Page 3 of Rhett & Moses
“You remember,” she said, looking pleased. “And here I thought I was just another face from your sordid past.”
I winced slightly at her choice of words, but kept my smile firmly in place as I prepared her drink. “You could never be just another face, Nessa.”
She accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. “So, how does it feel to be back in the lion’s den?” She quipped. “Nervous about seeing people?”
I arched an eyebrow. “That obvious, huh?”
“Only to those of us who know what to look for,” she replied, taking a sip. “You’ve been watching the door like you’re expecting either salvation or damnation to walk through it at any moment.”
I busied myself with wiping down the already clean bar top. “Just waiting for the reunion committee to arrive with setup instructions for Friday and the rest of the weekend.”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, disbelievingly. “Nothing to do with a certain someone who just flew in from Boston this morning?”
My hand stilled. “He’s here already?”
Vanessa’s expression turned triumphant. “I knew it. Twenty years and you’re still hung up on Rhett Callahan.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. Despite Bronwyn’s assurances that people knew about my sexuality, old habits died hard. “And I’m not ‘hung up’ on anyone. I’m just prepared for awkward encounters.”
“Right,” she drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Well, prepare yourself sooner rather than later. He’s staying at the Mill Creek Inn, and I happen to know he was planning to swing by here this afternoon.”
My stomach performed a complicated gymnastics routine. “Thanks for the heads-up,” I managed.
Vanessa leaned forward, her expression softening. “Moses, can I give you some advice? As a friend?”
“Do I have a choice?” I roll my eyes at her.
She ignored my sarcasm. “Whatever happened between you two, whatever led to that night with the statue, I know it wasn’t what everyone thinks. I’ve always known that.”
I froze, unable to meet her eyes. Nobody in Gomillion knew the full truth of what had happened that night. Nobody except me and the mayor’s son, Soren Hayes. He had blackmailed me into taking the fall for his drunken vandalism.
“Nessa—"
“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted gently. “Not to me. But maybe to him. He deserves to know why you let him believe you betrayed him.”
Before I could respond, the door swung open, and a fresh wave of alumni poured in, momentarily drawing my attention. When I looked back, Vanessa was watching me with an expression of mingled sympathy and expectation.
“Just think about it,” she said, sliding off her stool. “And I’ll take another one of those excellent gin and tonics when you get a chance.”
As she melted into the crowd to greet other classmates, I tried to regain my composure. She was right, of course. Rhett deserved to know the truth. He deserved it all those years ago, too. But the truth came with risks I hadn’t been willing to take then. Was I ready to take them now?
I didn’t have long to ponder the question. The next time the door opened, my world stopped spinning.
Rhett Callahan stood in the entrance, the late afternoon sunlight haloing his tall figure. He’d aged like fine whiskey. His boyish good looks had matured into something more refined, more devastating. His dark hair was shorter than he’d worn it in high school, with distinguished touches of silver at the temples. He was dressed simply in a blue button-down that made his eyes pop even with those sexy dark rimmed glasses om from across the room. Don’t get me even started on those jeans that hugged his athletic frame.
His eyes found mine immediately, as if drawn by some magnetic force. Twenty years fell away in an instant, and I was instantly eighteen again, heart thundering in my chest as the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen smiled at me across a crowded room.
Except he wasn’t smiling now. His expression was guarded, assessing, as he made his way toward the bar. The crowd seemed to part for him instinctively, or maybe that was just my perception. Rhett had always commanded attention without trying.
He slid onto a barstool directly in front of me, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. I forced myself to exhale slowly, grateful for the bar between us, both as a physical barrier and as something to ground me in the present.
“Hello, Moses,” he said, his voice deeper than I remembered but still achingly familiar. “It’s been a while.”
I swallowed hard, willing my racing heart to calm. “Twenty years,” I agreed, proud that my voice remained steady. “Can I get you a drink?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up, not quite a smile, but close enough to send a flutter through my stomach. “I hear you’re the gin expert these days. Surprise me.”
Our fingers brushed as I placed a cocktail napkin in front of him, and the brief contact sent electricity shooting up my arm. I turned quickly to my gin collection, using the moment to compose myself. This was ridiculous. I was a grown man, a successful business owner, not some lovesick teenager.
