Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
He tilts his head up, those brown eyes zeroing in on me, studying me as if I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out. “That’s one of the things that makes you a good father. Not everyone sees it that way.”
Is he speaking from experience? The somber tone tells me he is.
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Rhett just nods but doesn’t reply, so I press on. “Tell me about yourself, Rhett Swift.” I can’t say I’ve spent much of my life wondering about him, but I am now.
He frowns, which I’m not sure he realizes. Something about his expression says that Rhett isn’t used to people asking about him.
“There’s not a lot to tell that you don’t know. Ex-lawyer, went to Harvard, currently unemployed.”
“And none of those things tell me a damn thing about you.”
His mouth drops open slightly, his confusion obvious.
“I used to be married…?” he says, like it’s a question.
“Nope. Not good enough. I already know that.” I grin. “Hm…what’s your favorite dessert?”
“That tells you something about me, but being an ex-lawyer doesn’t?”
“Dessert is very important. For example, I don’t trust people who like pumpkin pie.”
“I like pumpkin pie,” Rhett counters.
“Damn it. I guess I’ll give you three strikes.”
He leans back, legs stretched across the floor beneath the table. One of them bumps mine, and he pulls it away. “Shit…umm…apple crisp.”
“You just redeemed yourself,” I tease.
“So you trust me now?”
“Getting there.”
Rhett rolls his eyes, but he’s got a smirk on his lips.
“With vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce.”
I groan. “There you go. A man after my own heart.” I wonder how often people talk to Rhett this way—about stuff that doesn’t have to do with his job, his father, or the rest of the family. Rhett and Gregory Swift worked together a lot, were the face of Birchbark, but something is telling me Rhett got a bit lost in all that—at least who Rhett really is. It’s presumptuous of me to assume, but I can’t stop it.
“I’m going to ask you at least one question like that every time I see you, Rhett.” My voice is entirely too flirty with a man I’m fairly certain is straight. A man my daughter likes, so even if he were interested, that truth would scare me away from pursuing anything with him. She’s already lost her mom. I won’t risk her losing someone else she cares about if it doesn’t work out.
“I should go,” Rhett says.
I wish he wouldn’t, but I won’t push him to do something he’s uncomfortable with. Hell, even the fact that I was flirting with him says it’s a good idea if he does go. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I flirted with someone. I haven’t been with a man in entirely too long, and yeah, there are some women in town I hook up with from time to time, but it’s a situation where we all know it’s just for fun and none of us are looking for anything serious. I don’t flirt with them.
“Okay.”
He pulls out his wallet and sets a twenty on the table.
“How about it’s our treat this time?” I ask, but Rhett shakes his head.
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that, but thank you.” He pushes his wallet back into his pocket and grabs his coat from the seat beside him. “Do you mind if I go tell Meadow goodbye?”
My pulse stumbles at his question. Nothing means more to me than someone being good to my daughter. He could have told me to tell her goodbye or just not done it, but the fact that Rhett thought about her at all means the world to me. It tells me everything I need to know about his character.
“You should come to Meadow’s party. She likes you, and I figure since you like apple crisp with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, I like you too. It would mean a lot to us if you were there. I get it if you have plans, but I wanted to make sure you know that we both extend the invite.”
He stares at me for a moment, like those two parts inside him are battling for dominance, and while I wish I could, it’s not a decision I can help him with.
Finally, he says, “I’ll check my schedule,” and it’s hard for me to hide my smile.
“Good.”
He gives me a quick nod, and then I watch as he walks into the general store and approaches Meadow. The two of them speak for a moment, and then Rhett Swift is gone.
The waiter approaches our table, and I get a box for Meadow’s food and pay before joining her in the store again.
“Time to head out, kiddo.”
“Okay.” She slides her coat, gloves, and hat on.
When we’re in the truck heading back to Birchbark, I ask, “You like Mr. Rhett, huh?”