Page 63 of Forty and Fighting Dirty
“Damn cat was faking it,” Rhett said, crossing the space toward the kitchen. The cat followed, and I wasn’t far behind.
“What?”
“Nothing wrong with him at all. Drink? I’ve got wine, beer, water, and a few cans of orange soda.”
“Water’s fine. Thank you.” It was still early, and I’d have to pick the boys up from school in a couple of hours.
He nodded, ignoring the cat slinking between his feet even as he was careful not to step on any paws or swishing tails. Rhettfilled a glass of water, then opened the pantry and grabbed a bag of cat treats. The cat sat back on his haunches and followed the movement of the treat bag with great interest.
My attention, however, was caught by something else. I ignored the glass of water on the countertop and crossed the space to get a closer look at the pantry, and my heart did sixteen cartwheels in a row.
“Rhett,” I said, and I pointed.
He stood up as the cat happily munched his treat and followed the direction of my finger. “What’s up?”
“You have a whole shelf of hot mango chutney here!”
Confusion and something else flitted across his face. Embarrassment? “I know I poached the last one at the market that time—take a couple jars home with you. I was… I don’t know. Sometimes you drive me insane, Darling. I can’t think straight when you’re around.” He ducked down and scratched the cat behind the ears, and I suspected it was so he could avoid my gaze.
I stood there, gripping the pantry doorframe, feeling the world shift under my feet. “You really do buy a jar every week,” I said with wonder, staring at the masses of jars lined up on the shelf. “Do you even like it?”
“It’s delicious,” Rhett said, “but a man can only eat so much hot mango chutney. I just…” He blew out a breath. “Florence was taking care of her mother, who was starting to show signs of dementia. They couldn’t afford to put her in a care home, and Florence was trying to make ends meet. She started that stall at the market, and she’d put the last bit of her savings into all the jars and labels and the stall rental fee. I started buying a jar whenever I went to the market because I could see how much it meant to her. And then her face would brighten every time I walked by, so I felt like I had to keep buying them, and somehow it snowballed into every single week. Now she saves one for me, and I don’t have the heart to let her down. It’s only a couple bucks, and I know it makes her day.”
He still wouldn’t meet my gaze, and a flush had grown over his cheekbones.
I stood there, both feet on his kitchen floor, and I tumbled and fell right into love with him.
It wasn’t a mask. He wasn’t pretending to be the town benefactor. He really did care. Maybe Rhett didn’t realize it himself—he thought he was just hiding from his past. But no one adopted a cat and filled their pantry with chutney just to fake their way into a good reputation.
He’d driven me to the hospital. He’d given me half a house without a fight. He’d put up the money for the renovations. He’d supported my ideas on the house and, after a short struggle, at the lodge.
He was thoughtful and supportive andgood. So damn good it almost defied belief. He’d come from a broken home and built himself into a better man, rising above all that struggle to truly become the best man in town. He had a heart of pure, twenty-four-carat gold.
And when he glanced at me, expression guarded, I wondered if he would believe me if I told him.
No words came to me. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was cross the space between us, lift my hands to cup his cheeks, and pull him down for a kiss. He came with no resistance, his hands resting on my waist before sliding around to hold me tight to hischest. He shuddered, deepened the kiss, and I was carried off by the current of my emotions. I felt safe and cherished and alive. I felt like I’d found someone special—that all my prejudices and judgments had been unfair.
Maybe there were good men out there. Maybe Rhett was one of them—and maybe he felt the same way I did.
“Piper,” he mumbled, fingers digging into the space on either side of my spine. “Piper, we have to stop.” Even as he said it, he drew me closer.
“Why?” I kissed his jaw, tangling my fingers into the hair at the base of his neck.
“I want you too much.” His lips traced the pulse at the side of my neck, his body curled around mine as he turned and guided me back toward the kitchen cabinets.
“That doesn’t seem like a good reason to stop,” I said, pulling him down for another kiss. He groaned into my mouth, hands slipping under my shirt to stroke the bare skin of my sides. He ran his big, hot palms up my waist and over my ribs, his hands bracketing my body and holding me where he wanted me.
I shivered at the touch. It was the first time in years someone had touched my skin there. Heat swept through me, and I realized what Rhett had meant just now. We should’ve stopped earlier, because now it was too late. I wanted his hands on my body everywhere. I wanted his lips on me. I wanted it all.
My own hands went exploring, untucking Rhett’s shirt and undershirt to stroke over the hard pack of muscles beneath. Hair rasped under my fingertips as I ran my hands up his stomach and chest, my whole body trembling at the sensation.
“Off,” I said, pushing at the fabric.
His grin was wolfish. “So demanding,” he murmured, but he wasted no time in shedding the garments. Then Rhett Baldwin stood before me bare-chested, and the last of my wits left me.
He was solid and strong, his muscles visible under the golden hue of his skin. Broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist, with the faint outline of abdominal muscles shifting as I traced them with my fingertips. He held my hips, keeping me pinned against the countertop while I explored his body with my trembling hands.
It had been a long time since I’d been with a man other than Jacob. Nervousness fluttered in my belly, and a part of me wondered if I was making a mistake. Rhett was my boss and my business partner, after all. We’d only started getting along recently. He could run me out of town if he changed his mind about me.
