Page 55 of How Dare You
“I’m actually impressed you waited an entire week before checking up on me.” She rubs Dandy’s fur, where she’s lying down with her head propped up on Bea’s thigh. The dog is eight years old, and by the way her and Bea interact, you’d think she’d spent every one of them by her side, instead of just the last week.
My lips pull into a slow smile. “Your plan to force me to rest is actually working.”
“Devon Blake,” she sing-songs my name around a matching smile of her own. “I am so proud of you.”
“Bea Hendrix, you should be.”
Sadie chimes in from across the truck bed. “I didn’t know that was your last name.”
“Sure is.” Bea nods, hiding behind her drink. She passes me a furtive glance that I do my best to ignore, not wanting to draw attention. Her name isn’t actually Bea Hendrix. It’s Bridgette Honeycutt, which I only know from her employment paperwork. She’s never mentioned the difference socially, and I’ve never brought it up, assuming she had a good reason. Still, her caginess now has me curious.
Rhett turns right at the fork in the road, toward the gate instead of toward the house, taking it a little faster than necessary and sending all four of us, plus the three dogs into giggling tumbles against each other.
Allie leans toward the open back window, still laughing. “Hey! You almost spilled my drink.”
“Isn’t that what the lids were for?” Rhett calls back, purposely taking the bumpiest section of the road and causing more bouncing and giggling.
“Here,” Allie passes the tiny curly-brown haired puppy through the window in the back of the truck cab to Luke’s waiting arms. “You take care of her.”
Rhett drives us around areas of his property I’ve never seen before, making it as eventful as a slow ride on a dirt road in the back of a truck can be. Eventually, he turns back around and takes the familiar path to his house.
Sadie’s brows shoot up. “He does have a house.”
“A future house anyway,” Allie says, taking in its current state of construction.
“Ooh,” Bea’s voice swings low, taking in the structure when we finally come around the corner. Her discerning eyes bounce around every detail, and I know she’s imagining how it’ll come together just like I did when I first saw it. “She’s gonna be a beaut.”
“Wait till you see the inside,” I say, and pride blooms in my chest again at the idea of showing off his house. It’s not my work, and I don’t have a right to feel pride in his work, but I feel it just the same.
Rhett leads everyone on a tour, spending more time explaining the things I’ve designed than the work he’s already done, even though we haven’t ordered anything yet. “Devon’s been working on all the selections for the tile, plumbing, wall coverings, flooring.”
At the end of the tour, I push him to show everyone his furniture prototypes in the garage. He is hesitant, but eventually gives in and gets the appropriate amount of ooh’s and aah’s his work deserves. Again, I’m reminded of my words last night, how I managed to turn this beautiful collection into an insult somehow. My stomach turns in an awful knot, but when he draws his hand across my low back as he passes behind me, it settles.
Rhett
It turns out, not only did they bring breakfast, but they packed lunch too. Everyone stays, drinking, eating, telling stories, and playing with the dogs until dinnertime rolls around. The day would have flown by if I wasn’t so desperate to get Devon alone again.
As they’re readying to leave, Allie and her wiggling puppy find me on the far end of the patio, just enough to be out of earshot for everyone else.
“You’re into her.” It’s a statement, not a question. I nod in acknowledgment. “As you should be. She’s brilliant, loyal as fuck, and obviously a total smoke show. But you have to know you’re not the only one. Half the men she meets are trying to get into her pants.” My jaw clenches. I don’t want to think about other men trying to sleep with her. Let alone succeeding. Especially now that I know exactly what that feels like, I can’t imagine giving it up. “Devon’s attracted to competence.”
“Sounds sexy,” I joke.
“Do you want help or not?” The puppy runs circles around Allie, tightening the leash around her legs. Allie continues talking as she unravels and eventually scoops Spaghetti into her arms. “She likes men who have their shit together. Someone she can admire.” I try not to be offended that she seems to be excluding me from that group. She pauses to shush and soothe the puppy. For her part, Spaghetti continues to wriggle. “She even dated one of her professors in college.”
“She did what?”
“He wasn’t that old, but he was way more together than any of the students.” She waves away the statement with a hand, like it was casual information and not a huge revelation to share with me. Before I can pry for more detail, she asks, “What was the reason she said she wouldn’t date you again?”
“She doesn’t date people she works with,” I answer.
“Have you done anything about that yet?”
My face twists in confusion. “How do you suggest I do something about that?”
She plops the puppy back onto the sand and starts to walk away, saying over her shoulder, “If you can’t figure that part out on your own, you don’t deserve her.”
Is she expecting to give up my career to be with Devon? Surely, that’s not what Devon actually wants. Although she has harped on her no dating coworkers rule relentlessly. She also tried to put a caveat on our time together last night saying it was only one night, but I believe her about that even less now than I did then.