by Faber, Elise
Click.
The door unlocked and seeing as she was mid-tug, it flew open.
She landed in a heap on the gravel-covered shoulder, barely registering the sting of her backside and palms as they made contact with the sharp rocks.
Because then, he stepped out.
Him.
Justin’s brother.
And fuck her life, that was just absolutely perfect.
Seven
Rex
The angel sitting in the road, covered in dust and tears, probably should have looked much less angel-like, but instead, she was even more beautiful in the light of day than she’d been the previous evening.
He held his breath as he surveyed her, starting at her toes—sturdy, comfortable sneakers—going to her legs—tight jeans with a rip over one knee—and up to her torso—a shirt from Henry’s Diner, identical to the one she’d been wearing the night before. She must be going to work.
Rex frowned.
Had her car not started again?
Dale had better not be fucking with him.
But just as he pulled out his cell to give Dale a piece of his mind, the angel pushed herself to her feet, sighed, then straightened her shoulders and sighed again. She came over to him and stuck out her hand.
“I’m Tilly,” she said, hazel eyes meeting his. “And I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for your windshield. I shouldn’t have—” She broke off, cheeks reddening. “Well, I shouldn’t have been kicking rocks.”
He lifted a brow, amusement curling through him at her contrite words. “Why were you kicking rocks?”
She shook her head. “Let me give you my number. I’m happy to pay for whatever damages I—”
“Why were you walking to work?” he interrupted.
Tilly, and for some reason that name seemed to fit her perfectly, froze. “Um . . .” Then she wrinkled her nose, and he had the oddest urge to lean forward and brush his lips across the freckles there. “Well, my car was stolen this morning.”
Rex blinked. “What?”
“I know, right?” she said. “I don’t know who would want that old rust bucket, but I woke up this morning and it was gone. I was thirty minutes late for my shift because I had to walk in.”
Walk in?
He took a closer look at Tilly, saw what he’d missed the first time. The shirt wasn’t clean and . . . neither was her hair?
Reaching up before he could stop himself, he plucked a piece of green out of her hair. “Is that an onion?”
She flicked it from his fingers. “Chive. There was this little girl who—” She seemed to shake herself, and Rex found that in that moment, he would have given a whole lot to hear the rest. “Never mind. You don’t need to hear about my morning. I’ve already inconvenienced you twice in as many days. My cell is—”
She’d pulled out her phone and froze, cheeks getting even pinker.
“What is it?” he asked, more than a little intrigued about this woman and her reactions.
A rueful smile curved her lips. “My cell is dead.”
“Ah.” He smiled back. “How’d that happen?”
“Electronics and orange juice don’t mix.”
“Ah.”
“I—” She broke off. “I can give you my email?”
Amusement boiled up in his veins and Rex smothered a smile. “Email is fine.” Not that he had any intention in allowing her to pay to replace his windshield, but he also wasn’t going to give up any avenue for contacting her, especially if her cell was dead. He made a mental note to take care of that as well and handed her his phone. “Go ahead and put it in.” A beat. “You might as well put your cell in, too. The insurance company might need it.”
She winced but spent the next twenty seconds plugging things into his phone before handing it back. “I really am sorry.”
He tugged the end of her ponytail. “It’s not a big deal.”
A nod as she shoved her hands back into her pockets and turned away.
“Can I give you a ride?”
She spun back around. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly—”
Rex wrapped his hand around her elbow, cutting off her protests and leading her toward the passenger’s side of his car. “Let me at least drive you home,” he said. “I can’t just leave you on the side of the road. I’m not a total creep.”
“Just kind of one.”
Burn.
But he couldn’t deny he’d heard that before, more than once even. “True enough,” he said, nudging her into the seat.
Tilly had frozen, cheeks turning bright red, hands over her mouth. Rex simply tugged her right arm down, brought the seat belt across her torso, and buckled her in.
Then he closed the door and paused. Breathed.
Once. Twice. Enough.
Rounding the front of his car, he tucked down the biting words he wanted to snap back, shoved away the hurt feelings. Numbing coldness swept through him, cooling the burning sensation in his gut, the warmth that had been steadily filling his heart over the last months.
He tugged open the door, plunked into the driver’s seat.
Pressing the button to start the ignition, he kept his gaze forward as the car rumbled to life. But when he reached down to shift it into gear, Tilly’s delicate voice filled the air.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“No,” she said fiercely. His gaze shot to the right, locked with her beautiful hazel eyes, and it was hard to hold on to that numbness, so damned hard. “It’s not fine. You rescued me last night, and I repaid you by ruining your windshield.”
“It’s nothing.”
A shake of her head. “It was something to me, and . . .” She paused, sucking in a breath before the words seemed to burst out of her. “It’s just, I know something of what it’s like to be judged and found lacking. I shouldn’t have—” She broke off and nibbled at the corner of her mouth.
“How could anyone find you lacking?”
An honest question, albeit a blurted one that was based more on instinct than actually knowing her. She was a good person. And considering he wasn’t, Rex figured he was a good authority on knowing when someone wasn’t like him. Thank fuck she wasn’t like him.
“You should buckle up,” she said softly.
“What?”
She shifted, one second in her own seat, the next her blond ponytail was in his face, her breasts against his chest. Her scent was a combination of roses and a multitude of food smells—which should have been off-putting but somehow was intoxicating. He inhaled deeply, felt the eau de Tilly sink into his pores.
Click.
She sat back.
He blinked.
“There,” she murmured. “Now, you’re safe.”
Rex didn’t believe that for a second.
Eight
Tilly
The drive to her house was only a couple of minutes, but the guilt was eating her alive.
Such an asshole.
As in, she was the asshole here.
Rex turned up her driveway, gravel pinging the undercarriage of his expensive sedan. Great. Now she probably needed to figure out a way to budget for a paint job, too.
She turned to face him as they slowed at the top of the hill, another apology on the tip of her tongue.
Then she saw her car.
Her. Car.
Parked exactly where she’d left it the night before, right next to her front porch.
“What the fuck?” she muttered.
Rex pulled to a stop and one brow lifted. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“I would,” she said, shock making her lips loose. “If she were still alive.” She didn’t stay to witness his reaction. Instead, just pushed out of his sedan and walked over to where her beater was parked. Which was the moment she saw the sign on the front porch post.
Don’t freak out. I brought it to the shop to fix it up.
—Dale
“What the fuck?” she muttered again.
Her breath caught. “Then why bring it up at all?”
“Because hearing the word fuck from your pretty lips is beyond hot.” Tilly swallowed hard, but before she could formulate a response to that, he went on. “So, I’m guessing you missed”—he nodded at the piece of paper taped to her porch post—"the note this morning?”
“Unfortunately, it was dark when I left, and I didn’t see it.”
“That sucks.”
A nod. “Though, I guess I don’t need to call the police and report my car being stolen.”
Half his mouth curved up. “I see it now.”
Tilly’s brows drew together. “See what?”
“You’re a bright side.”
“What?”
“You’re one of those people who always sees the bright side.”
It took a heartbeat for his words to process, but when they did, she couldn’t stop the hysterical laughter from bursting free. It ripped out of her, made her eyes fill with tears, chest hiccupping, and knees wobbling. She staggered a few steps forward and dropped onto the edge of her porch. If he only knew. Oh God, if he only knew.
One minute, or maybe five minutes, perhaps even an eternity passed before she managed to get herself under control. And the first thing she saw when she glanced up was Rex. He was leaning against a post opposite her, blue eyes swimming with curiosity.
But he didn’t ask.
Just extended a hand and held out a handkerchief.
An honest to goodness linen handkerchief.
“Who are you?” she asked, taking it and blotting her eyes.
“Funny,” he said, a smirk playing at the edges of his beautiful mouth. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I’m just a girl,” she said quietly. “A stuck, small-town girl.”
“Why are you stuck?”
He couldn’t begin to understand, this man who was born into obscene wealth, who’d never had to worry where his next meal might come from, who never had to struggle for anything in his entire life.
“Some people aren’t free to flit around the world.” She sighed. “Some people have responsibilities.”
“And by that, you’re inferring I don’t have any?”
His tone was deadly, quiet with an edge of frost.
She opened her mouth, ready to backtrack her words, but then thought, Fuck it all. Because dammit, no. He didn’t have any responsibilities. He wasn’t Justin. He’d appeared in town, wreaked havoc, and left. And from what she knew, that was his M.O. “Yes,” she said. “That’s exactly what I’m inferring.”
A flash of white teeth. “Well then, angel, I’d say you’re right.” He pushed to his feet and came close enough that her lungs strained with the effort to keep her breathing steady. His hand lifted, and suddenly she was inundated with the scent of Rex.
That fucking glorious mix of sandalwood and bergamot.
And cinnamon.
It was most definitely cinnamon.
She inhaled, trying to capture it in her memories, holding on to the scent to study later. Why the mix of common ingredients smelled so fucking good on Rex Roosevelt.
Probably the old money.
That was enough for her to snap herself out of the scent fog.
At least until his fingers drifted into her hair, sliding gently through the strands, sending a shiver down her spine, and turning the scent fog into a Rex fog. Fingers drifted along her nape, up to the crown of head, and then paused.
“You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” A beat. “Even with chives in your hair.” His fingers moved in quick succession, plucking at her scalp several times. He tossed his bounty to the ground, hesitated for a long moment that had her holding her breath, then stepped back. Two seconds later, he was in his car, dust cloud in his wake as he drove down the driveway.
About thirty seconds after he’d disappeared from sight, Tilly reached into her purse for her keys.
She found them easily.
Unfortunately, her orange juice-soaked cell phone was nowhere to be seen.
Even more unfortunately, she knew exactly where it was.
Sitting on the plush leather seat of Rex’s car.
Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
Nine
Rex
He still wasn’t sure why he’d done it.
It being doing something not selfish for the first time in his life.
Which was quite possibly an exaggeration, though not by a whole lot, and it didn’t do anything to explain why he all of a sudden had emotions and longings and—fuck him senseless—feelings.
And that was definitely a curse word in his mind.
Roosevelts didn’t have feelings.
Except, his brother did. His father had. So maybe it wasn’t that Rex didn’t have feelings, so much as he preferred to avoid them at all costs . . . because they made him vulnerable.
“I’ve been hearing too many of those fucking podcasts Kelly is addicted to,” he muttered, though not altering his destination. They were filled with all sorts of Millennial bullshit about self-affirmations and embracing one’s emotions. There must be some damned good subliminal messages in them.
Or . . . maybe he was tired of being so fucking alone all the time.
Rex paused, hands clenching the steering wheel for a heartbeat before he brushed off the thought and kept driving. He had important things to do.
Fine.
One important thing to do.
He turned into the small strip mall on the edge of town, thinking it was lucky there was only one cell service provider that worked in the area. Made his next task easier.
And easy he was comfortable with.
Doing something nice for someone without expecting something in return . . .
“Enough,” he growled, snatching up the cell and marching into the store. He strode up to the counter, plunked the phone onto the counter, and demanded to see a manager.
There.
That was Rex Roosevelt.
A slender man with bright red curls came out of the back. “Is there a problem, sir?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes.” He shoved the cell forward an inch. “Got doused in orange juice this morning. I need an exact replacement.”
Relief crossed the kid’s face. “I can do that.” He glanced down at the phone. “Be right back with it.” Then he disappeared back through the gray swinging door. It had a porthole like a ship, but not even that idiosyncrasy could distract Rex from the question swirling around his mind.
Mainly, why the fuck was he doing this?
Because . . . Tilly.
Because something inside him told him to pay attention.
Because he’d only felt this way once before.
With Kelly.
Sighing, knowing he was being a fucking idiot, but not able to stop himself anyway, he tapped his fingers on the counter and waited. A woman in the corner kept glancing over at him, lips curved as she tried to catch his eye. But that particular type of interaction could only go two ways—she either wanted to fuck him or she thought he was Justin.
And both possibilities would end in disappointment.
Eventually, she stopped trying to get his attention, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The kid came out from the back—Jeremy, Rex realized was his name. Look at that, he could read a nametag.
Kudos to him.
Kudos?
Fuck him. He needed to get out of this town before he turned into even more of an idiot. Kudos. Holy fucking shit. He was losing his damned mind. Jeremy held the box toward him, as though expecting Rex to inspect it.
Rex was too trapped in kudos thoughts. He took the briefest glance, saw it appeared to be an identical phone then pushed his own cell with Tilly’s number on the screen. “Set it up for this account please, but”—he tugged out hi
s credit card—“pay for it with this—”
“Justin?”
Fuck his life.
He didn’t turn until Jeremy took his card and started the ungodly long process at the computer that seemed to accompany any trip to a cell store.
Then, very slowly, he rotated to face the woman. She was beautiful, with a mane of chestnut hair and nice lean legs. And great, now he sounded like Kelly describing her horses. Next thing, he’d be describing her flanks.
“I just wanted to say thank you for helping with Kaycee yesterday. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She smiled. “It’s only a sprain, like you thought, but this mama hadn’t been through that before and . . .” Her lips flattened out. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to interrupt you, I just thought—”
So tempting to snap back, to ruin the perfect image of his perfect brother.
But feelings.
Fucking feelings.
Rex forced his lips to curve. “I’ll be sure to let Justin know.” He extended his hand. “Rex Roosevelt. Justin’s twin.”
“Oh.” Her jaw worked for a second. “I didn’t realize you were still . . . um, that’s to say, I didn’t know—”
He put her out of her misery.
“I’m in town for a few more weeks.” A beat. “I’m glad Kaycee isn’t badly injured. I’ll let Justin and Kelly know.”
Her face paled at the mention of Kelly’s name. “Don’t. I shouldn’t have bothered—”
“It’s no bother. Abigail and the twins are putting me through my uncle paces this afternoon. They’re trying to get me back up on a horse.” He kept his tone light, though with a deliberate emphasis on uncle.
The woman’s face was gray now. “I—uh—”
He put her out of her misery. “I swear they’re going to try and get me up on Theo.” Theodore was widely known as the most temperamental horse at the ranch, and he’d more than earned his reputation. Hell, the last time he’d been in the barn, Theo had tried to take another bite out of him and had nearly succeeded. The only person he liked was Melissa—Kelly’s sister—and Rex was half-convinced that was only the case because Theo had gotten to play hero with her and just liked to play up his prowess.
