Page 58 of Barbed Wire Fences
It only takes a few seconds before the door swings open, and there he is—spatula in hand, apron with the wordsKiss the Chef!tied neatly around his waist, light brown hair tousled, hazel eyes more a shade of green than brown today.
His smile is wide and the way the golden hour light dances across his eyes reminds me just how much his features have matured. He waves the spatula in his hand, the veins and muscles in his biceps flexing with each pass before he breaks into a wider grin when he notices me checking him out.
“Hey Jael. Glad you found the place, come on in.”
I step inside the entry way and take a quick scan of the place before my eyes drop back to him in his ridiculous get-up.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
He gestures to his outfit which makes me realize he’s not wearing a shirt underneath that thin bit of apron fabric that’s hardly covering his strong pecs and abs. My mouth waters, and it isn’t from the smell of the food being cooked.
“Making pancakes and bacon for you.” His grin deepens. “I figured since you slept so long, you probably haven’t had timeto eat breakfast, but now it’s also past lunch, and so since we’re approaching dinner, I made a bunch of different things so you can choose which of the three meals you’d like to indulge in.”
My heart stutters, almost unsure how to process what Rhett just said, before it kicks into overdrive, pounding against my ribcage. That’s the sweetest most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me, and I don’t think I deserve it.
The thought settles in, and a bitter truth follows right behind it. Christopher never cared when I worked back-to-back twelve-hour shifts and was too tired to eat the next day. Christopher never made date plans, I did.AndChristopher never cooked for me.
Not once, in all the time that we were together, did he ever take the initiative to make the meal. And even if he had, I could almost guarantee it would’ve been chicken parmesan. His favorite thing to eat, not mine. And let’s be honest, he’d probably have eaten most of it anyway leaving me with the scraps.
I let my eyes drift back to Rhett, taking him in properly this time. He’s wearing dark navy jogger sweatpants that sit snug on his strong waist. Underneath the silly apron he’s wearing I can see the hint of dark chest hair that must cover his whole front, dipping down into his waistband. His biceps bulge under the strain of the fabric and it reminds me of how I used to watch him when he worked on his old truck. Back then he’d been a young man, tinkering around and learning, now I can almost guarantee he’d know exactly what he’s doing with confidence.
His facial hair is neatly trimmed, but what really catches my attention is his hair—it’s longer than it used to be, like he’s letting it grow out since I’ve been back in town. It suits him, frames his face in a way that makes him even more attractive than I remembered.
He’s always been handsome to me, but this Rhett? This grown-up, responsible version, standing here in his cozy home, cooking dinner as a date idea without any prompting? This Rhett who’s thoughtful in ways that tug at parts of me I’d nearly forgotten existed? I don’t know how to handle him.
My gaze darts away because if I keep staring, I’m not sure we’ll even make it through dinner without me throwing caution and all my defenses out the window. And my heart can’t handle another rejection like what he gave me in Lainey’s basement.
Instead, I focus on the space around me, taking in the details of his home.
It’s even more beautiful on the inside than it looked from the outside, the kind of place that makes you want to sink into it and stay for a while. The layout is completely open concept, with the kitchen taking center stage. A large marble island stretches across the space, cluttered with dishes from his unfocused prepping. Eggs cooked in what looks like a dozen different ways, creamy pasta dishes, and even a perfectly browned meatloaf are perched there like a feast waiting to be devoured.
To the right of the kitchen is what I assume is his main living area. A big, unused fireplace serves as the focal point, with an ornate piece of artwork hanging above it—though on closer inspection, I realize it doubles as a sleek, modern TV. A large, white L-shaped couch anchors the room, its plush cushions inviting enough to sink into for hours. The carpet beneath it is a soft cream shade that somehow manages to feel both elegant and cozy, tying the whole space together.
It’s not what I expected at all, this blend of modern sophistication and warmth. A massive upgrade from the digs that we grew up in back in our trailer park. But this is Rhett’shome. And the thought of him living here alone, in this spacethat’s so perfectly him after everything we’ve been through, makes something in my chest ache that feels a lot like pride.
Pride for him that he figured it out, even if I haven’t yet.
It feels like he moved forward with his life, found success in his career, planted roots in our town, and all the while I’ve been fumbling back in Virginia to move forward for ten years.
I thought I’d built up my career and established myself at the hospital there, only to quit that for a traveling opportunity because of a guy who I’m not sure I even liked. And that guy that I thought I was in love with, a guy I trusted enough to get engaged to, disappointed me. I’ve been running for years, never settling anywhere. I wonder if Rhett sees just how much of a mess I am.
I shake my head, telling myself not to spiral into self-pity because despite my broken engagement and shifting career, I’ve built a great life for myself in Virginia, and I have a lot to be grateful for.
I break the tension between us.
“So, this is your house? It’s incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this area before.”
He nods as he moves to the stove and flips a pancake he was cooking before plating it and bringing it over to the island. I take a seat at one of the stools to watch him work.
“A lot of the newer builds in town are out here. I designed this one while I was in trade school, but once I started my own business and saved up for a bit, I finally got to bring it to life. It’s still a work in progress. I’m in the middle of making a man-made lake in the backyard with a dock that’ll be sealed in so it can double as a lake and pool. They call them ‘natural ponds.’ Pools that look like ponds or lakes.”
“Wow, that’s incredible,” I say. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“Here,” he hands me one of the empty plates stacked to the side. I have no idea why there’s a stack there, I don’t think he’s expecting any more guests but when I look at his hand and see it shake slightly, I realize, he’s nervous and that makes me nervous because what the hell does Rhett have to be nervous about?
He’s the kindest, most thoughtful man I know, and somehow, he’s managed to be wildly successful at everything he touches. Meanwhile, I’m the one sitting here a hot mess. I’m the one on a date with a guy who’s always been so far out of my league it’s laughable—I was just too blind, too young, too stupid to see it back then. Or maybe I always knew and that’s why I pursued someone like Owen who I knew wouldn’t treat me well.
“What do you want to drink? I know it’s breakfast for you,” he says softly, his eyes holding mine like he can read every messy thought that’s flickering across my face.
