Flawless (Chestnut Springs #1) (85)

I make this stupid hallway my runway.

Until I glance into the boardroom and see Rhett Eaton sitting in the same chair I met him in two months ago.

My steps falter and I stop to stare at him. He’s leaned back in his chair, one booted foot casually slung across his knee.

He’s devastating with his rugged lines, wild hair, and honeyed eyes. Far too masculine to be sitting in such a polished space. He overwhelms it.

He overwhelms me.

My throat aches just looking at him. And when his eyes slide over to meet mine through the glass, my chest feels like it’s cracking right open.

I remember too keenly the sight of him moving above me, the appreciation in his gaze when I modeled my chaps for him, the way he kissed me so tenderly in a room full of people.

I also remember him calling what we did “sleeping together for a couple weeks.” Rob said something similar to me when he broke things off with me to be with my sister, that we were just sleeping together so it shouldn’t matter. It stung then, but it was excruciating this time around.

But I think what hurt the most was the way he brushed off my concern for him. That he made me feel like some overbearing crazy person for caring about him.

And that’s enough to spur me into action. I turn my head and carry on down the hallway, resisting the urge to run and forcing myself to appear calm and collected.

I do not feel calm and collected. But I would rather fucking die than let Rhett see how deeply he wounded me.

“Summer!” He shoves the door open just as I pass. A whiff of his scent chases me like a haunting memory. “I want to talk to you.”

“I’m good, thanks,” I say without turning back to him.

“Please. Just five minutes.” The pleading note in his voice almost makes me stop.

Almost.

“I think you’ve said enough, don’t you?” I check my watch, wondering how soon I can get the hell out of here, and then I remember I don’t work here anymore, so it doesn’t matter.

“I haven’t said nearly enough.” I can feel him walking behind me, the warm solid presence of him looming over me but not overtaking me.

“You just walked out of a meeting. Go back.”

“That meeting doesn’t matter.”

I scoff at that, turning into my office. My office? My old office?

“You’re what matters.” He reaches for my arm, and I yank it back.

Turning, I grit my teeth. Feeling . . . cornered. Like I could attack. “Rhett. Get. Out.”

“Not a fucking chance, Princess.” He shuts the door and leans against it, his hands captured behind his back. “I have some things I need to say to you, and you’re going to listen.”

I round my desk and try to look bored, lifting a file and opening it. “Well, seeing as how you’ve trapped me in here, I guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“No, I guess you don’t. I’ve been trying to contact you for a week.”

“Mhm.” I stare down at the folder. I don’t even know what I’m looking at though. My entire body is attuned to him. Truthfully, it’s all I can focus on. “Been busy.”

“Bullshit. You’re ignoring me, and I deserve that.”

I blink, not having seen that coming.

“Listen, Summer.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and my fingers tingle with the memory of doing it myself. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry I betrayed your trust. Believe me when I tell you it keeps me up at night.”

My eyes flash up to check. He does look tired.

“I replay that interaction in my head when I lie in bed, thinking of all the ways I could have handled it better. Of all the ways I could have defended you without hurting you.”

Tears spring up in my eyes, because apparently, that’s my new thing.

For the past week, I cry at the drop of a hat. After years of seeing the glass as half full, I’m a mopey, whimpery, half-empty mess.

“Shit.” He groans, and his body tenses as he pushes back against the door, like he’s forcing himself away from me. “Please don’t cry. I fucking hate it when you cry. It’s like a bullet to my chest.”

“Taken many bullets, have you?” My voice is weak, and I hate that.

“No,” he husks, “but I would. For you, I would.”

I whimper quietly at that, trying to cover it up with a, “Hmm.”

“I said a lot of things I regret. Most of all, what I said about our time together. I can blame spilling your private business on coming to your defense in my own careless way. Because you may not know your worth yet, but I do. And I’ll happily punch anyone in the face who makes you question it. But telling you what I did at the hospital that night, I said that to hurt you.”

“Well, it worked.”

He winces but carries on. “I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

And then we’re back to like we were. Suspended in time. Staring at each other like we might find the answers to our problems written on the other person’s face.

“Tell me what to do, Summer. Tell me, and I’ll do it. Was I unclear before? Because I want to be crystal clear now. I love you. I loved you the moment you walked into that boardroom and smirked at me like you knew something I didn’t. It bothered me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanting to know what you know. I fixated on it, but I think I was just fixated on you.”