Page 53 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
I didn’t know how to react.
She held my gaze. “Will you give me the rest of the week to think about this? I’ll organize a babysitter for Saturday. We could meet here, talk about the way we see this working. Come up with a plan when we’re both levelheaded.”
The shame I’d tried to bury with indignation came back up with a vengeance. It tasted sour at the back of my throat, burning as I swallowed it back down. I’d wanted a fight, and Piper was showing me what it meant to be better than that.
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, of course.”
“Thank you,” she replied, and it sounded like she meant it. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
The door opened and closed, and I was alone. I sat down heavily on the stairs and dropped my head in my hands. That hadn’t gone the way I wanted, and I knew it was my fault.
TWENTY
PIPER
I hada dress that I secretly thought might have magical powers. It was a knee-length number with a slash neckline that fit me like a glove. The very first time I wore it, I found a twenty-dollar bill on the ground. I’d gotten free coffee in it not once, but twice. I’d worn it to the final court hearing when I was given custody of my boys. It had luck and good fortune stitched right into the fabric. It was a special shade of green that made my blue eyes look almost turquoise, and putting it on felt like wearing armor. I knew I looked good in it, especially with my hair styled in soft waves and a bit of makeup on my face.
That was what I wore to meet Rhett at the Lovers Lane house on Saturday. It was cold out, so I paired it with black tights and tall boots, along with a black wool jacket.
I parked in front of the house behind Rhett’s truck and checked my face in the visor mirror. I dabbed a little tinted lipbalm on my lips and buffed out a crease in the concealer under my eye, even though I knew I was procrastinating the whole time. I looked fine. Perfectly professional, feminine, and confident.
With one more deep breath, I grabbed my big zippered portfolio from the passenger seat and made my way inside.
I found Rhett in the living room on all fours, his torso twisted as he looked up the chimney. When I closed the front door, he sat down on the floor, leaned an arm against a bent knee, and exhaled. “Chimney needs a serious clean.”
“Hello to you, too,” I said. The foyer floor creaked in greeting as I walked across it before leaning against the thick trim that framed the opening to the living room.
Rhett’s eyes drifted up my boots, my dress, my face. I pretended the weight of his gaze didn’t affect me, choosing to look at the chimney in question instead. He rubbed his jaw with a big hand, leaving a streak of soot across his cheek. I approached, and for reasons unknown, my heart began to jump.
We’d mostly avoided each other all week. Well—I didn’t think he was avoiding me, but I was most definitely avoiding him. I’d hide in my office (closet) when he was in his, then breathe a sigh of relief when he’d take off for a site visit. I only used the kitchen when I was sure he wasn’t there, and I parked as far away from his truck as humanly possible. I did not visit Peak Coffee, even though I hadn’t found good coffee anywhere else in town.
Cowardly? Maybe. But I hadn’t been kidding when I said I needed time.
Rhett had money, power, and good looks. I had two dependents, five weeks left on my lease, and a dwindling bank account. Going up against him required some serious preparation.
And I was under no illusions—we were going up against each other here. It might be a partnership, but I suspected that Rhett didn’t do anything without making sure he got his due. So I had to be on guard and ready for him to try to pull a fast one on me. If I was going to make the most of this opportunity, I’d have to be sharp.
That was why I’d prepared a portfolio, in the evenings after the boys were asleep. I held the zippered folder under one arm as I moved into the living room, pretending to be very interested in the chimney that apparently needed to be cleaned.
Rhett got up, and somehow it was still a shock how tall he was. One day I’d get used to standing beside him. Even with the chunky four-inch heels on my boots, I still felt like a little shrimp.
I held my portfolio like a shield between us. “I’ve been thinking about this place,” I announced, “and I have ideas.”
Rhett inclined his head and gestured toward the kitchen. I followed the light flooding into the hallway and entered the kitchen with its worn lemon-wallpaper border and leaky sink. Two coffee cups bearing the Peak Coffee logo waited on the countertop.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“An olive branch.” Rhett grabbed one of the cups and handed it over.
I popped the lid and inhaled the scent of rich coffee. “Americano,” I said, pleased. “How did you know?”
Rhett glanced at the cup, then away. “Violet remembered,” he said. “Here. Got this too.” He nudged a paper bag across the counter, and I opened it up to see the crystalline sugar dotting the top of a blueberry muffin.
That was all it took—a coffee and a blueberry muffin, and all my defenses melted like chocolate in the midday sun. Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried not to let it show how much it meant to me. “Thank you,” I said, tearing off a piece of the muffin top. Delicious.
It was the dress, I told myself. This thing was magical. That wasthreefree coffees, and now a muffin!
Rhett watched me for a long moment, then nodded to the folder I’d left on the kitchen counter beside the muffin. “All your ideas in there?”
