by Miles, Ava
“How’s this?” Rhett asked, gesturing to his impromptu arrangement.
“Pretty good,” she said, and she meant it. Who knew Rhett Butler Blaylock had hidden wreath–making talents? Somehow he always managed to surprise her. “You’ve never told me much about your mother.”
His golden eyes finally rested on her for more than a few seconds. The pause in their conversation had her plucking at her green cashmere sweater.
“No, I haven’t. When we were together, I didn’t get the sense you wanted to talk about anything that personal.”
Her mind hearkened back to the hours of sweaty, passionate lovemaking they’d shared. They’d laughed together, yes. He’d chanted the Ole Miss fight song, “Hotty Toddy,” to her and had given her his Eli Manning jersey to wear to bed. But serious talk had been off limits. Especially since she’d made it clear to him that their secret relationship wasn’t going to be about anything but sex. Her first and only foray into that minefield of pleasure.
The kitchen chair framed her body when she sat down across from him at the table. His voice was edged with nostalgia, and since she wasn’t close to her own mother, she threw him a bone. “Maybe you can tell me about your mom while we work.”
Hope burned in his eyes. “That’s a mighty fine idea. So you already know my mama loves Gone With The Wind from my name. But what you don’t know…”
His words took her on a journey to another world. This was Rhett the man, the doting son. She’d seen so many sides to him: poker player, Mac’s friend, Dustin’s idol, lover of women, and then her own lover. But the man? His true essence? Well, she’d seen glimpses that had made her want to see more…
He’d been revealing more of himself to her since he’d returned in July, weakening her resolve, making the same darn hope she’d seen burn in his eyes simmer in her own.
But every time she saw him play poker at The Grand Mountain Hotel, Mac’s hotel, and her place of employment, her resolve strengthened. She could not become the wife of the wild Cowboy–on–Crack poker player, as Peggy used to call him. And he could not become Dustin’s stepdad.
Tonight none of that seemed to matter, though. She listened, enthralled while he told her stories about his childhood Christmases, sticking with the Hallmark Channel version rather than Oliver Twist, even though she knew he’d experienced some hard knocks. When he left an hour later, his hands heavy on his hips, the reluctance to leave as plain as day, she murmured her goodbyes as she watched him go.
Then she finally picked up the untouched package from the kitchen island. Everyone was now watching Christmas cartoons with Keith, so she’d have some privacy. When she opened it, her heart stopped. Inside was the most delicate strand of pink pearls she’d ever seen, with a note:
Delicate, beautiful, and elegant, just like you. I miss you. Merry Christmas. Love, RBB
He’d signed it “love” even then? Heavens. Her fingers traced them, a slight tremble in the manicured French tips. She put the necklace on, tucking it under her sweater so no one else would see it.
Rhett had always known what she wanted, what she needed, and given it to her with a generosity that boggled her mind.
What in the world was he planning to give her for Christmas this year?
Part of her couldn’t wait to find out.
Chapter 2
For Rhett, curbing wild tendencies had become a new course in the subject of Life. Proving to Abbie that he loved her was harder than winning The World Series of Poker—which was freakin’ hard—but proving he could be a good husband to her and a respectable father to Dustin was probably as difficult as climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, something he hadn’t done yet.
He sighed as his poker babes—so sexist, he knew—strutted into his house and followed him into his home office. Their oversized Coach purses were filled with files on all the players in Mac’s New Year’s Eve tournament at The Grand Mountain Hotel. He knew how Abbie felt about them, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. They were like the sisters he’d never had, and they’d helped him become a poker powerhouse.
“Hey Rhett,” Raven said, dropping onto the leather sofa—her preferred perch.
“Boss,” Vixen called out, easing onto the matching leather ottoman where he was sitting.
Since moving to Dare Valley with him, they’d agreed that the women would go low profile. Legal names and normal dress in town. Poker babe hair, makeup, dresses, and aliases at the hotel. This was a conservative small town, after all, and Rhett wanted to be respectful. He also wanted Raven and Vixen to be comfortable in their day–to–day lives since they were staying for the duration.
With her short brown hair and brown eyes, Raven looked perfectly normal when stripped of her jet black beauty pageant wig and add–ons. And her legal name couldn’t be plainer: Jane Wilcox. She was as skinny as a rail without all the body padding she had to wear. Vixen’s strawberry blond hair and big blue eyes were captivating, and she didn’t need any stuffing to turn a man’s head. Her God–given curves and the Marilyn Monroe–inspired wig she wore made her a bombshell. But her name, Elizabeth Saunders, was a far cry from her fiery persona.
He’d met them at a poker tournament in Atlantic City seven years ago. Roommates at Harvard, they’d just graduated with MBAs and loved poker. He’d bought them a drink, thinking they were cute, fresh–faced, and close to his age.
But all they’d wanted to do was talk about poker and other players—an unusual conversation for him to have with a couple of pretty women. They had blown his socks off with their insights, handle on the players, and ability to keep track of everyone’s betting strategies. Being a spontaneous kind of guy, he’d offered them jobs as his scouts on the spot.
They’d agreed, which had kind of surprised him until they’d brought him into the sacred circle of their sisterhood and told them why they were doing it. Jane’s father, a state senator in Connecticut, had been pressuring her to return home and campaign for him with the end goal of her working for him. She’d campaigned for him all her life and couldn’t take it anymore. Elizabeth had a mountain of debt and an ex–boyfriend who wouldn’t leave her alone. Rhett knew there was more to her story, but she’d never told him all the details. For both women, the job had been an escape.
And he’d been happy to help them. Plus there was a reason for the act. Scouting, while totally normal, was best done circumspectly. Plus, Rhett’s fame as a flamboyant ladies’ man had been growing. Making it a part of his shtick had seemed like the best cover.
His poker babes had traveled to the far end of the globe with him, Elizabeth had paid off her college debts, and they’d all made a lot of money in the process. She and Jane never fraternized with the players, and they only played their bombshell roles in public. Everyone had been very clear on that point early on.
While Jane wasn’t prone to much interaction with men, being the more skittish of the two, Elizabeth lived up to her stage name of Vixen, leaving an endless string of broken hearts wherever she went. The women were still best friends, and while they sometimes sighed over the outfits they had to wear for work, they always put their backs into it. Did a man proud.
“So, how’s it looking downtown these days?” he asked. “I was thinking about taking Abbie ice skating.”
“It’s like Happy Town down there, minus Santa and the elves,” Jane said, a terse edge in her voice.
Since Rhett knew she was from a small town herself—and had wanted to get as far from her dysfunctional childhood as possible—he patted her hand. “Try and look for the charm. The people here are real nice.”
“Yes, they are,” Elizabeth agreed, propping her boots onto the coffee table. “Jane is only cranky because she’s got a thing for Arthur Hale’s great nephew, Matthew, who’s moving here to open a law practice. He’s been looking for a place to live on the weekends. She can’t stand lawyers on principal after her dad, so she’s ticked off that she’s attracted to one.”
Right. Her dad was the kind of ambition–hungry, assho
le type who made TV legal dramas popular. “I’ve heard Matthew’s moving here from Denver,” Rhett commented. “With his brother, Andy, right?”
Arthur had bragged about it at their weekly poker night, announcing that the younger generation was finally getting a lick of sense and ditching city living to move back to Dare Valley, just like his granddaughter, Meredith, had done over a year ago.
“Someone needs to shut her mouth, Eliz–a–beth, or I’ll dish on you,” Jane said, pulling a handful of candy canes from her purse and dropping them on the coffee table. She ripped the wrapper off one and started sucking it in a way that would tear Arthur’s nephew in two.
“Girls, girls. I tell you, all I hear is bicker, bicker, bicker.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Jane joked half–heartedly. “So let’s talk about the tourney.”
And they did, each one outlining their files on the competition. Since most of the high rollers announced their tournament appearances on social media, Rhett didn’t have to press Mac for a guest list. He didn’t like to trade on their friendship, except when it came to Abbie.
His mind wandered. Would she agree to be with him, marry him if he got rid of the poker babes? Part of him wasn’t sure. The other part was a bit pissed that she was insisting he ditch the best damn act in the business, especially when it wasn’t hurting anyone. Dustin knew the ladies dressed for show, even though he didn’t mind looking at them. Heck, the kid was a teenager, raging on hormones.
Abbie was only using Jane and Elizabeth as an excuse to stop from doing what she really wanted.
She loved him.
He’d literally bet his life on it by moving here.
Maybe it was time for him to call her bluff.
“What would y’all say if I changed your job descriptions?” he suddenly interrupted, reaching for one of the candy canes Jane had set on the coffee table.
“To what?” Jane asked, ever suspicious, something he’d always liked about her.
Elizabeth sauntered over to the mini fridge and grabbed a Diet Coke. “This is about Abbie, isn’t it?”
“What else?” he asked with a gusty sigh.
“Do you ever wonder if you’re wasting your time here?” Jane asked. “I mean, what if she doesn’t agree to be with you, Rhett? I hate watching her break your heart like this.”
Jane had a heart of gold. He wished Abbie knew her like he did, but he’d never introduced the two of them. She was just about as likely to get chummy with his poker babes as she was to wear sequins for him, something he kinda wanted to see someday. Preferably red sequins.
“It’s my heart,” he told Jane. “But thank you kindly for the thought. Now, seriously, what kind of act could we come up with that would be just as eccentric but more family friendly?”
“You could get a dog like Jane,” Elizabeth said. “That’s what all the well adjusted people do around here, and you can get pretty eccentric with your pets. I saw someone walking their schnauzer on Main Street all dressed up like a reindeer. With the red nose and antlers and everything.”
That poor dog, Rhett thought.
“Rufus isn’t like that. He’s a chocolate lab.” Jane stopped sucking her candy cane and crunched what was left of it.
Rhett rubbed his chin. “You could be my dog walker, Jane, and Elizabeth, you could be my assistant or publicist or something. You already do most of the social media stuff anyway.”
Elizabeth set her soft drink aside. “Let me tell you, I wouldn’t miss the heels. I consider myself a lucky woman to have never taken a swan dive in those six–inch pumps.”
“My physical therapist said they’re terrible for my feet,” Jane added.
“And all the makeup clogs my pores,” Elizabeth said.
“Don’t even get me started about the eye infection I got from the fake eyelashes,” Mary continued.
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Rhett joked, even though he sympathized. He’d heard any number of their horror stories over the years, and seeing them soak their feet in his hot tub after a long day of standing by his side at the tables was a regular occurrence. “You work hard for your money.”
Elizabeth starting singing the song, making them all grin.
“We need to keep your image edgy, though,” Jane said when Elizabeth trailed off. “You’re pretty established now, so I think most hotels will let you in with your dog, especially if it’s part of the new act. They want the media attention and fan interest as much as we do.”
“A slight change to your image probably wouldn’t hurt your game now,” Elizabeth added. “Everyone knows you come prepared, even if your off–the–table antics are a bit unusual. We just need to find another way to captivate the audience. But you need to see what Abbie says. However much I hate those wigs and heels, there’s no use in messing with perfection if it isn’t going to change her mind.”
That’s what he was afraid of. “Right,” he agreed. “This is the ante I’ve been looking for. Research some eccentric dogs. A little one would be a good contrast to my enormous size. Maybe one of those Taco Bell dogs.”
Elizabeth—ever the daring one—snickered. Jane simply rolled her eyes.
“We can get you a man purse too. What about matching outfits? Or an itty bitty cowboy hat?” Elizabeth said, enough glee in her voice for him to know she was enjoying this.
He almost cringed. As a man’s man, he loved having two beautiful, sexy women hovering around him as he worked, but a small animal dressed like him in matching snakeskin attire? People might laugh…or think he was losing it. Poker players needed to know who the Alpha was at the table. He wasn’t sure this change would convey that.
“Okay, let’s mock it up and see what we think. Jane, since you know dogs, you can do that research.”
“She sure does,” Elizabeth snickered.
“Bitch,” her friend responded without much heat.
Rhett bit into another candy cane. They were everywhere this time of year, and as irresistible as holiday crack. His dentist was going to have a field day with him after all the sweets he’d consumed. “Elizabeth, find some celebrity’s eccentric publicist or assistant or something to model yourself after. We can change your look, and few will be the wiser.”
“Except for her figure. That won’t change,” Jane said with a sigh. “Now me?” She gestured toward her less than ample chest. “There’s another story.”
“Maybe my skin will finally clear up,” Elizabeth said. “And think of all the extra time we’ll have, not putting on the stage make–up. It takes forever to put that crap on.”
Rhett took another bite of his candy. “I say the same thing every morning when I do my face.”
They both snorted out a laugh.
“Okay, I think we have a plan. Thanks, girls. We’re done for today.”
They gathered up their files, and he led them out to the front porch.
“This will make our cover easier in town, too,” Jane said. “It isn’t always fun telling everyone we meet that we take reservations for the hotel.”
Mac was kind enough to help the poker babes maintain their cover. Jane and Elizabeth came and went to the hotel as normal employees and changed into their costumes in a special suite Rhett rented under an anonymous name. It had worked, so far.
“Okay, off with you both. And try and have some fun. You watch more poker games than I do. It’s Christmas.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” they agreed in union and took off in their SUVs, snow crunching under the tires.
The mountains were dotted with white, almost like they’d been topped with whipped cream. Deep inside, he had a sudden urge to pack up his skis and head out for some dangerous trails at The Grand Mountain Hotel’s newly renovated slopes.
So, he was going to try and go even more respectable, just like Abbie wanted. Who would have guessed? His friend, Rye, wouldn’t believe it. A year ago, Rhett wouldn’t have believed it either. Then he’d realized the depth of his love for Abbie and vowed to do whatever it took to fill the hole in his he
art he’d walked around with since she’d dumped him.
Being part of this new extended family meant the world to him, but some days the bond felt like a button dangling from a thin piece of thread. He and Abbie needed a stronger piece of thread between them.
God, he hoped this new act would do the trick.
He was running out of ideas.
Chapter 3
Rhett’s chortling laughter was booming from the family room when Abbie came home, making her nerves stretch like bungee cords. So, he was here…again. Well, he pretty much came and went from their house as he pleased—after all, he was Mac’s best friend and Dustin saw him as an adopted uncle. But deep down, he always came for her. That General Patton thing again. He’d circle the embankment she was on, avoiding a direct approach until she was almost sure he wasn’t going to charge. And then he did.
While she waited for him to appear, she fiddled with the gingerbread house she was in the midst of decorating. Measured to within a millimeter of its life, the cookie walls had shrunk evenly. She was pretty happy about that since it made everything easier. She’d glued the three by three inch walls together a few hours ago onto the base cookie foundation. The foam padding she’d bought at the craft store had ensured that they’d set upright. Now that the frosting had dried, it was time to add the roof, a tricky business. When that frosting dried, she’d add the chimney. Assembling gingerbread houses was a testament to her patience and fearlessness. In cooking she had those traits. Life was another matter.
In the meantime, she arranged the decorations she was planning to use, everything from gumdrops to miniature candy canes. A candy Santa and reindeer would line the white, frosting–lined driveway. Then she’d add red and yellow frosting to the window frames and doors, alternating between colors for dramatic effect.