Flawless (Chestnut Springs #1) (84)

I sniffle and blink rapidly, regarding the shiny, bright, immaculate and modern office. All I want is the smell of sweaty mats at a gym and the clanking of plates on the end of a barbell. I want open fields, crisp air, and the Rocky Mountains at the end of the horizon.

I want a man who smells like leather, looks like a glass of bourbon, and who calls me princess while drawing on my back.

I want Rhett to unsay what he said.

I want him to want me. More than he wants anything. I deserve that. He taught me that I do.

“No, I don’t. I just don’t want to let you down,” I sob, my control cracking.

Kip reaches across the desk, holding his palm up and wiggling his fingers until I place my hand in his. “Listen to me carefully, Summer. The only way you could ever disappoint me is by not living your life to the fullest. Not going after what exhilarates you. You deserve that. And you deserve someone who wants that for you.”

He wraps his fingers around my wrist as I attempt to pull away. “I’m not stupid. I know things are strained between you and Rhett after that explosion. But I also know that men don’t look at a woman the way he looks at you unless they’re out of their goddamn mind for that person. I know you’re so accustomed to pleasing everyone that you give and give until you have nothing left to give. Rhett might be a little rough around the edges, but maybe you smooth him out and he scuffs you up. I don’t know. Only you can make these decisions. But what I saw that night was a man who’d burn everything down to defend you. I saw a man who’d risk it all to take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Maybe not. But that man wears his love for you on his sleeve for the entire world to see. And he doesn’t give a shit who sees it. He’d scream it from the mountain tops if you asked him to. It’s written all over him. And you definitely need that.”

I blow out a breath and stare up at the ceiling. Rhett loving me. It seems so unlikely. So far-fetched.

“Are you going to Vegas for the finals?”

Kip gets my attention with that comment. “Are you trying to play matchmaker again? It’s fucking annoying.”

“Well, are you?”

“Of course not. I’ll be working to make up for your old ass being laid up,” I try to joke. It’s familiar footing for us, but it comes out all watery.

The thought of Rhett chasing his third title without a soul in the stands who really knows him is a gut punch. I shouldn’t care so much, but I do. It makes more tears fall thinking of the wild boy who lost his mom, who doesn’t have the support of his family, riding injured for what could be the last time. A stadium full of strangers cheering him on, but not a single person who loves him there to witness it. No one to share it with.

“No, you won’t. Because you’re fired.”

I still and meet my father’s gaze, a sad smile playing at my lips. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“I’m not joking. You’re fired. You have until the end of the day to clear out your desk, and I’ll give you six weeks of severance.”

“Are you kidding?” My heart rate accelerates. He can’t be serious. “I went to law school so I could do this. So that I could be the best fit for you here.”

He pushes to stand, dusting his hands off like he’s done some great work here. “Yup. And now you’re going to go find something to do that is the best fit for you. You’re going to stop worrying about what everyone else thinks of you or wants from you. And you’re going to waltz out in the world and be selfish for once. Take what you want and stop feeling guilty about it. Take it from me, guilt will eat you alive.”

He knocks his fist on my desk and strides out of my office, tossing out, “Gotta get to my meeting,” over his shoulder.

So casual, like he didn’t just blow up my entire life to teach me some sort of tough-love lesson.





I stare at myself in the mirror, dabbing at my eyes and willing away the splotchy redness on my neck and chest. My heart is pounding so hard I can see the skin in my throat jumping every time it pumps.

It’s comforting and distracting. I’m alive, but am I really living? Or have I just been scuttling along, putting everyone else first?

I press my palm to my chest, just above the scar there to feel the organ pumping.

Did I chase off the one man other than my father who put me first? Was he out of line? Or was I so tuned out from what I want that I missed the part where we fell in love? Did I dismiss him when that’s what he was trying to tell me?

We spent weeks together. Traveling. Working out. Eating. He gave me his last chicken wing and let me warm my feet on him without complaint.

They weren’t loud proclamations. But they were still there. And I missed them, while ignoring what I was feeling.

I shake my head and comb my fingers through my hair, smoothing my hands down the pretty maroon pencil skirt I’m wearing. All I have for clothes is what I retrieved from my hotel room and what I left at my dad’s house in the city. All my favorite pieces are still out at Wishing Well Ranch, along with a good chunk of my favorite people.

With a deep centering breath, I turn and leave the washroom, striding down to my office on sky-high heels, refusing to walk around this place like I’ve just been fired. I hold my chin high and put my game face on, letting my hips sway.