Flawless (Chestnut Springs #1) (14)

“It’s very temporary—” I start.

“Is this because you punched that guy?” Beau continues, intelligent eyes working through things so plainly.

“You punched someone?” Cade asks, brows knitting together.

“Bro. You need to turn a TV on now and then. You live in the dark ages.” Beau laughs.

Cade turns to Rhett, who still hasn’t opened his eyes. “Did he deserve it?”

Rhett smiles now, a real big smile. “So fucking much.”

“Bad word, Uncle Rhett!” Luke’s hands slap down over his ears with a shit-eating little grin.

My eyes bounce between everyone in the room, living for the level of comfort here. It’s amusing. It’s charming. It’s so different from how my childhood home felt.

“He’s in a tight spot with his sponsors, that’s all,” I clarify.

Cade grunts as he chops carrots. “When is he not in trouble?”

“Wait.” Beau’s face brightens. “Did you get assigned a babysitter?”

Rhett groans and drops his head back against the couch.

“I don’t like my babysitter either, Uncle Rhett.” Luke pats him like a dog and a laugh bubbles up out of me. Because Rhett called this. Harvey called this. They knew exactly how it was going to go down, and that level of familiarity is heartwarming to me. It’s chaotic in here already, and I love it. I’m starry-eyed and giddy.

“Mind your manners, Lucas Eaton,” Cade says while pulling a pan out from under the stove. “Answer the question, Rhett.”

Rhett glances over at Beau and says, “You can contact my agent for a comment.”

Beau barks out a laugh and looks over at me, hands held up in prayer position. “Please, Summer. Make my day. Tell me he’s in time out. Tell me he’s a thirty-two-year-old man with a full-time nanny.”

I press my lips together, dedicated to not throwing Rhett under the bus—no matter how badly I’d like to. “I’m new at the firm. This job is so that I can get some experience under my belt outside of the office.”

“Yeah. She told me that too,” Cade interjects as he seasons a sizeable chunk of beef now. “I think Miss Hamilton might be full of shit though.”

“Mind your manners, Daddy!” Luke shouts, right as Harvey scolds him, “Cade!”

I rub a hand over my mouth to cover my smile. You grow up around Kip Hamilton and a few bad words aren’t going to phase you.

“I’ll go grab dinner in town, leave you all to it. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

Beau holds up a hand to stop me. “Not a chance, Summer. You’re going to take a seat and tell us everything over Cade’s famous pot roast. Then I’m going to take us all for drinks in town at The Railspur so you can get a warm Chestnut Springs welcome and meet my buddy, Jasper.”

“Jasper is home?” Harvey’s head snaps up from where he was watching his grandson with an amused expression on his face.

And just like that, I’m sucked into a dinner of hearty home-cooked food, friendly taunting, and comfortable laughter.

Even Rhett lightens up now that it’s not just us, but he still avoids looking at me throughout the meal.





6





Summer





Willa: I miss your face already. Have fun playing Hell on Wheels?

Summer: What?

Willa: Your cowboy. I looked him up. He looks like the hot guy from Hell on Wheels. You know, the one with the long hair? Did you know they filmed that show out there?

Willa: You should bang him.

Summer: No.

Willa: Want me to print you a picture of him for your wall?

Summer: I don’t miss you at all.





Rhett and I drive in utter silence, which is fine. It gives me the opportunity to get acquainted with everything out the window.

“Turn here.” One small turn takes us to a dead-end side street, at the bottom of which sits The Railspur.

The pub is not what I was expecting from a small town. In fact, Chestnut Springs is not what I was expecting from a small town. I think my dad and I have watched a few too many old western movies, and I’m realizing that I am truly an oblivious city girl.

Because Chestnut Springs is beautiful. The main street has these adorable bricked-in sidewalks, ornate lamp posts with little town flags dangling from them, and the businesses down here have maintained the historic facades while modernizing or adding on to the rest. Old brick buildings with dramatic archways or charming colorful awnings line each side of Rosewood Street, the main thoroughfare in town.

And the pub is not some small-town dive either. It’s like . . . cowboy chic.

“Is this an old train station?” I ask as I roll into the parking lot that Rhett just silently pointed to.

“Yup.”

“I guess the name should have been clue enough,” I say, mostly to myself since Rhett seems limited to grunts and one-word answers, before pulling to a stop in a space not too far from the door.

He grunts.

And I turn to him as he flings off his seatbelt, like he can’t get away fast enough. “Are you always this monosyllabic? Or is this special just for me?”

“I don’t need this,” he mutters just before he slams the passenger door in my face and storms toward the bar.