Chapter Three #3
The ceiling fan turned. Cicadas screamed beyond the windows. Titus’s breathing warmed the back of my neck.
He kissed my shoulder.
“Your knees working?” he asked.
“Ask me tomorrow.”
His quiet laugh moved through his chest.
Titus withdrew carefully and reached for the towel. He cleaned me first, gentle despite the roughness of his breathing, then took care of himself.
I turned in his arms and rested my forehead against his sternum.
“That wasn’t a mistake,” I said.
“No.”
“Good.”
He tipped my face up. “You thought I might call it one?”
“I needed to hear you say it.”
“It wasn’t a mistake.”
I kissed him once, softer than before.
We carried our clothes into the bathroom. I washed, used the toilet, and returned in my shirt and underwear while Titus took his turn.
By the time he came back in his jeans and bare feet, I’d poured two glasses of water and found the remaining chips and peaches from lunch.
He took one glass and drank most of it before setting it down.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s fortunate. We have half a bag of chips and two peaches.”
“I’ve had worse dinners.”
“This isn’t dinner.”
Titus looked at the food. “Then we should eat fast.”
I laughed and handed him a peach.
We sat on the kitchen floor with our backs against the island, my jeans and his shirt still waiting in the bathroom. Evening light had softened from gold to rose at the windows. The air-conditioning hummed, and the restored built-in cast a long shadow across the living room.
Titus bit into the peach. “How long until this place is ready?”
“Several weeks if the floors cooperate. Then staging, photographs, and the sale.”
“You doing that yourself too?”
“I’ll hire the parts I’m not qualified to do. I’m not taking my own listing photos with a phone and optimism.”
He ate another bite. “What do you need for the business?”
I turned the water glass slowly. “Time. Enough profit from this sale to keep going. A second property that makes sense instead of one I fall in love with and overpay for.”
“You fall in love with buildings?”
“Some of them.” I nodded toward the tall windows and the original trim. “This one had good bones and terrible decisions.”
“I know the type.”
I nudged his thigh with mine. “Was that a Calhoun joke?”
“It was an observation.”
“Those are still free?”
“For you.”
Warmth spread beneath my breastbone.
“I won’t let Daddy hand me a division of the family company after I finally prove I can do this,” I said. “He can’t fix it for me.”
“What do you want?”
“To build it myself.”
Titus nodded once. “Then do that.”
“You make it seem simple.”
“Simple isn’t the same as easy.”
I met his eyes.
He waited.
“If I ask for help,” I said, “I want it to stay help.”
“It will.”
“No taking over.”
“I heard you the first time.”
“I know.” I rested my head against the island. “That’s why I might ask.”
Titus finished his peach and set the pit on the empty lunch wrapper. “If you want another set of eyes on a property, I can look. If you don’t, I won’t.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yes.”
“Even for a Luttrell?”
“I thought we weren’t inheriting the feud.”
“We aren’t.”
“Then stop trying to give it back.”
I laughed. “You’re finally getting grumpy.”
“I’ve been here all afternoon.”
“You hid him well.”
Titus brushed his thumb along my bare knee. “Come to the ranch tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“You showed me your place. Let me show you mine.”
I smiled. “Is that a date?”
“Yes.”
“What does a ranch date involve?”
“Lunch. A drive around the property while I check the water. Supper, if you stay that long.”
“Am I expected to mend a fence?”
“No.” He almost smiled. “You can open a gate if you’re feeling generous.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“What time can you get away?”
“I have to be at the office in the morning, but I could leave around eleven.”
“Come after that.”
Outside, the light faded beyond the pecan tree. I checked the time on my phone and blinked.
“Eight thirty.”
Titus tipped his head toward the darkening windows. “We should go.”
Neither of us moved immediately.
Then he stood and offered me his hand.
I took it.
We finished dressing, packed the tools against the interior wall, and made one last pass through the rooms. Titus checked that the windows were latched while I turned off the lights and set the thermostat.
At the front door, I locked the dead bolt and tugged it once.
“Trust but verify?” he asked.
“Some slogans have value.”
We crossed the porch together. Summer air wrapped around us, softer than it had been at noon but still thick with the scent of dry grass and old limestone. My SUV waited beneath the pecan tree. His truck stood beside the drive.
Titus stopped between our vehicles. “A little after eleven?”
“I’ll text when I leave.”
He drew me against him and kissed me until tomorrow felt much too far away.
Then we climbed into separate vehicles. At the road, Titus turned toward the ranch while I headed for the guesthouse.
Tomorrow at eleven, I was driving to Calhoun Ranch for a date.
This time, I was leaving Daddy’s office because I wanted to—not because he’d sent me.
And I already knew one afternoon with Titus wouldn’t be nearly enough.