It sounds like she’s having some sort of internal argument. She looks adorably pissed off, and one side of my mouth tips up in amusement.
“Rhett. I’m not in the mood for our bickering right now,” she says when she glances up and catches me watching her.
“Yeah. Fair. It sounds like you’re doing an excellent job of bickering with yourself.”
Her lips part, but no noise comes out. It’s fucking distracting. Distracting enough that I just stand here, propped up against the fence post while she meanders toward me.
With a heavy sigh, her shoulders droop. “Can you just stop? Please.”
“Why?” I stretch my arms out to clasp the top board with my hands, because without something to grab, I might grab her. And that’s not what she needs right now.
She runs her hands through her hair, pulling it back tight in her fists and tugging at it. She looks agitated, but also defeated.
“I just...I’m trying to do a good job. I’m trying hard not to let anyone down. My dad. His business. You. It’s a lot of responsibility, and I kind of got tossed in the deep end with this gig.”
The crack in her voice and the exhaustion in her frame really hits me now. She’s only twenty-five, fresh out of school, and while I haven’t been making her life a living hell or anything, I can see how I haven’t been exactly helpful.
Summer gives so much of herself. Her dad. Her sister. Her stepmom. Everyone she meets.
Me.
But who the fuck is taking care of Summer?
She’s sunny, and happy, and cracks a joke in the face of adversity. But right now, she seems tired. And after everything she’s done for me, lending her strength seems like the most natural thing to do.
I let go of the fence post and hold my arms open wide, while crooking my fingers toward myself. “Come here.”
“That’s a bad idea.” She rolls her eyes and nibbles at her bottom lip, but I get the sense that’s mostly to chase away the glassiness shining in them. She makes me wait, but eventually, she steps into the cage of my arms, and I wrap them around her.
For the first moments she maintains a polite distance, but when I drop my head and let out a sigh against the crook of her neck, she melts closer. One arm slung over my shoulder while the other tentatively traces my ribs.
And I just hold her tighter.
She’s healthy, and strong, and resilient, and yet so fragile. She feels small in my arms, and the way she clutches at me borders on desperate. I wish I could ease all her hurt, all her worry, all her anxiety.
It’s almost like she doesn’t see what a force she is.
But I do.
I wish I could make her see that too.
I’m not sure how long we stand here, holding one another as the golden sun sinks below the hills behind us.
When she finally pulls back a bit, her eyes hold mine. And what I see there is something akin to confusion.
“I’m sorry I made your job harder today.” I say it, and I mean it. “I’ve spent so long fending for myself that it honestly just felt like a way to have some fun. I’m, well, I’m not accustomed to accounting for someone else.” It’s a sobering realization. I’m a man who’s been living his day-to-day life for what feels good, with little regard for those around me.
She nods, eyes dipping down to my mouth. “Can you just wait until you win it all to have some fun? Then you can do whatever you want. It’s not that long.”
My fingers pulse on her waist and I take my turn staring at her mouth. I groan. Whatever I want. What a tempting way of putting that.
Her chest rises and falls with some strain now. “Rhett. You can’t look at me like that,” she says breathily. “You really, really can’t.” Her eyes press shut, like she might be able to erase me from her mind.
“Why not?” My voice is all gravel as I soak up the pained expression on her face.
“Because it’s confusing.”
Like hell. I reach down and hitch her leg up, wrapping it around my waist. Right where it belongs.