And the moment they’d just shared was without a doubt the most passionate of her life. She wanted more. But above everything else, Rainey wanted to love him.
Does that mean I already love him? She held her breath at the thought. I can’t love him.
She couldn’t even allow herself to answer the question. Yet she couldn’t deny how much she ached. Loving him would be incredibly easy. And if things were different and she could have him for good, she would love him well.
Rainey pictured a Saturday morning in a fantasy future. She’d make him waffles with powdered sugar for breakfast, and they’d go the flea market on I-49 in search of choice vinyl albums and organic yarn. Rainey would never complain about how much money he spent on music, and in turn, he would never complain about how balls of yarn could be found in every corner of the house. They’d play his maddening games in the car on the drive home, and then make love all afternoon. She’d learn to cook his favorite Asian dishes, and they’d share a glass of wine on the front porch every night.
Jacques voice on the phone pulled her out of her reverie.
“…yes, Gilchrist… G-I-L-C-H-R-I-S-T…Yes, just the one night.” He glanced over to see Rainey watching him, and his lopsided grin was like a stealth assault. Her heart pounded with an intensity she couldn’t name. “We’re about ten minutes away, and we just got caught in this storm, so we’re soaking wet. Would our room be ready when we arrive?”
She watched Jacques listen to the person on the line while she could only focus on the words our room.
They’d be sharing a room. Again. Of course, they’d be sharing a room again. It was what she’d expected and looked forward to when she awoke that morning. But a lot had changed since that morning.
Jacques frowned at her. “You okay?” he mouthed. Rainey’s eyes widened, and she nodded. Did he have to notice everything? Every thought that crossed her mind?
“Yes…Great…That’d be great…See you soon.” Jacques ended the call and started the car. “I found us a B&B that allows pets.” He gave her a self-satisfied smile.
“Oh… okay. Good.”
His smile grew, and his eyes took on a wicked cast. “And we’re married.”
“Huh?” Rainey’s mouth fell open with the sound.
He could only chuckle. “Just go with it. The owners seemed sorta… old-fashioned.”
“O-okay,” she managed.
Ten minutes later, near the center of town, they pulled up to a deep-green Georgian style home with a copper awning above the front door. The placard on the black wrought iron gate that separated the house’s front garden from the sidewalk read Copper House. Built in 1829. Below was another that read This property has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places by the U.S. Department of the Interior.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but since Rainey was already soaked, there was no point in outrunning the drops, so she paused to read the signs as Jacques swung the gate open. She glanced up at him. “How much is this?”
Jacques carried their bags and didn’t meet her eyes when he answered. “About the same as last night,” he said with a shrug.
Rainey stepped into the courtyard. “Well, I hope you know I’m paying this time.”
She heard the gate clink shut behind her as Jacques chuckled. She turned around and narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s so funny?”
Jacques shook his head, his mouth twitching despite his best efforts. “No, dear. We’re married, remember? And we’re registered under the name Gilchrist, so…” He gave her a helpless shrug, and Rainey felt her jaw clench.
“You did that on purpose,” she said through gritted teeth, but she was fighting, too, to keep from smiling. What was it about him and his 1950s’ sensibilities?
Jacques shook his head, losing the battle of his smile. “No, I didn’t, but I’m not complaining either.”
Before she could growl a response, the front door of the B&B opened, and a very round, white-haired woman called out a greeting. “Welcome to Copper House! Y’all must be Mr. and Mrs. Gilchrist.”
The woman’s last four words sucked the air from Rainey’s lungs. She quickly tried to mask her reaction, covering her opened mouth with her hand, but it felt like someone had just offered her a gift. A gift so precious it almost couldn’t be accepted.
She felt a blush stain her cheeks, and she tried her best not to look at Jacques, though she could feel his eyes on her.
“Y’all come in out of the rain!” the woman urged, and Rainey realized she’d come to a halt just shy of the house’s copper awning. She darted inside with Archie, and the dog made a show of shaking off in rare canine form. Water sprayed all over the welcome mat, her, Jacques, and their hostess’s feet.
“Archie!” she squealed. But their hostess only chuckled.
“No harm done.” She turned to a chair by the door and hoisted up a stack of towels. “Willard said you’d been caught in the storm. I’m afraid your room’s not quite ready yet, but we do have a fire in the parlor where you can keep warm.”
“Thank you, Mrs…?” Jacques began.
“Please, call me Dottie,” their hostess offered.
“Thank you, Dottie,” Jacques said, taking a towel off the stack and handing it to Rainey. He took the second, draped it over his shoulders and then knelt with the third to dry Archie.
“Jacques, I can do that,” Rainey protested.
He just looked up at her and grinned that merciless grin. “No, honey, I’ve got this,” he said, scrubbing the towel over her wet dog.
Jacques was enjoying their situation too much, but Rainey had to admit that the endearment made her knees go a little weak. The same seemed to be true for their hostess because she threw her palm over her heart.
“My lands! Young love!” she swooned. Then her eyes met Rainey’s. “Enjoy it, dear. In forty years, you’ll be bickering over who’s going to unstop the toilet in the Derby Room.”
Jacques spluttered a laugh at this, and Rainey, on the brink of hilarity, wrapped the towel around her shoulders.
“Come on. The parlor’s this way. I’ll get you checked in over there.”
They followed Dottie through a door to their right and passed a sprawling staircase that was polished to a high shine.
Jacques walked beside her, and as they cleared the hallway, he wrapped an arm around her waist, leaned down to her ear, and whispered in a sultry voice. “Rainey, no matter what happens, I promise I’ll always unstop the toilet in the Derby Room.”
Her laugh erupted as a humiliating snort that seemed to echo against all the polished wood, and she collapsed against Jacques as her eyes watered and she ached for breath. He tightened his arm around her and practically had to drag her along behind their hostess.
“Mrs. Gilchrist, get a hold of yourself,” he whispered again, mock scolding.
But this time, instead of tipping her further into hysterics, his words quelled the storm. Hearing him call her Mrs. Gilchrist in that seductive whisper left her weak-kneed for an entirely different reason.
“Here we are,” Dottie chirped. “Get close to the fire while I get your paperwork sorted.”
She left them, and Archie, recognizing a warm and comfortable spot, immediately ran up to the hearthrug, turned two quick three-sixties and flopped down with grateful groan.
The fire was warm, and Rainey concentrated on absorbing its heat instead of glancing up at the irresistible, incomparable man by her side.
It’s going to hurt like hell when he leaves.
Fifteen minutes later — after Mr. and Mrs. Jacques Gilchrist were officially registered guests at The Copper House Bed & Breakfast, Dottie’s husband Willard led them upstairs to their room. When they saw that plate on their door read Bluegrass Room and the one next door read Derby Room, Jacques mimed wiping sweat off his brow, and Rainey found herself fighting giggles all over again.
Their host opened the door and revealed gleaming wood floors, a dark wood four-poster bed, and tucked into one corner, a
Ben Franklin fireplace with a blaze already banked. The room, painted a robin’s egg blue with cream trim, was appointed with all the period furnishings and accessories that would make the officials at the National Register of Historic Places fairly quiver with glee.
“Wow,” she uttered, breathless. White-haired Willard carried in their bags, and as he did, Rainey leaned into Jacques and whispered, “This place couldn’t be the same price as the Best Western.”
Jacques just shrugged as he moved past her. “Close enough.”
Before she could utter a word of protest, Dottie bustled in behind her carrying a silver tray. “Here you go, dears. Mint Juleps,” she said, thrusting the tray at Rainey. “We normally serve these in the parlor, but seeing as you’re probably ready to get out of those wet clothes, I thought I’d bring them up here.”
“Thank… you,” Rainey said, quite certain now that The Copper House was far beyond Best Western’s price point. But she couldn’t put up a fight now, and obviously Jacques knew what he was doing. She could always find a way to pay him back later. She picked up one of the pewter glasses full of amber liquid, crushed ice, and sprigs of mint. “Here you go, honey,” Rainey said, batting her eyelashes at Jacques.
She meant, of course, to make him laugh, but she watched his eyes blaze, his chest expand, and his Adam’s apple bob before he took the glass from her, muttering his thanks. Rainey realized the endearment left him clearly affected. A wave of tenderness rose inside her.
And it struck Rainey then that she’d been remarkably selfish over the last four weeks.
Her eyes followed Jacques as if she were seeing him anew. And not with the eyes of someone who was crippled with fear. But as someone who cared deeply for him.
Rainey grabbed the remaining cocktail off the tray and took a healthy swallow. The drink was cold. And strong. Strong enough to set her choking.
“Careful,” Jacques cautioned, stepping closer and patting her on the back. “That’s pretty much straight Bourbon.”
“Straight from Bourbon County,” Dottie added with pride.
“Haaghh!” Rainey rasped, breathing fire.
Jacques’s mouth twitched and his eyes lost their look of concern. He clinked his glass against hers. “Cheers, baby.” And then she watched him take a sip, his gaze never leaving hers.
To keep from staring at him, Rainey took another sip. This one more tempered, and she managed to swallow without coughing.
“Well,” Willard announced, striding toward his wife. He claimed the empty tray from her before turning to face them. “If y’all have everything you need, we’ll wish you a good evenin’.”
Next to him, Dottie nodded. “There’s fresh towels and his and hers bathrobes in the lavatory, and when you get hungry, you’ll find plenty places right on this street where you can get some good eats,” she said brightly. Then she clasped her hands together, her eyes twinkling. “Breakfast is at seven. Tomorrow, it’s strawberry pancakes, eggs any way you like, breakfast potatoes, and a melon medley.”
Rainey’s eyes rounded at this heavenly piece of news. “Really?” she gushed. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jacques suppress a chuckle.
Dottie gave her a slight frown. “And coffee and tea, of course,” she added.
Rainey nodded. “Of course. That sounds… that sounds wonderful.”
Their hostess’s face split with a smile. “Best meal of the day!” she sang.
Beside her, Jacques definitely snickered.
“Well, goodnight then,” Willard boomed, grabbing his wife by the elbow. “C’mon, Dot. Let’s leave the young people alone.” And with that, the older couple bustled out of the room, closing the door behind them.
For an awkward moment, Rainey kept her eyes on that closed door because she was sure if she turned around, her gaze would whip like a magnet to the four-poster bed. To stall, she took another sip of her potent drink.
“Have you seen the bathroom?” Jacques asked behind her. Rainey turned, glad for the distraction.
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
He motioned her over. “Check it out.”
Rainey stepped past him, stuck her head through the bathroom door, and gasped. The vintage tub with its high back, clawed feet, and exposed plumbing was a thing of beauty.
“Gorgeous.”
“I think so too,” Jacques whispered behind her, making Rainey jump. She spun around to find him grinning down at her. “Why don’t you take a bath and get into some dry clothes? I think your lips are turning blue.”
Rainey rolled her eyes. “They are not. Besides, you found this place. You should go first.”
Jacques just shook his head. “Not happening. Besides, I missed a call from Kate earlier,” he said holding up his phone. Then he tilted his head toward the left. “There’s a balcony, and I think it stopped raining. I was going to take my authentic Mint Julep out there and call her back.”
He nodded then toward the tub. “Take a bath.”
Rainey realized he wasn’t merely suggesting, and arguing probably wouldn’t get her anywhere anyway. Besides, she was still wet and cold, and the tub did look divine…
“Okay, I’ll go first.”
Rainey reclined in the exquisite tub, rubbing French-milled, rose scented soap into a plush, white washcloth. The heat of the water had chased away the chills from her drenched afternoon, and the bourbon in her authentic Mint Julep had teased the tension from her shoulders.
She’d managed to wash her hair under the arched spigot, and she’d rung it out and tucked it up in a bun. The bed and breakfast was remarkably quiet. The only sound were the splashes and droplets she made in the bath, the occasional pop from the fireplace in their bedroom, and the muffled sound of Jacques’s deep voice on the balcony.
A frosted window on the exterior wall must have faced out onto it because Rainey was sure Jacques was just there. Just beyond the wall and opaque glass. He sounded happy, and Rainey immediately recalled the look on his face when she’d called him honey.
The look had been a tangling of startled surprise and unmitigated joy. And it had stilled her down to her soul. The moment had been a revelation for her, and now, alone in the tub, she held it close to examine it.
From the instant she met Jacques in her driveway, he had shown her his signature kindness and compassion. In the first hour of knowing him, he’d proven to her he was someone special, someone she needed to explore. Someone rare. But as soon as she’d discovered that he — like her father — was a musician, her guard had come up. And when she realized that he — like her father — was destined for fame and success, she’d stopped thinking of Jacques, this rare, special person she needed to explore, and started thinking of herself. To protect herself. To shield herself from pain and disappointment.
And as Rainey sat in the bathtub in a B&B in a Kentucky town where one good-hearted man had driven her — in search of her brother in order to save her sister — the truth, sudden and profound, struck Rainey hard. Jacques wasn’t like her father.
She was.
Dylan Reeves always ran from anything painful. Anything difficult. He’d never been faithful to his marriage vows. That would mean putting up with the ache of temptation and the burden of someone else’s happiness. He never placed the needs of his wife and children above his own. He slinked away from even the slightest emotional responsibility, always quick to avoid a confrontation that might lead to grief or even discomfort. And when grief had come to Dylan Reeves — had come to all of them — he pulled away completely, leaving the rest of his family to manage their broken hearts on their own. He hadn’t been there to fight for any of them. He hadn’t fought for his marriage, and he hadn’t fought for Rainey’s mental health. It was clear to her he’d never fought for Ray Charles. And he wasn’t going to fight for Holi. He wasn’t going to be by her side through whatever lay ahead. It didn’t eat him up inside that she could be taken from them in just two short years. Because if he stayed far enough away, nothing could touch him.
No, if there was any chance that Dylan Reeves might have to feel pain, he’d cut and run. And with a crushing sense of shame, Rainey understood that when it came to Jacques, she was doing exactly the same thing.
That look of pure, unexpected joy on Jacques’s face had somehow awoken her to the truth. All this time, she had been so worried about her own heart that she hadn’t paid attention to what she was doing to his.
And he deserved so much more than her fear and selfishness.
Besides, what was her excuse? Out of the two of them, was her past really that much worse? His mother had abandoned him. His father was in jail — had been behind bars for much of his life. Jacques had plenty of reasons to act out of fear and selfishness. And yet he didn’t. He’d sought Rainey even after she’d pushed him away, and when she still wouldn’t give in to the urgings of her heart, he’d given her his friendship.
“What a fool I am.”
As soon as the words left her lips, Rainey heard the balcony door open as Jacques stepped into their room.
“Rainey? You still in the tub?” he called.
She stood, water spilling down her body. “Yeah, just getting out,” she called back.
“No rush,” he said, and she heard the zipper on his duffle bag. “I was gonna just change real quick and go find us something to eat. You take your time—”
“Wait!” She yanked a towel off the nearby rack, wrapped it around her body, and stepped out of the tub.
“You wanna come with me?” Jacques asked before seeming to reconsider. “Maybe you should stay here. It just started raining again.”
“Then why are you going out?” she asked, hoping to stall him as she tried to dry her legs.
“Because we need to eat,” he said dryly. “I’ll be right back.”
She shimmied the towel along her back and tried a different tack. “What did Kate have to say?” she hollered through the door.
“I didn’t get her. I was talking to Pal.”
“Oh?” she asked, rubbing down her shoulders and belly. “How’s he?”
“He’s fine… Rainey, are you okay?”
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