by Mia Carson
Around four, Rhett rapped his knuckles on her desk, startling from her day dreaming. She jumped and he apologized. “You haven’t moved in an hour.”
“What? Yes, I have,” she argued, but when she looked up at the computer screen, she cursed. “I swore I’d finished this. I guess I’m a bit out of it today.”
“Isn’t it Wednesday?”
“Yes, it is,” she replied, struggling to get back to work as her mind drifted to Clarice.
“I thought you had an appointment to keep so you need to leave early.”
“I do, but I’ve hardly gotten anything done today,” she pointed out. “I’ll leave soon.”
“Or you could leave now because your boss is sending you home. Seriously, Freddie, none of this is that urgent. You can finish it tomorrow morning.”
She sighed, but he was right. She wouldn’t get through this, not with the way her mind was already by her sister’s side. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“Yeah, I’ll make it.” She saved the small amount of work she did finish, sent a few quick e-mails to the departments about the memos waiting for them, and picked up her purse.
“I’ll walk you out,” he offered.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I insist,” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world for the CEO to walk his assistant out of the building to her car. Keys in hand, she walked towards the blue Beetle at the end of the lot, but Rhett suddenly stopped.
“What?” she asked, confused. “Rhett?”
“You know your new job came with a raise, right?” He motioned to her old, beat-up car. “I’m pretty sure it was a big enough raise to afford a new car.”
“What’s wrong with little blue?” she asked, frowning at the car.
“How does it still run?”
“Because I’ve kept up the maintenance on this thing since I’ve had it,” she stated proudly. “She runs just fine. The air might not work and the speakers go in and out, but she’s good.”
“Freddie, you work your ass off. Why don’t you treat yourself? Buy a new car,” he insisted, joining her by the blue Beetle. “A safer car so I don’t have to imagine this falling apart on the freeway with you in it.”
She sighed as she unlocked the door and tossed her purse in the backseat. “I have other expenses I need to take care of.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“The usual stuff,” she explained briefly, hoping he would leave it at that, but he raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.
“The house you live in? Student loans?”
“No, Mom’s insurance paid off the rest of the house, and I managed to get through college on grants and scholarships, and paying off what I had to along the way,” she said, always proud to announce that achievement.
“I’m impressed, but I still don’t understand what expenses you have.”
She curled her hand around the top of the car door and remembered what Clarice had told her the first night she mentioned her sexy new boss. “Come on,” she said and slid behind the wheel.
“Come where?” he asked after she manually rolled down the window.
“Don’t you trust me? Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?” She winked, and he was in the car a moment later. She pulled out of the parking lot and forced herself to breathe. No matter what happened next, Rhett had a right to know what he was getting himself involved with.
A woman who had a little crazy in her life, and not in a good way.
***
Rhett didn’t recognize the area as Freddie drove him out of the city and up into the hills. She turned down a long drive with a gated entrance, and when he read the sign, he glanced at her. “Gibbons Home for the Mentally Impaired?”
“Yes.”
“You know someone here?”
“I do.” Freddie parked her Beetle and they climbed out together. She marched up the front steps, and once inside, the older woman behind the front desk greeted them with a smile. “Evening, Nurse Betty.”
“Freddie, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thanks, me too. I brought a friend with me to meet her. Is she doing better?”
“So far, so good,” the nurse replied, and Rhett glanced from the nurse to Freddie, waiting for a hint at who he was about to meet.
The nurse told Freddie to head to the art room, and they were off, wandering down a long hall lined with windows and skylights so the sun filtered inside. They passed through beams of warmth, and Rhett glanced inside the open doorways, seeing people talking in circles, others acting out, and more playing cards or games. A double door awaited them at the end of the hall, and Freddie stopped just short of it. Her brow furrowed as she spun the ring on her finger nonstop.
“Freddie? Who do you come here to see?” he asked, slipping his hand into hers.
She glanced down at their clasped hands and faced him with sadness blurring her eyes. “My baby sister, Clarice.”
“Your sister?” At the far end of the room, sitting in front of an easel with a canvas on it, was a younger version of Freddie. They were nearly identical, but this young girl had an air of innocence about her and lacked the worry lines her older sister had etched in her face. “The ribbons on your wrist, they’re for her,” he stated, understanding a little more now.
Freddie traced her finger over them. “Neon green for mental illness and dark blue for depression. She was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was twelve.”
“That runs in the family?” Her breath caught and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Gently, he wiped it away. “Freddie, how did your mom die?”
“I told Clarice Mom was sick,” she whispered, “but she was like my sister. Lost, feeling so alone, and the meds… they don’t always help the way they’re supposed to.”
He waited for her to finish telling him, though in his heart, heavy with emotion, he had a feeling he already knew the ending to this story. Clarice called Freddie’s name, and she rushed forward to catch her little sister in her arms. Rhett brushed a tear from his eye as he grunted, pulling himself together as Clarice spotted him over Freddie’s shoulder.
“Is that your boss?” she asked excitedly.
“Clarice, I’d like you to meet Rhett Macon, and yes, he is my boss, so behave yourself, please,” Freddie pleaded.
Rhett grinned and held out his hand. “It is very nice to meet you, Clarice.”
“Same.” She shook his hand, much stronger than she looked, and eyed him inquisitively. “Do you like my sister?”
“Clarice!”
“What? I can ask, can’t I? You’re the one who said how hot he was.”
Freddie’s cheeks burned, and the two orderlies at the far end of the room grinned. “I did, but that doesn’t mean you have to repeat it to the man in question.”
Clarice beamed at her older sister. If Rhett didn’t know anything about this girl, he wouldn’t even suspect she was mentally ill. She clutched his hand and dragged him into the room. “Want to see my new paintings? Freddie won’t like them, but I think they’re pretty neat.”
“You did these?” he asked, amazed as he stared at the canvases leaning against the easel and the one she’d been working on currently. “You are quite the artist.”
“Yes, she is,” Freddie said sadly, her smile gone.
“You don’t like them?” he asked.
“She wants to see more color,” Clarice clarified for him, and Freddie rolled her eyes. “But some days, there’s no color to be caught and put on the canvas, so I paint what I can see instead.”
Rhett studied the paintings, bending so he could see the intricate detail. Each one told a story, but what they really meant, only Clarice could tell him. What he did know was they tugged at his soul as a person watching another suffer and unable to do anything to help or understand what she was going through. He lifted his gaze and locked onto Freddie’s. Yesterday, when she’d suddenly gotten so upset, and today whe
n she came out of the bathroom looking like she’d cried again with bags under her eyes, all that pain and worry was over her sister.
“Do you like my sister? You never answered before,” Clarice asked as he straightened.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured him.
“Freddie?” a woman in a white coat called from the doorway. “Can I pull you away for a few minutes?”
“Behave, both of you,” Freddie warned, pointing at her sister and Rhett. She left the room with the woman and Clarice’s shoulders hunched forward.
“They’re talking about me,” she said matter-of-factly. “Last night wasn’t a good one for me.”
“You seem good right now,” he offered, mesmerized by how easily her hand moved with the paintbrush across the canvas. “And I guess you would still like an answer to your question.”
“I do, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” She glanced at the doorway, but Freddie was still gone. “I’m glad that other asshole is gone.”
“Mack?”
“Yeah, I never liked him, and he never did anything good for my sister. He never came to visit me with her, not once.”
Rhett scratched the tip of his nose, wondering if he should tell her, but decided what the hell. “That asshole? I punched him once or twice for your sister. Don’t tell her I told you.”
“Good, he deserved it.” Silence fell over them as she continued to paint. “You do like her,” Clarice decided, swishing her paintbrush in the water to clean it. “Otherwise you wouldn’t get in a fight with her ex.”
Rhett tucked his hands in his pockets. “I do like her. Your sister is special.”
Clarice set her brush down and eyed her canvas through a narrowed gaze. “Don’t hurt her if you can help it. She acts tough, but I know what’s gone on the past few years. She’s fragile, and she’s going to break,” she whispered. “No one’s taken care of her.”
“I will,” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve never really had the chance to take care of someone.”
Clarice’s blue eyes settled on his, and the depth of love she had for her big sister floored him. He loved his brothers, but what he sensed flowing from this young woman was the connection he longed to have with his family. Freddie and Clarice had it and then some.
“Promise?”
He wrapped his pinkie around her tiny one and nodded solemnly. “Promise, I’ll do my best.”
She yawned as she let go of his pinkie, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m tired, now. Hank?”
“Do you want me to find your sister so you can tell her good night?” he asked.
“Yes, please. She shouldn’t even be here, not after last night.”
“Hey, what did we tell you about talking negative?” the other orderly scolded. “Last night and all the other times are not your fault. She’s here because she loves you, so get that guilty look off your face, young lady.”
Clarice rolled her eyes but smiled. “Whatever you say, Theo.”
Hank picked up a phone on the wall, and after speaking quietly to someone on the other end, hung up. “Dr. Gibbons says you can head to her office and tell Freddie bye for the night.”
“Nice meeting you, Rhett,” Clarice called over her shoulder.
“Same to you, Clarice. Good night!” He checked his watch, but it was barely half past five. Theo remained behind with him, closing the paints left behind and wiping down the brushes. “She seems happy.”
“Now she is,” he said sadly. “The depression comes and goes in waves. It’s the voices that cause her fits. She was getting better, but lately… I have a daughter her age. I can’t imagine how that young lady keeps putting on a brave face—both of them.”
“Freddie?”
Theo removed the paintings from the easel and added them to a collection on the back wall. He hung each one up, making sure it was straight, and once he had finished, he stood beside Rhett. “She’s had a rough go of things. Clarice tends to blame herself, but we always remind her she didn’t ask for this. No one does.”
Rhett paced around the art room, noticing some ceiling tiles in need of replacing and cracked tiles on the floor. “Where does the funding for this place come from?”
“The state, or what we can manage to get,” Theo explained. “Some comes from donations, but each year, Dr. Gibbons has to raise the rates for the patients staying here.”
His hands on his hips, he circled the full diameter of the room. Each of his brothers had an organization or group they supported. Most of them were for political benefit, but Rhett wasn’t interested in politics. The younger version of him would think it was foolish to get involved with a place like this, but the present-day Rhett was quickly growing up, thanks to Freddie, and he saw a chance to do something great with his life and wealth.
“Can I leave my card with you for Dr. Gibbons?”
Theo took the card he offered. “Can I ask what for?”
“Tell her to give me a call sometime this week. I’d like to discuss an opportunity with her.”
“I will pass the message along,” he promised and tucked the card in his pocket. “Feel free to wait here for Freddie. She shouldn’t be much longer.”
Rhett took his time looking at every painting on the wall. Each patient, it seemed, had their own section to hang up their artwork. Clarice’s pieces fascinated him as much as they hit him emotionally. This girl knew suffering and clearly had demons haunting her if the images were to be believed. Even the ones with color in them had a dark undertone breaking through the light, cheery atmosphere Clarice tried to create.
“Hey,” Freddie said, and his hand found hers as she stood beside him. “Ready to go?”
“Did you see your sister again?”
“Yes. I’m hoping she manages to sleep tonight and the voices leave her alone,” she muttered. “Every time I think she’s on the verge of getting ahead of this shit, the darkness rushes right back in to try and take her from me.”
They reached the Beetle, but the keys fell from her trembling hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and Rhett rushed to hold her in his arms, shushing her as he let her cry into his suit jacket. She clung to him, and for the first time ever, Rhett believed he could truly help someone else besides himself. Freddie needed someone to care for her and be her support when she fell apart. Rhett wanted to be that person so badly it hurt.
“Here,” he whispered, “let me have the keys. I’ll drive you home.”
She handed them over, wiping her face on her blouse sleeve. “Why are you always so nice?”
“Because that’s the kind of guy I am,” he teased and was rewarded with a laugh and a smile. “Let’s get you home.”
She didn’t argue and helped guide him back to the city and out again until he remembered the way to her house. He parked out front and walked her to her front door.
“Do you want to come in? I think I owe you another drink,” she offered.
“You don’t owe me anything. I can leave if you want,” he told her, but she shook her head and clutched his arm.
“No,” she whispered harshly and dragged him inside with her. “I’ve been left alone so many times. I can’t take it anymore. Dad left, and Mom…she…”
“What happened, Freddie?” he asked.
Freddie chucked her purse at the couch with a yell of pain that struck Rhett to his core. “She killed herself. I came home one day to find she’d swallowed all her damn pills. I was too late to save her. She left me and Clarice… left us alone and Clarice had to go to the home and Mack… I don’t want to be left alone, not again.”
“I won’t leave you,” he swore, catching her in his arms. “Do you hear me, Freddie? I won’t leave you alone, not tonight, not ever.”
He kissed her, needing to show her how much she meant to him. They clung to each other in the tiny living room of her house, and Rhett understood, in that moment, all those years he’d been lost. No longer. He’d found the woman he wanted to be with and han
ded his heart over to her freely.
Chapter 8
He wore too many clothes, and so did she. Freddie tore at his jacket, shoving it angrily off his shoulders as if it offended her. Her hands yanked at his tie as his worked on her blouse, undoing the buttons in record time. They moved through the house in a frantic dance, aiming for the bedroom. When her blouse frustrated him, he growled and tore at the buttons. They popped off and shot all over the place. She matched his intensity with her own, and soon, his buttons joined hers all over the floor. She stepped on them as she kicked out of her heels and he his shoes. Their lips hardly left one another’s until they reached the bedroom doorway and she shoved him inside.
His hazel eyes darkened as they gazed down her chest to her lower body still sheathed in her tight pencil skirt. “How many of those do you have?” he grated.
“Enough,” she replied and spun around. “Don’t you like them?”
“You have no idea,” he grunted and grabbed her hand, hauling her back into his arms. The first night he’d touched her, Freddie thought she would lose her mind. This time, she wanted to get lost in his presence, have him surround her and take her far away from her worries and the realities that bogged her down.
His fingers shoved at the bra straps and he replaced them with his lips, nipping and sucking on her flesh. He spun her around so her back pressed into his chest, and he shoved her hair aside so he could kiss along the length of her neck. Every nerve was on fire with passion for this man holding her up when she was so ready to crumble and fall apart. As his hands closed around her breasts, massaging them, she moaned, her head falling back. She pushed his head closer and ground her hips back into his hard cock pressing with intent against her ass. God did she want him—no, need him.
Mack had only elicited a spark of desire in her. Rhett set her whole soul on fire.