Flawless (Chestnut Springs #1) (73)

When his cheek twitches, I know I listened to the right girl.

That smile is my kryptonite. And those hands. And that mouth, including the toe-curling things that come out of it. The dick, too. Big fan of Rhett Eaton’s dick.

Actually, it would seem I’m just a big fan of Rhett Eaton, and not the cocky cowboy everyone else gets to see. The man who kisses me sweetly, who makes me feel taken care of, like I’m not a burden—the one who’s just a little bit vulnerable and insecure.

The man that no one else really sees. I’m not sure why he’s opted to show me that side of himself, but I know I need to handle it with care. I know Rhett is far more sensitive than he lets on. His wounds run deep, and he’s patched them with a public persona and a cocky grin that doesn’t match the soulful man I’ve come to know.

“There he is.” His opposite hand raises up in a salute, and he holds my hand tight as he strides across the room toward the table where Jasper is already seated.

Hilariously, Jasper doesn’t look like he belongs here either. His scruffy beard covers most of his face, and his shaggy dark blond hair peeks out from under the team cap he’s wearing.

“Hey, guys.” Jasper’s eyes drop to our intertwined hands and his lips press together. “Rhett, don’t think I’ve ever seen you hold a girl’s hand before,” he continues as we pull out our chairs across from him.

I flush and pull my hand away, but the minute we’re seated in the clear Lucite chairs, Rhett reaches across the space between us and grabs it again, thumb rubbing in reassuring strokes.

“Didn’t know growing a playoff beard was a thing when you aren’t even close to making the playoffs,” Rhett deadpans.

Jasper smirks and dips his chin down to read the menu in front of him. “Vicious, little Eaton.” He pops his head up just long enough to add, “Lovely to see you, Summer.”

There’s something different about Jasper. Something quiet and introspective. Something sweet, but also something very removed. I can’t quite put my finger on him. The only thing I know is that I’ve heard my dad talk about goalies being a different type of athlete than your average hockey player.

“You too,” I tell him honestly.

“Thanks for meeting us today,” Rhett says. “I don’t love dinners out before I ride.”

Jasper grunts. “Yeah. I hear that. Playing on a full stomach makes me want to hurl.”

My mouth twists. I’m in for an interesting evening of trying to make conversation with Jasper. At least it will distract me from the gnawing anxiety over Rhett riding again this weekend.

My phone rings loudly in my purse, much too loud in the quiet restaurant.

“Shit. Sorry guys.” I rifle through my oversized purse, desperately hoping to find it and shut it up, silently chastising myself for dumping everything in here including receipts I’ll never need.

My hand closes on the vibrating block and I pull it out right as the server comes to fill our tall, slender water glasses.

The name Doctor Douche flashes across my screen as I silence the ringer. My eyes shoot up to Rhett, who is staring at the phone in my hand looking equal parts amused and murderous.

“When did you do that?” I whisper.

“You left your phone unlocked one day,” he mutters, peering just over my shoulder, looking like a scolded little boy who isn’t sorry at all.

My mouth drops open, and I try to keep from laughing. “Really mature,” I reply as I click the phone off and toss it back in my purse while shooting Jasper an apologetic glance. “Sorry about that. So, tell me, have you ever been to one of Rhett’s events?”

“Not in a long time. Our seasons overlap and my schedule is usually packed with—”

My phone blares again, and I grimace, cringing internally as I yank my phone out again. I don’t bother glancing at Rhett because I can tell by the set of his body next to mine that he’s ready to break something.

We haven’t talked much about what we are or where we’re going. I want so badly to not be needy or clingy that I’ve been too afraid to ask. He hasn’t told me anything, but his body says it all.

His body says I’m his.

When I pull out my phone this time, my sister’s name flashes across the screen, which has my brow furrowing. She rarely calls me.

I shoot a concerned look at Rhett, whose expression tells me he’s equally confused.

“Sorry, I’m just going to take this,” I announce to the two men who respond with murmurs telling me to go ahead.

I slip my thumb across the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Winter?”

“Summer, where are you right now?” Her voice is arctic, like usual, but there’s also a thread of something else in there.

“I’m out for dinner.”

“In the city or away?”

She’s never taken an interest in where I am.

“I’m in the city. Winter, what’s wrong?”

Rhett peers at me, concern etched on his face.

“Our dad had a heart attack.”

My stomach plummets. “What?”

“It’s very mild.” She sniffs, and I can just imagine her inspecting her nails right now, like I’m some sort of simpleton because I didn’t become a doctor. “He’s going to be okay. But he’s here at the hospital if you’d like to see him.”