Page 53 of Never the Best

He grinned. “You inspire me, Pearl, to be a better man. You always have.”

He had rendered me speechless.

“Once”—he looked uncomfortable as he tucked his hands in his pockets—“the dust settles, so to speak, do you think…we could…you know?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He smiled.

I sighed. I did know.

“Let’s wait for the dust to settle first,” I quavered.

Instead of replying, this time, he brushed his lipsagainst mine, soft and deliberate. A spark shot through me, sharp and unexpected, leaving a sizzle in its wake—one I hadn’t felt in a long time. It caught me off guard. I hadn’t had sex since moving back to Savannah, and the idea of swiping through Tinder or Bumbl, and stumbling across someone I knew, was mortifying. I was just horny, I decided, which made far more sense than the earth shifting beneath me simply from his touch.

“Let the dust settle, Rhett,” I whispered, unlocking my door with shaking hands. I shut the door on his face, not bothering to invite him in. I had to process this shift—even if it was one that I’d been secretly hoping for.

I sank onto the couch.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let Rhett affect me like this. But now that he was free, now that the possibility of apossibilityofusloomed, I didn’t know how to stop my thoughts from spiraling. And then there was that stupid kiss.

Oh my God!

That had rattled my brain for sure.

CHAPTER 19

Rhett

It was Sunday, and I knew I’d have to face the music at my parents’ house soon enough. I’d been bracing myself for the final showdown there, but I was completely caught off guard when my father showed up unannounced. I should’ve known—this was classic George Vanderbilt, always appearing when you were least ready for him.

I opened the door when he rang the bell as I was home alone, despite my mother’s constant nagging about why I hadn’t hired a full staff to maintain the house.

Sure, I had a team of gardeners who kept the grounds in shape and someone who came by to check on the essentials—smoke detectors, light bulbs, and things like that—but I didn’t have a live-in staff. I did have a housekeeper who came in the mornings and left in the afternoons. She kept the place clean, made sure my clothes were laundered, and put away the groceries I ordered online on delivery days.

I cooked my meals and handled most of my affairs, and the only reason I needed even the help I had was because the house was massive. Ostentatious, unwieldy, and as much of a burden as it was a legacy. It was the family home. And yet, every time I looked at it, the thought crept in:What the hell am I supposed to do with this place?Can I get rid of it?

“Son.” He stepped past me into my house without waiting for an invitation.

“Good morning, sir,” I replied, barely suppressing a sigh as I shut the door behind him.

I thought about Pearl’s little cottage as my father and I walked to the family room; a giant fucking space with every piece of designer furniture you could imagine. My mother had decorated this house—no wonder it felt like a mausoleum.

“Would you like some coffee?” I asked politely when he was seated on one of the sofas, manspreading like he owned the place, which he didn’t, not anymore.

George Vanderbilt was all about the show, and he sat, exuding his overbearing glory, dressed, at eight in the fucking Savannahsummermorning, in a crisp navy blazer, white shirt, and gold cufflinks that gleamed with what I mused was disapproval since I was still in my running gear.

“I don’t want coffee,” he snapped, looking more pissed than a cat in a rainstorm. “I want to know what in the hell is going on with you and Josie.”

So, it hadn’t taken long for Josie to rally the troops. At least he hadn’t shown up last night.Small mercies!

“I spoke with Suellen this morning,” he continued, hisvoice cold. “Josie is devastated, Rhett. She told Suellen that you’re havin’ doubts. How could you have blindsided her with this nonsense?”

“I am nothaving doubts,” I corrected him. “I’m damn certain that I’m not marrying her.”

I decided not to sit, refusing to let him think this was some kind of leisurely chat. Not a chance. Instead, I leaned against the wall, casual but deliberate, my posture toeing the line between ease and defiance. He wasn’t used to seeing me like this, and I caught the flicker of confusion and surprise on his face. To be fair, I was a little confused and surprised myself.

I’d been raised to respect my elders—to nod, smile, and stay polite no matter what. And for most of my life, I’d followed those rules without question. But somewhere along the way, I realized respect had to be a two-way street. If my so-called elders expected me to marry a woman I couldn’t stand just to uphold their sense of tradition, then maybe they weren’t so deserving of my respect after all.

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