“What did your physical therapist say? How long are they expecting for your recovery?” I ask.
“Nice subject change.”
I smile.
He sighs. “You know, the normal shit. They can’t give me a specific timeline, just said it takes time and patience for these things to heal. I’m hoping a few weeks, a month max.”
“Good. That’s good.” I tear my sandwich in two and hand him half.
“You don’t have to do that. Eat your lunch, Mo.”
“There’s plenty here. I don’t mind. Eat it.” I open the bag of chips and turn it toward him.
Rhett sits down, hands me the apple, and grabs his half of the sandwich.
He takes a hefty bite. “You still make a mean sandwich.”
“It’s funny,” I say. “Not much has changed with me over the years, yet I don’t feel at all like the girl I was when you left for the PBR.”
“Mo, I—”
“I’m sorry.” I frown. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
I can tell by the flat line of his lips that he isn’t happy.
“Mo, we need to talk. I want to talk.”
“I know. We will—”
“When you’re ready, okay?”
I nod jerkily, focusing on the rest of my lunch. We eat in silence, and then I put Rhett on the riding lawn mower, toss him a can of sunscreen, and send him out to the back forty.
When we’re finished with daily chores, I grab Duke and Diesel and put my lunchbox in my truck. Rhett hoses off the lawnmower, parks it back in the shed, and meets me by his car. The dogs fall at his feet. Rhett bends down, talking softly to them as he scratches and rubs.
“Thank you again, for today,” I tell him.
“Don’t mention it,” he says, standing to his full height.
His sling is back on, and I hope all over again that he didn’t do anything to strain it today. “The shoulder’s feeling good?”
“The shoulder is fine, Mo.”
“Okay. You should get home and ice it or put some heat on it or whatever it is you do for an injury like that. Oh, and take a pain pill, for God’s sake.”
“Mo.”
“What?”
“Do you do this every day?”
“Do I do what every day?”
“This.” He waves an arm toward Animal Haven, and Duke lets out a deep bark, turning toward where Rhett pointed. “All of it.”
“I don’t mow the back forty every day, no.”
He frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes.”
God, I hate having this conversation. Everyone thinks I don’t realize I’m working myself into the ground, but I do. I just don’t have any other choice. I either take care of Animal Haven or I get rid of it, and the latter is not an option.
“Everything else I do almost every day.”
He nods and tosses his shirt in the car. “You don’t have help?”
His phone rings from inside his pocket, and Duke barks again, but Rhett makes no move to answer it.
“I have volunteers who come in from time to time.”
“Let me rephrase. Do you have any regular help?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
Damn him. “As often as their schedules allow, and on Sundays.”
“Right.” His jaw clenches tight as his phone continues to ring.
“Your crotch is ringing.”
He tries to fight it, but I see a hint of a smile.
“You going to answer it?”
“No.” Shoving his hand in his pocket, he does something to silence his phone and opens his mouth, but I put a hand up.
“I get it, okay? You aren’t going to say anything that hasn’t already been said to me a million times. It’s a lot of work for one person, yes. But it’s necessary, and we have fewer animals right now, and I’m not willing to bend. I also won’t argue about it or try to plead my case. I have volunteers who come when they can, and that’s all I can ask for because they’re volunteers. Now, stop shoving your nose into my business and get yourself home and take care of your shoulder.”
“You lookin’ out for me, Mo?” he asks, tilting his head away from the sun.
“Someone has to.”
“And who’s watching out for you?”
No one. God, Rhett, since you left me six years ago, no one has looked out for me. Except maybe Coop, but I’ve always wondered if that’s out of courtesy to you.
With a deep breath, I look down at the ground. “I’m a big girl, Rhett. I watch out for myself.” I look up and catch his gaze. “Now, if you’re done assaulting me with questions, I have to get home and get cleaned up before my shift at Dirty Dicks.”
Pinching his lips together, he looks away. “You’re bartending tonight?”
“I am. You should come in for a drink if you don’t have any other plans.”
I climb into my truck and start it up, making sure to crank the air. Right before I shut the door, I hear him.
“Maybe I will.”
Rhett
“What are you doing here?”
I’m exhausted. I didn’t do strenuous work today, but my body is still healing, and I definitely pushed it too far. All I want is an ice-cold beer and my bed, which is why I’m not at all pleased to see Nikki sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of wine with Coop.
But sure as shit, here she is.
She and Coop turn at the sound of my voice.
“Where have you been?” Coop asks, scrunching his nose. “You stink.”
I glance down at myself. My jeans are covered in dirt—at least I think it’s dirt. There’s also a good possibility it’s a combination of dog and cat shit. My boots are also covered, and there’s a streak of something dark across my chest.
“I’ve been at Animal Haven.”
Coop grins. “Animal Haven, huh? Decided to give Mo a hand?”
“Something like that.”
“What is Animal Haven, who is Mo, and what in the world is that god-awful smell?” Nikki asks, covering her nose with her hand.
“Animal Haven is a no-kill animal rescue shelter, Mo is the woman who runs it, and I’m going to go with dog shit.”
Nikki takes a sip of her wine and turns around, giving me her back. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and then we can talk.”
“Or not.” Coop jumps up from his spot at the table, grabs a beer from the fridge, twists the top, and hands it to me. “I’d much rather hear about you and Mo.”
I take a swig. “There is no me and Mo.” Not yet at least.
“Sure. Why else would you jeopardize your recovery?”
“I’m hardly jeopardizing my recovery. I used my right arm to wash out cages and sat my ass on a riding lawn mower for a few hours.”
“And you just suffered a grade 3 concussion, and your doctor asked that you refrain from any strenuous activity for at least the next week,” Coop says.
“I’m fine.”
He smirks. “I’ll bet you are after spending the day with Mo.”
Nikki sits through our exchange with little to no interest.
I empty my beer and toss it in the trash. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
After my shower, I make sure to pull on jeans and a T-shirt before walking back through the house. If I was at home, I’d have no qualms about staying in the buff, and believe it or not, that’s a hard habit to break.
Coop is standing at the sink.
“Where’s Nikki?” I ask, looking around.
“She stepped outside to take a phone call.” He turns around and wipes his hands on a towel. “That woman is hot, but she has to be the most pretentious, annoying person I have ever met. I don’t know how you work with her without fucking her or plastering a piece of duct tape across her mouth.”
It’s awful of me to laugh, but I can’t help it. “If you think she’s annoying now, you should hear her in bed. ‘Don’t do that. Stop that. Faster. No, that’s too fast. Just let me do it�
��,” I say, mocking her. “Hard to please, but even harder to say no to.”
“Shut up.” Coop stares at me, open mouthed. “You slept with your manager? Are you stupid?”
“She wasn’t my manager at the time; she was my manager’s daughter. And it wasn’t exactly my finest moment. I was new on the PBR circuit, Mo and I had just broken up, and I was drunk.”
“That’s an awful combination.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Are things awkward between you now?”
“Mo or Nikki?”
“Well, both, but mostly Nikki.”
I grab a few grapes from the refrigerator and pop them in my mouth. “Not really. We don’t talk about it. I barely even remember it. As far as Mo, it’s not awkward at all. In fact, things are really quite comfortable between us. We seem to get along as well as we always did.”
“Have you had a chance to talk to her about everything yet?”
“Nah. The time hasn’t been right. But I will.”
“Talk to who about what?” Nikki asks, sauntering back into the room.
Coop rolls his eyes. “Nosy much?”
“I’m his manager. I’m allowed to be nosy.”
“We were talking about Mo.”
“Ah,” she says, nodding slowly. “The woman who runs Animal Haven.”
Coop clears his throat. “She also happens to be the first girl our boy here ever loved.” He nudges my good arm.
“Is that right?” Nikki pulls a tight smile and plugs her phone into the charger. “Just don’t get too cozy. You won’t be here long, Rhett.”
I could probably go home now if I wanted. I’ve only been here a few days, and I’ve already proven I can do most things on my own. It might take me a little longer, but I get them done. And as for the concussion, I think it’s safe to say I’m back to my old self. I’ve had none of the symptoms Dr. Simpson told me to watch out for.
But it’s funny—I was dreading coming back here, but now I’m in no hurry to leave.
“Too late for that. I’ve got Mo helping with the dogs and Coop cooking for me every night, so I’ll probably never leave,” I joke. “Speaking of food, let’s hit up Dirty Dicks for dinner.”
“Actually, you won’t be going anywhere, handsome. I didn’t come all this way to go have dinner at a bar,” Nikki says. “I came here so we could talk about how we’re going to handle your career.”
I cock an eyebrow. “My career, huh? The way I see it, my career is on hold until I rehab this shoulder. And don’t act like you drove across the country to see me, Nikki. It probably took you two hours to get here.”
I grab Coop’s keys, but Nikki snags them out of my hand. She tosses them to Coop. “Sit down, Rhett.”
“I’m not a child, Nikki. Quit treating me like one.”
“You know what?” Coop tosses a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna head out, give you two some time to talk.” He walks past me and leans in close. “She’s not staying here.”
“I know,” I mumble, glaring at Nikki.
The door shuts behind him, and I pull out a chair and drop down, but I refuse to say a word. I’m so goddamn pissed at Nikki for showing up unannounced and talking to me the way she did in front of my brother. If I open my mouth, I’ll likely say something I’ll regret. As much as I hate Nikki right now, she’s the best manager in the market—aside from her father—and I can’t risk losing her.
“You’ve been ignoring my calls.” She pulls out a chair and sits across from me.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You’ve had one PT appointment.”
I lift a brow. “You checking up on me?”
“It’s my job to check up on you.” She sighs. “And you aren’t making my job very easy. Cut me a break, Rhett. Your career is my business. Your success is my business.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“Give me a little credit; I’m not all business. I was calling because even though you’re my client, you’re also my friend.”
She places her hand on mine, running her thumb along my knuckles. Her voice and face soften, and I start to feel bad for being such a dick because she’s right; we are friends. She was my first friend when I moved away from home, and even after we slept together, we remained close. She might be a bitch most days, but she always has my back.
“I wanted to make sure you were doing okay, and when you wouldn’t return my calls, I decided to come see for myself.”
I pull my hand out from under hers. For some reason it feels wrong, like I’m cheating on Mo, which is absurd because she’s no longer mine to cheat on. And anyway that’s her department. Still, it doesn’t feel right.
Running my fingers through my hair, I lean back in my chair. “I appreciate that. Thank you. And I’m sorry for not answering. I’ve been busy.”
“Ah, yes, Animal Haven.”
“I’m not discussing Mo with you, if that’s what you’re working toward.”
She holds up her hands. “So quick to go on the defensive. I couldn’t care less about your little friend Mo. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
I’m going to need a drink for this. “Want a beer?” I push up from the chair and grab a bottle from the refrigerator.
“A beer would be good.”
My left arm is still in the sling, so I hold the beer bottle with my left hand and use my right to twist the cap. But the movement puts more pressure on my arm than I intended, and I wince.
“Shit,” I hiss.
Nikki jumps up from her chair and takes the bottle. “Here, let me.”
Cupping the palm of her hand over the bottle she manages to pop the cap on her beer and then mine. When she sees me looking at her funny, she laughs. “What? You’ve never seen a girl pop the top off a beer?”
“No, I’ve seen girls do it; I just wasn’t expecting you to do it.”
Nikki hands me my beer and sits back in her chair. “I’m not as prissy and stuck up as everyone thinks I am.”
“No one called you stuck up.”
Tipping her head back, she takes a drink. “Don’t have to; they’re thinking it.”
I can’t deny it—I’ve thought that a time or two.
“See,” she says, pointing her beer toward me. “You’ve thought it before.”
“Once or twice, but I don’t think it all the time.”
“You don’t?”
“Not at all. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you to work in a field littered with men. I think any woman would have to have some bite to her to do what you do.”
“Thanks.” She smiles and picks at the label on her beer. “I appreciate that.”
A couple of seconds pass, and when she doesn’t make an attempt to redirect the conversation, I do it for her.
“So, you wanted to talk about my career.”
She looks up. “Yes. Your career.” Reaching for her bag on the floor, she pulls out a file folder. “I think while you’re rehabbing, this might be the perfect opportunity to get in one of those campaign ads. Your shoot for Rugged wasn’t supposed to happen for another couple of months, but I talked to Jessica, and she’s not opposed to moving it up.”
I learned from Nikki that Christian Devonshire is a hot new designer with denim line called Rugged, and they sought me out to be the face of their brand.
“Awesome. As long as I don’t have to do any heavy lifting or use my arm.”
“No.” She waves me off. “Nothing like that. In fact, your ad is with a female model.” Nikki flips through her folder. “Molly Farris.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Me neither. It’ll be a couple shoot. They’re aware of your shoulder and have agreed to work around it.”
“When do I fly out?”
“Well…that’s something I was going to talk to you about. When I was outside on the phone earlier, I was making a proposition to Jessica.”
“What kind of proposition?”
&nbs
p; “I’ve only been in Heaven for a few hours, but I’m already in love with this place. It holds a certain southern charm you can’t find just anywhere, and I think it’ll be a perfect location for the shoot. And it’s a double win because you won’t have to leave and interrupt your physical therapy schedule. If you’re okay with it, all we’ll have to do is find a location.”
“I think it’s a great idea, and I’ve got the perfect location.”
Nikki and I down a few more beers as we talk about the ranch where I grew up. Nestled in the country, my parents’ ranch is full of anything a western ad might require—animals, old barns, wood-post fencing. It’s a photographer’s dream, or at least that’s what Beau tells me.
Once we’ve talked through the campaign, Nikki and I order a pizza and switch gears. Over dinner, we talk about my accident, which riders are putting up the highest scores while I’m gone, and what kind of numbers I’m going to need to pull when I come back. I’m confident that once I get my shoulder healed, I’ll be a top contender for the championship, and Nikki agrees.
The longer we talk, the more comfortable she gets, kicking off her high heels and tugging her hair down from the fancy contraption she had it in, and for the first time in years, I see a side of Nikki that hasn’t come out since she took over for her father. The chip on her shoulder seems to diminish, along with her sharp words. For a couple of hours, we’re just two friends catching up and shooting the shit. It’s nice, and a reminder that we were friends before any of the rest of this came along.
The clock in Coop’s living room dings, and Nikki yawns. “What time is it?”
I glance at my watch. “Holy shit, it’s after midnight.”
“Tonight was fun.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a fun guy.”
“It’s just…we haven’t hung out in a long time. We should do it more often.”
My head is telling me to draw a line in the sand. The last thing I want or need is Nikki trying to rekindle what we had. We’ve gone years without even acknowledging that night, and it needs to stay that way.
“We’ll have to make a point of catching up a little during our weekly business meetings.”
Her eyes widen a fraction, but she nods. “Right. Our meetings. Sure.”
Crazy Sexy Love (A Dirty Dicks Novel) Page 7
