Page 61 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“That fucking prick…” His rage wasn’t scary. Instead, it felt like a balm on irritated skin, soothing me in ways that talking to my sister hadn’t achieved. “How dare he say a damn word to you? If he comes within ten feet…”

Rhett caught himself, looking away and taking one deep breath, then another. I watched him get a grip in real time before turning back my way, considerably calmer.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted that.

The way that muscle ticed in that firm jaw, forcing the hollows in his cheekbones to become more pronounced. The way he looked like he was ready to go Hulk smash seconds before turning to me, concern plain in his eyes. I soaked every bit of that in.

“You’ll what?” I asked.

“I’ll…” He swallowed hard. “Make sure he thinks twice about talking to you ever again. You don’t have to go out on another date with me ever, and that offer still stands. He’s a prick. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you and I would gladly make sure he doesn’t.”

“OK.”

That was a completely inadequate response, but I lost my ability to put words together the minute my eyes dropped down. Those full lips were pursed, tense with barely repressed anger, but as I stared, they softened. I wanted to trace the shape of them with my fingertips, not my eyes, feel the rasp of his stubble under them, and that feeling was as foreign as it was welcome. I wanted to tug Rhett’s head down, draw him closer and see what that fury transmuted into when I kissed him.

“OK.” He nodded and then turned towards the road, unaware of just how close I’d come to throwing myself at him. A few long breaths and I was back in control, not my hormones. His fingers tapped the steering wheel and then he eased the car back out onto the road. “The brewery. Heading to the brewery.”

I couldn’t help but smile as Rhett coached himself through what to do next. So I wasn’t the only one spacing out here. The motor hummed as we picked up speed, racing towards the brewery, but I liked to think at least part of him was right there with me, still sitting beside the road, wondering what to do next.

“So what else did he say?”

Rhett didn’t bother to specify who as his hand landed on the small of my back. He steered me towards the brewery, the two of us walking through the big open doorways. Before I could answer, a cloud of white fur came bounding over with a bark.

“Oh. My. God.” I was down on my knees, not giving a damn about the dress I’d put on, not when this cuteness existed. The dog sensed it had an easy target and barrelled up to me, pushing his head into my hands. “So soft!” I luxuriated in all that soft fur. “Rhett, you’ve got to give him a pat.”

He was watching me the entire time, an indulgent smile on his face. Before he could answer, a slightly harried woman appeared.

“Looks like you’ve met Hoppy,” she said. “Can I get the two of you a table?”

“Reservation under the name Romano,” he replied smoothly.

“Excellent.” She gestured for us to follow her, but I just wanted to hang out with Hoppy. “This way.” Hoppy obviously had the same idea, following hot on my heels as we walked over to our table. It was set up near one of the windows, away from the main bar, giving us a little privacy. “Now, can I start you off with some drinks? A beer perhaps?”

I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose. Beer was not my drink of choice, but evidently it was Rhett’s.

“What do you have on tap?” he asked.

“Pale ale, golden ale, stout…”

The woman startled to rattle off a list of words that made no sense to me at all.

“I’ll have a schooner of pale ale,” Rhett said before turning to me. “Katie?”

“Just a glass of Coke,” I replied, but then the woman and Hoppy started staring at me. The dog wagged its big plume of a tail, as if encouraging me to try some of the beer made in his name. “And what would you suggest beer wise for someone who doesn’t really drink it?”

“The hibiscus Saison is probably your best bet,” she replied. “Sweeter and fruitier than your usual bitter beers.”

“OK, I’ll try that.”

“You don’t have to drink beer,” Rhett said the minute she turned to get our drinks.

“You say that, but Hoppy has other ideas.” At the sound of his name, the dog jumped up, putting his paws on my lap. “You think I should have a beer, right?”

He gave a sharp bark in reply and then leaned in for more scratches.

“So what else did Dave say?” Rhett’s dark tone was in stark contrast to Hoppy’s Samoyed smile. “If he upset you, Katie.”

“He didn’t.” I met his intent gaze over the dog’s head. “He can’t. I think we can both agree that Dave is an idiot and isn’t worth a second of either of our time. Anyway, do you want to talk about your ex on this date?” He shook his head. “Thought not. So…”

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