Page 36 of Unravel Me

Audrey: I left the cookies on the doorstep! The ones in the baggie are for Mabel. Homemade treats.

I think part of me would have made any excuse to see this house again. If only to make sure last night wasn’t an apparition—considering everything about my life the last few weeks has felt surreal.

But it was real, and every warm familiar feeling came rushing back to me as I stood on the porch. Peering into the front window, the house was dark.

“If you’re looking for something to steal, you came to the wrong house!” Rhett's sudden voice sends me flying back, hand clutching my chest as I snap my eyes shut and take a deep breath.

“Holy shit. I didn’t know you were home.” I latch onto the porch railing, as my face grows hot.

Thank god for the porch railing, because I also wasn’t ready to be greeted by a glistening, shirtless man with a toolbelt low on his hips. Rhett squints at me as I frantically search for something to say.

He slowly and painfully drags his eyes over me. I swallow, fanning myself for a moment.

“I’ve been working all day in my shop.” He nods towards the two-story garage behind the house.

It never occurred to me he could be working from home. Rhett proceeds to reach into his back pocket, pulling his buzzing phone out. “Just got your text.” He smiles, reading it quickly as I bite my lip, trying not to stare at the artistic ink splattered across his chest.

“You made my dog treats?” His brows knit together.

“Yeah, I had leftover ingredients, so it was simple.” I shrug, running my palms down the sides of my hips, as Rhett steps closer, closing the distance between us on the porch.

“You are the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” he says slowly, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow.

“Oh, certainly not.” I choke, taking a step back. I’ve been called smart, demure, composed, and pretty, but never interesting. It throws me for a loop. “Well, I know you’re busy, so I won’t keep you!” I hike my thumb over my shoulder towards my car.

“I’m actually just finishing up in the workshop.” He pauses, placing his left arm on the railing, boxing me in. For the second time in twenty-four hours. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

My brain goes blank because nothing about being in this man's presence makes me act normal. I was fine yesterday until the kiss. Until I fully accepted that it had not been a ‘friend date’.

There’s no simple explanation. Rhett simply unravels me.

“Full disclosure…I didn’t cook it.” Rhett bites his lip, shifting his feet. “My mom dropped it off this morning and I’m only a tiny bit ashamed to admit that.”

“That’s so nice of you, but I don’t want to impose.”

“Darlin’, it’s me and the dog…it would be nice to have a person to talk to over dinner.”

I couldn’t find a reason to say no. It was dinner with Rhett or returning to an unpacked apartment bedroom. He wins again.

“Okay, thank you. I’d love to stay.”

Rhett leans forward, kissing me on the temple, which is somehow even more intimate than a kiss on the lips. “I have to clean up in the shop and rinse really quick, but I won’t be long. Make yourself at home. Cups are above the microwave, and the fridge is full of…well, beer and sweet tea.”

“Go, I'll be fine. Seriously. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” I attempt a joke, my stomach still fluttering.

His lips twitch like he’s going to say something, but he obliges and skips down the steps towards his garage. I walk through the front door into the quiet house and go straight to the kitchen. Looking around, I try to distract myself, but as I glance out the kitchen window, I see Rhett carrying a large stack of lumber over his shoulder, making it look easy, and my core clenches in unspeakable ways. My god, was that all it took for me to turn into a horny puddle? A man doing manual labor?

Quickly, I peel myself away.

Rhett told me to make myself at home, so I do just that. Well, to the best of my abilities. Because usually when people say that they mean have a seat, take your coat off, have a glass of water. But I had a feeling Rhett actually meant it. I didn’t know him very well—yet—but he’d struck me as a person who’d give you the shirt off their back. I hadn’t known many people like him. Or maybe, none at all.

I peek in the fridge and chuckled because he wasn’t lying. There’s a twelve-pack of beer, a pitcher of tea, the makings for a sandwich, and some questionable containers. Plus, one large casserole dish with a smiley face note stuck to it; from his mom, I’m sure. No wonder his eyes lit up when I brought him cookies.

I pour myself a tall glass of water and head back outside, settling onto the wooden porch swing with my legs tucked beneath me. The yard is cast with a warm orange glow, the beginning of the summer evening. Sounds of frogs and buzzing cicadas welcome me, and of course, the panting of a dog whose loyalty I won over without even trying.

“Come here, girl,” I whisper to her.

Mabel slowly gets herself up, trudging over to me with those dopey eyes and ears that flop in the breeze. While I scratch her ears, my phone dings and I pull it out to see a new email. I open it to be greeted by a picture of a new apartment available in NYC in my neighborhood of choice. I scroll through the photos. It’s not bad; it has the pre-war architectural details I love, but the view is gray buildings and city lights.