Page 39 of The Sun Will Rise
I slide my foot into the larger brown boot while Talia unboxes the new red boots. They’re gorgeous—a little darker than the last ones, with cream threads swirling through cushioned panels on the shaft.
“This is a lot more comfortable,” I say, wriggling my foot inside the boot. It’s still snug, but my toes have more space to move, and my foot feels like it’s being held securely, rather than clenched in a vice grip.
“They look great with that shirt,” Talia says as I take a few paces back and forth. I grin. The shirt is a sleeveless linen blouse, off-white with birds stitched in gold thread on the oversized collar. It was ajust becausepresent from Paloma, who said she saw it in a vintage shop and thought of me.
I make a mental note to text her and check in later. Messages have flown back and forth in our group chat, as usual, but I feel as though Lo and I have been missing each other more often than not lately.
“Try the red ones, too,” Ev urges. “Try ‘em with that dress, baby girl.” He points at a dress so far out of my comfort zone it’s not even on my radar anymore. It’s a white babydoll dress with roses the colourof the boots all over it. It looks low cut at the front, short enough to show everything I haven’t got, and the sleeves are long and billowy, forming a loose cuff at the wrist.
“Oh, yeah!” Talia exclaims. She pops up from where she’s been inspecting the fit of my boots, and grabs the dress in two different sizes. She holds them out in front of me, eyes narrowed in scrutiny, before putting one back.
“Here,” she says, pushing the dress and boots into my arms and urging me to a curtained cubicle. “Try it.”
I’m skeptical, but I pull the curtain closed and slip into the dress and boots. Both are a perfect fit, and as I twist and turn in front of the mirror, inspecting myself from every angle, I realise I’ve never felt as pretty, or as confident, as I do in this dress. The dress Everett chose, the one he knew would be perfect for me. I return it carefully to its hanger and change back into my regular clothes, then fling the curtain open with the boots under one arm and the dress on its hanger, handling from the other hand.
“I’ll take them both,” I announce happily.
“What about the other boots, baby girl?” Everett asks.
“I like them. I deserve nice boots.”
“You deserve the world, baby girl,” he whispers, sliding closer and dipping his face to my ear. He has the boots already boxed up, tucked under his arm. It’s then that I realise the box is wrapped with ribbon, and the receipt is tucked beneath the bow. He’s already bought them for me.
Katy was right when she saidif he wanted to, he would. She was talking about an asshole ex-boyfriend, but Everett Tanner proves the point all the same.
Chapter twenty
Ruth
When I wake thefollowing morning, the other side of the bed is empty. There’s a note on top of my phone, and the coffee machine in the kitchen is prepared and ready to brew at the press of a single button.
I take my time to get ready, choosing my comfiest denim shorts and a T-shirt borrowed from Amie. It’s white, with a red horseshoe printed on the chest, cropped just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistband of my shorts, and it matches my new boots perfectly.
With one final slick of mascara on my lashes, I nod at my reflection in the mirror, drink down the last of my coffee, and gather my phone and the key to Everett’s truck. He left it on the kitchen counter for me, with instructions to use it if I need it.
I don’t need to, though. I can hear the braying of cattle in the nearby paddock, and the telltale clatter of tools that gets louder as I walk says someone is nearby. Brooks’s booming laugh carries on the breeze, mingling with the dark velvet of Everett’s chuckle as I finally spot them.
The contents of a toolbox are spread out around them, and Brooks is concentrating hard, fiddling with what looks like delicately-woven pipework. Everett looks up as I get closer, and even from several feet away, I can see the desire darken his eyes.
“Well, aren’t you just the prettiest fucking thing in a pair of boots,” he murmurs as I approach. The tall, red leather has put a pep in my step and my walk is more of a saunter. There’s a swing in my hips that wasn’t there before. I smirk, slowing my pace and strutting like a damn peacock.
Who are you and what have you done with Ruth Bevan?
His gaze roves up and down my body, heating my skin, and warmth pools between my thighs as he bites his lower lip. Fuck, that’s hot.
The longer I’m here, the more time Everett and I spend together—whether it’s innocently sharing a bed, or simply talking—the more I want him desperately. I want his mind and his heart, and I want everything else, too. He’s awakened feelings in me I haven’t had for a long time.
And the way he’s looking at me right now, I don’t think I’m the only one who wants this.
I spend about an hour in the sun with Ev and Brooks. Brooks manages to fix the irrigation system he was playing with, and then we seek shade under a tree and just talk for a while. I finally get to hear a different perspective on some of the childhood adventures Everett shared with me, and when I leave them to return to the cabin, it’s with a gentle pink flush from the sun, and sneaking suspicion that Brooks has a big old crush on Everett’s sister, Ashton.
TheFearlessalbum is a tried-and-true favourite, and I play it from my phone as I sit at the kitchen counter. A recent morning with Maisy had me digging out my scrapbook collection, and I brought a bunch of supplies with me. I want to document this chapter of my life, becauseno matter how it turns out, I know for certain I’m going to emerge a better version of myself.
I’m still cutting and sticking when Everett returns a couple of hours later. He leans in for a quick kiss before excusing himself to change, and I follow him like an obedient puppy. We’re barely through the bedroom door before he whirls around, closing the distance between us in a single stride, and captures my lips in the most punishing, intense kiss I think I’ve ever experienced.
“Fuck, Ruth,” he whispers. We break the kiss for air before his lips find mine again, and a whimper catches in the back of his throat as I suck his lower lip into my mouth. His hands tug at the lower hem of my T-shirt, and I pull back, allowing him the space to lift it over my head.
He reaches behind his head and tears off his T-shirt andfuck, that’s just about the sexiest thing a man can do. His chest bears a light sprinkle of soft, dark hair, skin bright and golden from working outdoors in the sun. He’s the kind of man they build statues of. His thick fingers work at the clasp of my bra and I shrug out of it, flinging it to the floor.
