Page 128
His jaw tightens. “What’d he have to say?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Cristina,” he says, his voice low with warning, “what did he say? Because I can promise right now whatever he said is a lie. Hell, the man lied the first time he met me.”
How do I explain that the magic I only just started accepting isn’t real? That maybe we aren’t real?
“He said . . . the competition was rigged for you and me.”
Rhett pauses as if making sure that’s all I’m going to say, and then he laughs. “Rigged? Hell, I couldn’t rig this thing if I tried. I didn’t even know it was gonna happen. Listen to me—everything we’ve won, we’ve won fair and square.”
I lift my eyes to meet his gaze.
“Every challenge we’ve dominated has been on us. How do you think we could’ve rigged the trust bridge?” His voice becomes playful. “And believe me, if there was one challenge I wanted to rig, it was that one.”
I smile in spite of myself, and Rhett squeezes my arms. “Cristina, I wouldn’t lie to you. No one’s helping us win because it’ll look good for the resort. Hell, I didn’t even want to be part of this competition, remember? We were supposed to lose, but we kept winning. Now, what does that say about us?”
“It says . . . it says this is bigger than just us.”
“That’s right. Do you think we could have rigged Clarice and Beau?”
“No,” I reply.
“Exactly. No one could’ve seen that relationship coming. They might end up winning the whole thing, but I sure hope not.”
My chest pulses. “You don’t?”
“No, I want us to win,” he announces.
I say what’s floating right on top of my heart. “I want us to win, too.”
“That’s my girl.” He strokes his thumb over my cheek. “Don’t let Jace get to you. He’s just pissed because he’s losing and no amount of cheating will help them win.”
I lay my head back on his chest and listen to the quiet beating of his heart. Rhett strokes my hair.
“Why don’t you cancel your first appointments in the morning, or see if someone else can take them?”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been working yourself too hard lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how early you arrive at the spa. You could use the rest.”
“Yeah, but it’s too late to move clients around now.”
“Then the day after next, take some time off. You’re gonna run yourself into the ground, and I don’t want to see that happen. I know you want to keep busy, to stop yourself from thinking about all the stuff you’ve buried deep. It’s fine for most people, but too much stress and your asthma flares.”
Shit. He’s right. He does know me. When did that happen?
But I realize Rhett didn’t compile this information overnight—he’s been cataloging me day by day, piece by piece, taking every clue I’ve given him and creating a mosaic little by little until the full picture formed.
“Okay,” I tell him, “I’ll move some clients around and give myself a break.”
“Thank you.” He kisses the top of my head. “You ready for some shut-eye?”
“I am.”
He snaps off the light and I lay there in the dark, my ear to his chest and Rhett quietly breathing.
He kisses the top of my head once more. “I love you, Cristina Palmer.”
