Page 18 of I Wish He Would

Rhett orders a flat white, and the barista curtsies to him before leaving to make our drinks.

I bite back a laugh. “Does that happen often?” I ask once she’s out of earshot.

“Being treated like I’m royalty?” He chuckles. “No.”

“Country royalty, maybe.”

Rhett quirks a brow. “Ah, so you know who I am?”

“I do.” My eyes go wide. “Not ‘I do’ like I’m marrying you, but I do know who you are. I promise I’m not some massive fan.” I pinch my eyes shut. “That’s not to say that I don’t think your songs are good, because they are. You’re great. I just meant I’m not some psycho, stalker superfan.” I press my lips firmly together before I can dig myself into a hole too deep to climb out of.

When I finally meet his gaze again, he’s wearing an amused smirk. “I don’t know. It sounds like you might want to marry me.”

I blow out a breath. “How can you be so chill about everything?”

Rhett shrugs. “Maybe it’s the small-town country boy in me. But that’s really all I am—a country boy who had some luck with his voice and a guitar.”

“Some might call that talent.”

“I call it the unstoppable force that is my manager.”

I laugh and relax a little in my seat. I don’t want to jinx anything, but as far as first dates go, this one seems to be going well—aside from my little word-vomit moment. Conversation flows naturally with Rhett like a stream after days of nonstop rain.

The barista returns with our drinks before slipping away. I take a sip, and it’s divine. The perfect hint of sweet while still being able to taste the espresso.

“I want to apologize again for being late. There’s this kid in Nashville who’s waiting on a heart transplant and had to miss my concert. He posted a video singing one of my songs, so I thought it would be fun to surprise him in the children’s hospital. I stayed a little too long and then had to fly here.”

Normally, I’d think a guy telling me a story like that was full of it. Or that he was trying to make himself sound like some sort of saint. But I don’t feel either of those things from Rhett. Everything about him comes across as genuine, from the way he talks to the soft smile he wears.

So, not only is this man insanely talented, but he talks about his charitable work with humility. He’s the kind of man a girl could dream about settling down with. Maybe the list of twenty questions will help me figure out if he’s that someone for me.

“I can’t fault you for that. I bet that was the best day of his life.”

Rhett runs a hand on the back of his neck. “Nah, it was one of the best of mine, though. Those are the moments I remember forever. Not being on stage but singing in a small room with fans, connecting over music.”

If I wasn’t sitting down, I’d be in need of a fainting couch. Because how is this real life? He's genuinely easy to talk to—and look at, for that matter. Rhett seems humble for a celebrity, though I guess that makes sense if he’s close with Griffin. He and Mallory did me a huge favor by pulling the strings so we could meet today.

“That’s beautiful.” I tap my gel manicure on my glass. “And here I was expecting you to say you were late because of traffic.”

He waves off the comment with a dramatic flourish. “I would never keep a beautiful woman waiting for something as ridiculous as traffic.”

I wait for some kind of internal reaction to him calling me beautiful. But there are no flutters, and my heart remains beating steadily. As for not making a woman wait because of traffic, I believe him. Rhett doesn’t seem like the kind of person to keep others waiting, if he can help it. I like that about him. That he doesn’t think his time is more important than others just because of his celebrity status.

“Of course not,” I say. “Obviously, other cars move out of the way when they see you coming.”

“Exactly.” His sea-blue eyes twinkle with amusement. “You understand.”

I guess now’s as good a time as any to weave in one of the questions to our conversation. “So, tell me. What inspired you to pursue country music?”

His eyes take on a far-off look, filled with nostalgia. “I was practically born with a guitar in my hands. My parents played country music in our home around the clock, so it’s honestly all I’ve ever known. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Once they learned I had a decent voice, they got me into guitar and vocal lessons. The rest is history.”

I can’t help but smile after hearing the passion in his words. “The world is better for it.”

“Thanks.” He sips his drink. “And what made you want to be a hairstylist?” Rhett shoots me a playful grin. “Please tell me it was the Kool-Aid.”

“How did you know?” I tease. “Truth is, in high school I was always the person straightening or curling all my friends’ hair at sleepovers. It turned into doing their hair for school dances. I loved being the reason someone had a bright smile on their face. The reason they felt more confident. So, when it was time to think about colleges and majors, one of my friends suggested cosmetology school, and it just felt right.” I cross my legs and smooth my hands along my Madewell linen pants, one of my favorite thrift finds. “I never looked back.”

“If your hair is any indication of your talent, I’d say you’re great at your job.”