Page 28 of How Dare You
This is getting tedious. “I work on bank holidays.”
“I packed your favorite pajamas,” she adds, like that’ll make this okay.
“That’s not a selling point. I can sleep in those at home. I will be sleeping in those at home. Tonight.”
Bea slows her car to a stop in the middle of the road and pushes the shifter to park. She unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face me. “If you want me to take you home, I will.”
“Good, let’s—”
“But you’re making a mistake.” Bea’s words aren’t harsh. Her tone doesn’t even flirt with firm. She’s pure sincerity, kindness, gentleness. “This is barely a vacation. We just moved a project up on your timeline. If someone else had won that auction, you’d already have it on the schedule.”
My jaw clenches. “If someone else had won that auction, they wouldn’t have cornered me into spending two full weeks at their house with them.”
“Rhett’s not cornering you into anything,” Allie’s quick to contradict me. No, quick to defend him. “You agreed to stay with him, didn’t you?”
Barely. I don’t respond.
“It’s absolutely stunning, Dev. You’re going to love it here. He showed me pictures, and I thought it looked like a place where you would be happy. Where you could rest.” She points behind me, at the desert hills. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Yes,” I answer through gritted teeth.
“So, we’re just moving up the timeline,” Sadie adds. “He’s got work to do. He probably won’t even be here the whole time.” Oh, he’ll be here the whole time.
They’re doing this out of love. It’s meddling and invasive, but buried beneath those offenses, they have a couple good points. I do need to take a break, and at some point, I have to get Rhett’s project done. But the idea of taking two weeks off from my regular Friday West work when I’m on the verge of losing it is, frankly, terrifying.
Of course, none of them know about that—not even Bea. Only Rhett does. And now I have to spend two weeks alone with him in the middle of nowhere. What they don’t realize is they’re forcing me to face the thing I need a break from the most.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll see it.”
Bea shifts the car back into drive, and after two more minutes on the increasingly bumpy dirt road, she reaches a gate, which Sadie jumps out and swings open, closing it before we pull away. We follow the road around the base of a low hill, revealing the unmistakable shape of an Airstream trailer, the last light of the setting sun reflecting off the rounded silver top as Rhett swings open the long oval door. He steps down onto a small wooden staircase, wearing a gray t-shirt, torn jeans, a dark blue rangers baseball cap, and a self-satisfied smile.
“You thought a trailer was a stunning, beautiful place for me to rest?” I ask.
“Actually, I only saw pictures of the landscape,” Allie’s mouth pulls into a wide-mouthed, apologetic grin.
“Isn’t that the coolest option as far as trailers go?” Sadie asks. “I think it’s awesome.” Then you stay here.
Rhett opens my door the second Bea has the car in park.
“You have any trouble finding the place?” he asks as I ignore the hand he offers to help me out of the car and walk past him toward the trailer.
“Your directions were excellent,” Bea responds. All three of my friends start telling Rhett how beautiful the property is. It is stunning out here. Not a power line or a building in sight I think as I walk away to inspect my home for the next two weeks.
The trailer doesn’t look like it’s moved often. Bistro lights are strung up all the way around the perimeter of a wide paver-filled patio that more than triples the living space. There is a fire pit in the center, surrounded by Adirondack chairs, a large daybed, and a picnic table—presumably all crafted by Rhett. I resist the urge to inspect the details. The wooden staircase that leads up to the door is far sturdier than whatever came standard with the trailer, complete with a wooden handrail. And, as a finishing touch, there are two tacky, plastic pink flamingos standing sentry on either side of it.
“How long have you had it?” Sadie asks, her voice carrying over the short distance between the car and me.
“Bought it a few years back. Towed it out here from Texas right after New Year’s,” Rhett responds.
Crossing my arms, I lean back against the picnic table as I watch the sun disappear in the distance. Two weeks.
“Do you hate me?” Allie asks, stepping in close and speaking quietly enough that no one else can hear.
I take a deep, grounding breath. “Ask me again in the morning.”
She laughs and when she wraps her arm around me in a hug, I can’t help the little smile that curves on my lips.
“Where are her bags?” Rhett asks, followed by the sound of the trunk opening. This is really happening.