Page 34 of How Dare You
Chapter 15
Day Three
Coffee's hot -Devon
-Note on the whiteboard by the front door, August 23rd
Rhett
She thinks she woke up first again today, but she’s wrong again because she’s continuing to wreck me every night with her smooth body wrapped around mine. I’m sleeping like shit, too terrified to move and lose her touch. I pretend I’m asleep for a second time as she carefully rolls herself off of my chest and I listen as she takes off my shirt, which she’s slept in every night, and gets dressed in what I imagine are tight fitting workout clothes.
As soon as the door closes, I’m up, making the bed, taking a shower and starting on breakfast. How long will she run for? I find myself nervous, which is how I imagine she makes most people feel but is extremely rare for me.
Chorizo sizzles in the hot pan. Does she even like breakfast tacos?
She appears on the horizon and goes straight to the shower without stopping inside. I’m impatient to see her and I slice up oranges, apples, and strawberries—way more food than we need—to pass the time. Having her here has been pure temptation. I see the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I feel how perfectly her body fits against mine every night when she sleeps. She’ll barely talk to me, but I’m hoping I know exactly what it’ll take to draw her out.
When she walks in through the door wearing nothing but a towel, I drop a spatula full of eggs directly onto the counter. She looks just like she did that first night, wet hair framing her sharp features, water dripping down her neck and spilling over the curvature of her defined collarbones. This time the rivulets disappear into the white terrycloth fabric wrapped around her chest, but the image of her perfect breasts with their pointed pink nipples comes to mind immediately.
Instead of scolding me for looking, she smirks. “You’re tall. You should have longer towels than this.”
She’s right. Both of my older sisters are about her height, and they always complain about how short standard towels are. I should have known better, but at this moment, with it barely covering her ass, I have no regrets.
Devon may be a rule follower, but she’s no prude. Her hands hang freely at her sides, making no effort to tug on the edges or cover herself further. Pulling my eyes away from her is an effort, but I manage to get back to assembling our breakfast.
“Taking the day off?” she asks.
“No, ma’am.” I give her my best smile. “Just wanted to share breakfast with you before we got started.”
“We?” she asks, anger I don’t understand tightening her face. “I don’t think Trina would appreciate you bringing me to Shephard with you.”
Shephard? Trina? “What are you talking about?”
She scoffs, “I know how Trina works. I’m sure she has you on a tight timeline over at Shephard, and she’s expecting you out there to get work done today.”
Is that what she thinks I’ve been working on? “You’re making a lot of assumptions.”
“Am I?” she challenges.
“You are,” I answer. “You’re assuming I’ve been working on Trina’s project this week, that she determines my schedule, that I would make a commitment and not follow through. But worst of all, you’re assuming I’d rather be on a jobsite working for Trina Boatswain when I could be here having breakfast with you.” When she doesn’t respond, I turn away from plating to look at her again. Her brows are pulled together, lips pursed, confused. “You have to know I enjoy your company.”
She’s quick to respond, “I enjoy Sadie’s company.” An unwelcome twinge of disappointment hits me at the distinction. “But I don’t blow off work to have breakfast with her.”
“Maybe you should.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your ‘do the wrong thing’ narrative is getting old.”
Breakfast is ready. I should offer her a plate while it’s hot, but this is the longest conversation we’ve had since she got here. Keeping her standing here is one thing, but the distance across the trailer to the L-shaped sofa with the table folded down from the wall, feels like much farther than she’d be willing to travel with me right now. This thirty-foot airstream has never felt so large. “Interesting that you take my suggestion to make your friendship with Sadie a priority over work occasionally as the obvious wrong thing.”
“That’s not what you said, and it’s not what I said.” She steps closer to me. “Your summarizing skills need work.”
Picking up both plates, I ask, “Why don’t you get dressed, and we can talk about it over breakfast?”
She eyes the plates, then stares at me for a long moment, considering. “Fine. That smells good.”
The amount of pride that builds in my chest at her minor praise is damn near shameful. I set our breakfast up on the folded-out table and do my best to stare at my tacos, even though in my periphery, I can see her changing. After a couple minutes, she joins me at the table wearing the most casual outfit I’ve ever seen her in. A loose-fitting, white, Turbine Café t-shirt stops just before the waist of cotton, dark gray sweatpants material shorts. Sweatshorts? She passes me the coffee mug I forgot in the kitchen.
My nerves keep me from bringing up the house. “What are your plans today?”