Page 60 of Four Dates and A Forever
A trait that, had she used it during her divorce, might have saved her the Greenhill house—and her pride. Axel had taken a lot from her, things that she was slowly coming to understand. The house was the tip of the iceberg.
Carla was right. She did need to move on—be open to some fun.
She could hear Rhett and Stan talking about speaker installation and rolled her eyes. He’d talk until Stan was ready to leave, it was in his nature.
Elsie picked up the paint roller and began painting over Big Pete’s Igloo Frost walls. She didn’t know why she was so ticked. If Rhett hadn’t shown up, she likely wouldn’t have gotten the sign off. But maybe that’s what irked her. That she hadn’t been able to get it done. This was her project, her house—at least until a few hours ago—and she couldn’t even convince the city inspector that the perfectly executed plumbing was up to snuff.
After a long moment she realized that someone was staring at her back. She didn’t turn to meet his gaze.
“Thanks,” was all she said, but even to her ears she sounded defensive.
“The guy was an ass,” he said, directly behind her. So close she could feel his breath skate down her neck. Then his hands rested on her shoulders and he began to massage away the stress from the day. Mindlessly, she melted under his touch.
“I didn’t have everything buttoned up like I should have.”
“He was an ass,” he repeated.
“He was right. I should have thought to have Big Pete here since I knew the inspector was coming and might have questions. Is it true?” she asked casually, proud that her voice didn’t betray her. To prove she was holding strong, she bent over and rolled the roller in the deep blue paint, a color that was more Rhett than the original color she’d chosen. “Did escrow close?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Her chin dropped to her chest. It was official. The house was no longer hers. Yes, she’d get to finish it, and wasn’t that what she’d wanted? Suddenly, it didn’t feel like enough.
“I know this isn’t what you imagined and I’m sorry for the role I played.”
She lifted a very tired shoulder and let it fall. “I was outmanned and outmaneuvered. With Axel’s legal team, my divorce was like David versus Goliath.” She turned to face him. “None of that is your fault. And if the house had to go to anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
And she meant it. More than even Grandma Harriet, Rhett knew what this house represented to her. He might not keep it the exact way she designed it, but he’d respect and appreciate the finished product.
He stood there silently regarding her, absorbing her words. “Els—”
Swallowing past the pity party, she waved him off with a big, fat smile on her face. “It’s not your fault, Rhett. Plus, we should be celebrating. You’re the official owner of your dream home. Or at least your new home.”
“This is actually my first home.”
“Ever?”
He shrugged. “I lived on the road so a house of my own seemed a waste, so I’d stay with one of my brothers when I came to town. Then there was Steph, who made every decision down to the color of stain on the garage door. So they’d never felt like mine.”
He’d never had a chosen home of his own and he’d chosen hers. Warmth washed through her. “Why this house, then?”
“At first, I told myself it was nothing more than a convenient solution to a pressing problem. I needed to establish residency, Axel told me about the house, which has a recording studio and privacy; it was an easy yes. But now, looking around, being in the space, I think I bought it because it reminded me of a time when things were simpler, happier. A time when I loved my music and my job.”
“You’d only ever been here a handful of times. And every time, the house was under major renovations.”
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It made a lasting impression.”
Gone was the guy who’d been letting her avoid him and back was the confident, irresistible guy from the other night.
“I know the feeling,” she admitted quietly.
He took the roller out of her hand and placed it on the paint tray sitting on the tarp directly behind them, then cupped her hips. His eyes were open and locked on hers even as he got closer and closer, her heartbeat beating faster and faster, bordering on stroke levels. The sexual awareness burned hot enough to melt the icecaps.
He descended, his speed was slow but steady and then there he was, their lips a breath away. “What are you feeling now, Red?”
She grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Safe.” Tugged the shirt from his shorts. “Sexy.” She slid her hands higher, her fingers exploring the soft skin and hard muscle beneath the cotton. “Combustible.”
His nostrils flared and, gaze never wavering, his mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn’t a tentative kiss. It was hot and heady and languid all at the same time. It didn’t take her long to catch up to speed, wrapping her arms around his neck and plastering herself to him like a koala on a tree.
