Page 39 of Storm Warning
I wonder if their love was easy or if it ended prior to it ever really beginning? If Grace was just infatuated with Walter, or if there was more to their story?
Closing my eyes, I try to imagine what their love looked like, but the sound of my phone pulls me away from my daydream and back to reality.
Rhett?Why is he calling? And why am I so nervous?
“Hello?” My voice is muddled with uncertainty.
“Are ya busy?” he questions, his voice as smooth as Tennessee Whiskey.
No.Not that I plan to share that with him. I force an indifferent sigh.“A little, why?”
I can practically hear his smile through the phone as he replies, “We can either pretend I believe that, or you can be ready to be picked up in ten minutes.”
I look down at my pajamas, contemplating whether or not ten minutes is enough time for me to not look like I just rolled out of a dumpster.
“What’ll it be, Angel? I don’t got unlimited minutes and I ain’t tryin’ to use them all in one phone call,” he chuckles.
“Please, don’t be too charming.” I roll my eyes as if he can see my irritation. Looking toward my closet, I consider his offer a second longer. “Give me fifteen minutes and tell me our destination.”
“Dress up, dress down. Doesn’t matter. No cowboy shit today, I promise. See ya soon.” He hangs up the phone before I respond.
Well, at least it’s not a rodeo then. I release a relieved breath while I move toward my closet, thankful that he unknowingly helped me avoid the one place I’d rather not be, no matter how bored I am.
I grab my CD case, flipping through the pages of burnedCDs within it. I pull out the one labeled Summer Mix and stick it into my stereo. The Killers come streaming through my speakers asMr. Brightsidestarts to play.
Rushing toward my bathroom, I jump in the shower, washing my body as fast as I can before reaching for my towel. I brush my teeth and hair just as fast, before smothering nearly every inch of myself in a vanilla brown sugar lotion. Looking at the clock, I have seven minutes left, that is if he actually shows up exactly when he said he would. I land on a smokey eye because I know that if the power went out, I could still do it perfectly. I switch my nose ring out from a hoop, too a stud, then run a straightener over my hair before dousing my body in a matching body spray.
Entering my closet, I try on a low-rise camo mini-skirt and halter top. Cute? Yes. Practical? No. At least, not when I have no idea where we are going. I pass over outfit after outfit, turning down nearly half my wardrobe before circling back to my shorts. I grab a pair with rhinestone stars on the back pockets, then a hot pink crop t-shirt and pink flip-flops to match.
Shutting my CD player offer, I step back and take myself in.Hot, obviously. I laugh softly as I look in the mirror checking my outfit from every angle.
I glance at the clock and my fifteen minutes are up.Damn I’m good.
I wonder if Rhett is perfectly punctual, just like he’s perfect at everything else. I grab some frosty pink lipgloss and toss it in my bag before racing down my stairs. Skipping every other step until I make it to the living room and swing open my front door, where I find him planted on the steps.
“Damn,” he says, rising from his spot. His stare is blatant, scalding in its intensity, and I find that I don’t mind it one bit. In fact, it’s actually kind of alluring.
“What?” I flash him a smug grin. “Place a bet that I would take longer than we agreed upon?”
“No, but I would’ve waited all damn day knowin’ this would be the result.” Underneath the confidence of his statement, there’s a sense of reverence. Like he can’t quite believe I’m real. Ginny’s comment resurfaces. Right now, looking down on him from the steps, Ifeellike an angel.
“Lucky for you, you don’t have to.” My eyes chase the outline of his full lips, and by the self assured smile he wears, he knows I’m taking him in. I brush past him, breaking our heated eye contact. My guard shoots back up. I’m still not sure of him and this isn’t a date. I remove the smile from my lips. “Where to, Casanova?”
“The Fair.”
“Step right up and try your luck at the races,” bellows a tall, skinny man who sports a goatee and a bright red shirt. “You, too, could be the next Champion derby rider. All you have to do is take a seat and have five bucks to your name. Do I have any takers?” he yells into the sea of patrons walking through the festival games. A few men take a seat as they bet between themselves on who will get first, and I make the mistake of looking the worker’s way. “Come on, don’t you want to win this lovely lady a prize?” He leans over his stand, doing his best to grab Rhett’s attention.
Rhett eyes us both, mulling over joining the game.
The man sees his hesitation and continues his spiel. “Take a seat, the game is simple. Once we have a fair group of contestants, the race is off. You just have to point your gun at thetarget and hope your aim can outmatch the water’s power. That, and the other contestants’ ability to do the same.” He wiggles his brow. “If you’re the victor, you can pick any item from this entire wall.” Leaning back, he points to the massive stuffed animals above him, then glides his hands under a row of Happy Bunny photos with ridiculous sayings, and half-naked or completely naked Playboy posters. “Eighteen and up for these, of course.” He gives a cheeky grin, pretending to peel back the masking tape that barely covers what’s beneath it. “How does that sound, sir?”
“Too easy,” Rhett counters, forcing a laugh from the man. I wonder if he knows which seats are rigged and who will win long before the game even starts.
“Pick a seat, sir. You sound ready to take the title.” His smile seems genuine, but I’m not so sure it’s because of the interaction or more so that he’s filling every spot with ease. “How about this striking woman you brought with you? Do you have a taste for the title as well? Maybe a little lovers’ quarrel on who the true champion is?”
Rhett looks back at me, playful curiosity looming in his eyes. “Yeah, what’ll it be, Angel?” His smirk deepens, happiness all but glowing from him.
I smile back before taking a seat at his side. “Game on,” I whisper.
