“Whoa! What in the hell are you doing in here?” His lively laugh echoes through my living room when he looks at the dozen paint samples slathered on the wall.

“I’ve been trying to decide on colors. I only want to paint each room once…well, at least for awhile.”

Motioning toward the mess of paint on the wall. “I take it you’re having problems choosing a color for in here?”

“No, this room will stay beige. It’s the other rooms giving me hell.” Pointing at the first of three greens, I look over my shoulder at him. “One of these three will be the dining room.” I glance back at the paint swipes on the wall. “And one of these reds will be the kitchen.” When I feel him approach me, I turn back to face him; I’m surprised to find him so close.

One thick finger points at the four shades of blue. “These?”

“Bathroom,” I answer as I watch his eyes shift from one swatch to another. When I see his facial expression, I know what he’s thinking. “I like color and I don’t want to live in a white tomb.” I’m expecting some smart-ass comment or something. “Life is far too short to live it dull.”

“This would be perfect for the bathroom. It’s not too dark, since it’s a small space.” Sliding his finger over to the reds. “I’d choose one of these two—either one will work.”

I’m a little shocked. “What about the greens?” And, he says nothing. “What?” Still nothing. “Rhett, what the hell? No opinion?”

He laughed as he confessed. “Does different shades of snot really make you want to eat, Skye?”

Slapping my backhand against his chest, I look over the greens again. “They don’t look like snot!”

“Yeah, they do.”

“If your snot looks like this you may as well consider yourself toxic!”

“Just like these colors.”

That comment earns him another slap.

“Do you really want to paint your dining room green? Snot green?”

Now, since he said it…not really, because thanks to him, all I see is snot. Ugh. Sighing, I’m willing to admit defeat. “No, no, I don’t. Green is definitely out, I guess.” Sighing, I let myself fall onto the loveseat. Instead of sitting on the chair or couch, Rhett stretches out directly at my side. “Hi,” I say when he’s only inches from my face.

That smile, though. “Hi, Beautiful.” The way the words slip from his lips without a second thought makes my heart beat speed up. I can hear the carefree side of Rhett that I’m so drawn to every time he laughs. The kind of man I could see in my life long term. A man somewhat similar to the way my father was. “I should’ve called you and I’m deeply sorry that I didn’t—”

“It’s okay—”

“No, no it’s not.” He turns toward me, and he still looks larger than life curled up on my love seat. Matching his position, our faces are just inches apart, but our eyes are boring into each other like I don’t recall ever doing before. Not like this. “It’s my brother. I had to take him to a treatment facility in Pasadena.” I see him struggling with the confession, but I just wait for him to tell me what he wants to, when he is ready. “Alcohol. Years and years of alcohol.”

“I’m glad he’s getting help.”

His sharp almost cold laugh hits me. “This is the fourth time he’s been in rehab. I just keep hoping that each time will be the last time. This time it’s gonna stick, ya know?”

I nod, reach over, and take his hand in my own. Honestly? I have no idea what to say. I have nothing that would make this any better, so I just let him know that I’m here for him. Knowing that he didn’t call because he was dealing with such shit, I feel guilty for the piss poor attitude I’d flung at him most of the night. This is all so new; I’m lost and more than a little confused. I haven’t been interested—really interested in a man in such a long time.

We spend the next few hours talking. Yeah, talking. He tells me everything about Ryan and how they are all each other has left. My mother is alive, but I can still relate. She’d gone on with her life after my father died and rarely looked back and certainly not at me. Of course, I have Rain, and quite honestly, she feels like all I have left of my once happy family. I wish we were closer though.

When I think Rhett can’t get any better, somehow I end up in his arms. There’s just something when a man has his arms around you and pulls your body against his. I feel fragile; I feel delicate in his embrace, and I know I’m neither. It’s a feeling I didn’t know I craved until his strong arms press me tightly against his chest.

Some time in the early morning, a pain sending stabbing jolts runs through my neck, the effects of sleeping at an odd angle on the love seat. Planning on waking Rhett up, he surprises me by mumbling in my ear. “Where are you goin’?”

“My neck is killing me.” The next words outta my mouth surprise even me. “Wanna move to the bed?” He says nothing but releases the death grip he’s had on me for the last couple of hours. Getting up, he helps me to my feet, and then proceeds to lead me down my own hallway, to my own bedroom. I almost tell him which door when I remember he’s the one who helped Nate put my bed back together on moving day.

Neither of us says a word as we kick off our shoes and crawl beneath the comforter. It’s light outside, and the birds are chirping to beat hell but we’ve hardly slept. Before I can even ask him, he says, “Can I turn on this fan over here? I like the noise.” My giggle comes out before I answer him. “What’s so funny?”

“I always sleep with that fan on.”

“It’s a sign,” Rhett says and as soon as the fan is on, his arms are wrapped around me again. What’s funny? It’s all so comfortable. Rhett here in my house, here in my bed, with his arms around me. All of it just…fits. I wonder briefly if he falls asleep with a smile like the one I feel on my lips.

Chapter Eleven

**Rhett**

It’s the first night that we both have had off in over two weeks, and I’m dyin’ to spend it with the woman that has engulfed my whole being. Skye. Between the club and her part-time job at the diner, we’ve been seeing each other here and there when we can, but it hasn’t been enough. At the same time? It’s probably been a blessing in disguise.

I’m determined to do things differently with her, than I have in the past with other women. Skye is unlike any other woman I’ve been with before. My fear is that I’m going to fuck this up somehow, and that’s the last thing I want.

I’ve never known a woman quite like Skye before. She’s funny, feisty as hell, and has this confidence: when she walks into the room she owns it. Even at the club, nobody would confuse her for one of the dancers, but nobody would question if she fits in either. She just does. I see nothing or nobody else when she’s in the vicinity. I’ve never had these feelings before. It’s as frightening as it is exciting. One minute I want to run from them and the next I want to whisper them into her ear just to see if she feels the same. A spell, that’s what it has to be, I swear. She’s magical.

Tonight, we are going to picnic on the beach. Yeah, romantic of me, right? I know. Skye makes me want to do things I’ve never done before. These last two weeks we’ve talked until we fall asleep. That’s something new too. Watched a couple of movies, played some Call Of Duty: Advanced Warfare. She’s a gamer chick. Score, right? I thought so too until she started collecting intel that I had no idea how to get and received bonus upgrade points. I’ve had the damn game for months and haven’t been able to get the weapons she had in minutes. Who knew a virtual ass whooping would be such a turn-on?

I kissed her the morning after our first talk about Ryan. Nothing but understanding, she didn’t question me or push for more, and maybe that’s why it was so easy to open up to her. Talking to Skye just felt right. I hadn’t slept with a woman—actually slept as in sleep and not fucking in…forever. If I was in a woman’s bed, we were having us some good ol’ playtime. I want that with Skye, no doubt, but I’m not rushing this thing between us.