At least he is.
Anything to prove to Crew there’s a limit on whatever fucked up situation we’re in. Lines I need to draw before they start blurring.
I pass the joint off to Sage, who’s sitting a couple of cushions over. I’ve only had a couple of hits, so it’s not enough to give me a buzz, but at least it’ll get Rhett off my back when I need him to sit here and pretend to be boyfriend-of-the-year for five seconds.
“Happy?” I force a smile.
“Don’t be like that, babe.” He plants his hand on my thigh.
It’s friendly. Appropriate given the relationship we’re supposed to be in. And still it makes me want to shed my skin and escape.
Crew is the only man whose touch has had the opposite effect. And as his eyes move in my direction and drop to his brother’s hand on my leg, I’m desperate for him to know that.
Not that I’ll ever admit it. My body’s reaction is just that—physical. What I feel for Crew doesn’t change the fact that we spend more time bickering than getting along. He’s wildfire in sagebrush, and I burn hot enough already to not need more fuel to my flame.
“I’m just looking out for you.” Rhett smiles, and it’s genuine, which makes me feel guilty for pouting over a joint.
“I know, I’m sorry.” I force a smile.
He pats my knee before adjusting the collar on his polo shirt. He’s out of place in this scene. A mess of band Tees, tattoos, pot, and booze. A metal mix playing in the background. He couldn’t possibly fit less in this world.
It’s the same way I don’t fit in his.
At least he’s here, establishing our middle ground and pretending we like each other. We need to get better at it if we’re going to get married soon.
Married.
My stomach twists again, and I think I might be sick.
A laugh from across the room sparks like lightning, drawing me to the sound. Maren’s blonde friend has her arms wrapped around Crew’s, and she’s whispering something in his ear. He maintains his hold on the island as he listens, but the entire scene makes my skin itch.
Just because I offered to sleep with him doesn’t mean I like him as anything more than someone I wouldn’t mind screwing me into oblivion. So why does the thought of another woman touching him make me want to peel her skin from her bones?
Rhett’s phone buzzes, drawing my attention back to him, and I realize he’s also staring at his brother, his eyes darting between us.
I wonder if he sees it—the tension—the changein the air.
I wonder if he cares, or if it’s a relief to absolve him of guilt, because his face doesn’t reveal anything.
His phone buzzes again, finally breaking him from his thoughts. And when he pulls it from his pocket, I catch the nameAngelinaon the screen before he turns it so I can’t see what he’s reading.
Angelina.
I bet she’s pretty. Maybe she’s even nice. She definitely doesn’t have tattoos or dual-toned hair. I bet she would like whatever boring place Rhett would take her to for dinner. She’s probably the girl he deserves, someone who won’t have to force themself to be another person to make him happy.
I wonder if Rhett cares I’ll never be that.
He’s the one convinced marrying the preacher’s daughter is the key to his own holy path. Right before I turned twenty-three, he helped set the plan in motion by asking me out. And even if he doesn’t agree with how I look or my choice of profession, he’s set on the fact that him marrying Ryan’s daughter is the only way to win over the most devoted members of Eternal Light.
The faintest smirk climbs Rhett’s cheeks as he types out a quick text, before shoving his phone back in his pocket.
“The church?” I pretend to sound interested since I probably should be.
“Sorry.” He pats his pocket. “Things are hectic while we iron out the details for the move. And the camera crew just sent the schedule for the new docuseries.”
“I thought they were only streaming one sermon.”
“They were.” Once more he drapes his arm over the couch behind me. “But after they came for the initial interview, they decided they need more.”