sweet tea.”
“Go, I'll be fine. Seriously. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” I attempt a joke, my stomach still fluttering.
His lips twitch like he’s going to say something, but he obliges and skips down the steps towards his garage.
I walk through the front door into the quiet house and go straight to the kitchen.
Looking around, I try to distract myself, but as I glance out the kitchen window, I see Rhett carrying a large stack of lumber over his shoulder, making it look easy, and my core clenches in unspeakable ways.
My god, was that all it took for me to turn into a horny puddle? A man doing manual labor?
Quickly, I peel myself away.
Rhett told me to make myself at home, so I do just that.
Well, to the best of my abilities. Because usually when people say that they mean have a seat, take your coat off, have a glass of water.
But I had a feeling Rhett actually meant it.
I didn’t know him very well—yet—but he’d struck me as a person who’d give you the shirt off their back.
I hadn’t known many people like him. Or maybe, none at all.
I peek in the fridge and chuckled because he wasn’t lying.
There’s a twelve-pack of beer, a pitcher of tea, the makings for a sandwich, and some questionable containers.
Plus, one large casserole dish with a smiley face note stuck to it; from his mom, I’m sure.
No wonder his eyes lit up when I brought him cookies.
I pour myself a tall glass of water and head back outside, settling onto the wooden porch swing with my legs tucked beneath me.
The yard is cast with a warm orange glow, the beginning of the summer evening.
Sounds of frogs and buzzing cicadas welcome me, and of course, the panting of a dog whose loyalty I won over without even trying.
“Come here, girl,” I whisper to her.
Mabel slowly gets herself up, trudging over to me with those dopey eyes and ears that flop in the breeze.
While I scratch her ears, my phone dings and I pull it out to see a new email.
I open it to be greeted by a picture of a new apartment available in NYC in my neighborhood of choice.
I scroll through the photos. It’s not bad; it has the pre-war architectural details I love, but the view is gray buildings and city lights.
Mabel nudges my hand, insisting I keep petting her. Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I scratch her neck, my eyes drifting across the sprawling front yard.
I wish the city had views like this.
“Want a treat?” I tease, remembering I had one of the homemade biscuits in my pocket, hoping maybe she’d be around when I got here.
Mabel lets out a howl, startling me. “Shh! You’re going to get me in trouble!
” I hiss at her through a smile. I pull a treat from my pocket and break it in half, holding it up to see if she knows ‘sit’ and ‘paw’.
She slaps her big paw hard in my palm, demanding I give her the homemade treat.
I drop it in her mouth, and she swallows it whole, staring at me expectantly for another one.
“Good girl!” I coo, cupping her face in my hands.
“You know you’re creating a monster. She’s going to fall in love with you, might even try to follow you home,” Rhett teases from the ajar front door, where he stands with a beer loosely dangling from his fingers. I hadn’t even heard him come out.
I was still leaning down towards his dog when I glanced up. His hair is wet and messy, his skin bronzed and glowing under a white t-shirt, which makes his blue eyes shine.
“I can think of worse things,” I add, forgetting what we were even talking about. All I see is him.
“Ready to eat? I have it heating up in the oven now.”
“Yes!” I push myself off the porch swing, taking one more glance at the beautiful front yard. “It’s so peaceful out here. It reminds me of the summer camp my parents would ship me off to in upstate New York. Minus the drama that only teenage girls can manifest.”
Rhett chuckles, holding the door open for me.
“I think that’s a compliment.” I walk past him, smelling his pine body soap.
“I can’t relate, though. I spent my summers collecting eggs from the coop on my Pawpaw’s farm and sneaking cigarettes behind the barn with my cousins.
My summer smelled like barn animals.” He laughs, following me down the short hallway into the kitchen.
“Oh, we snuck our fair share of cigarettes. I was a very wild teenager,” I reply, turning over my shoulder to raise my eyebrows at him. “Hence the mandatory summer camps, so my mother didn’t have to track me down.”
“So, you have a wild streak in you?” Rhett rakes his eyes down my body, making me blush.
“I used to.”
Rhett brings the bottle of the beer up to his lips, pausing as his eyes hold mine. “You sure about that? I bet there’s still something wild in there.”
He tips the bottle back, and I watch the column of his throat shift as he swallows the amber liquid. Sucking my bottom lip in, I’m grateful for Mabel who pushes herself between Rhett and I.
But the little distraction doesn’t eradicate the way it feels to have Rhett's eyes on me.
With one glance, he lights me on fire, making me feel more alive, and more aware of the air around me than I’d felt in a lifetime.