Page 54 of Where We Call Home

Rhodes blinked at me, then back at the TV. “This is chaos.”

“This isart,” I corrected, tossing a popcorn kernel into my mouth.

I smirked to myself. Rhodes had started the night scrolling on his phone, throwing casual glances at the screen, but every glance lasted a little longer until he was hooked. He’d never admit it, I could just tell.

I hit play and resumed the show, determined not to pause again even when he felt the urge to chime in because I knew he was bound to.

We sat in comfortable silence as the show carried on in the background. His phone was flat on his chest as he relaxed back, his hands behind his head.

After dinner, he’d helped with the dishes, we shared some casual small talk, and then he went off to shower. I thought maybe he’d head to his room and call it an early night since he had to go to the ranch in the morning, instead, he sat with me on the couch.

We shared parts of a blanket, which should have felt intimate, however it felt natural.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rhodes said, leaning back. “They spend, what, a week making clothes?”

“Three days,” I replied, holding up three fingers without looking away from the screen.

“Three days?” he scoffed. “To make outfits people either cry about or insult, and then some guy in a hat tells them, ‘You’re out’? That’s the whole show?”

I gasped, clutching my chest in exaggerated horror. “Excuse me?Some guy in a hat? That’s alegendyou’re talking about.”

“A legend?” Rhodes raised an eyebrow. “For telling people their clothes suck?”

“For revolutionizing the industry,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And it’s not just about the clothes. It’s about the drama, the artistry, the?—”

“The drama,” he cut in, smirking. “Got it.”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, but he caught it, laughing.

“You’re such a guy.”

“And you’re way too into this.”

“I am not,” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s just a fun way to relax.”

“Uh-huh.” Rhodes glanced back at the screen. “So... who’s the guy in the fur vest? Is he supposed to look like that, or did he lose a bet?”

I groaned, his smirk was so damn cute. “That’s Bruno. He’s known for pushing boundaries.”

“Boundaries between what? Fashion and bad decisions?”

“You wouldn’t get it. Fashion isn’t just about clothes—it’s an art form.” I nudged his leg with my foot.

Rhodes grabbed my foot and pulled it into his lap, his hands beginning to massage it in that infuriatingly wonderful way he had before. I tried to focus on the TV, but the man was a distraction.

He studied me for a moment, his teasing grin softening. “You really like this stuff, huh?”

My cheeks warmed and I nodded. “I do. It’s kind of inspiring. Watching people pour their hearts into something they care about, even if it’s ridiculous sometimes, you know?”

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I get that. I mean, it’s not my thing, but... I get it.”

Our eyes met, and something about the sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten. “Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime,” he said, leaning back. “Now, tell me—if I were a designer, what would I make?”

I laughed, my stomach shaking. “Oh, that’s easy. A basic black T-shirt and jeans to show off your ass.”

The words were out before I could stop them. My hand flew to my mouth as my cheeks flamed.

---