Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

H utton

Henry is either dead asleep or doing a damn good job of faking it. Either way, he snuggles into the blankets Rae stacks on the couch in her living room, both of us working together to make a cozy cocoon for him. His eyes remain closed as I stare at him, making sure he's comfortable. Then I see Rae shiver from out of the corner of my eye and I turn to address the fireplace. There's a stack of logs, plenty of newspaper, and a box of matches at the ready. The brick surround is blackened, indicating she's used this fireplace plenty of times before.

"I'll get this started if you want to check the circuit breaker."

Rae wraps her arms around herself, still in the fleece-lined jacket. "Nah. This happens sometimes in storms. One of these days they'll spend the money to bury the power lines, but until then, it should be up and running by the morning with any luck."

"Suit yourself." I stack the wood and crumple the newspaper before lighting it and watching it begin to catch fire. When I'm certain it's lit, I stand and brush my knees off before walking over to the window at the front of her house. Thankfully, the place is small, which means this fireplace should keep her warm if she sleeps out in the living room overnight.

Rae slips up next to me, her arm brushing against mine as we gaze out the window. I can't even see my truck with all the snow falling. The snow on the ground already looks like it's increased by a foot.

"Oh shit…" Rae breathes. She grabs my arm. "Can you drive in this?"

An uneasy feeling hits the pit of my stomach. Normally, I'd scoff at someone insinuating I can't drive my ridiculously rugged—and expensive—truck through anything, but snow is a different animal. One I'm not super familiar with. "I'm not sure."

Her hand stays on my arm and I can't help but wonder why I like her touch so much. Sure, she's pretty and has already displayed a great sense of humor, plus she's great with Henry, but she's essentially a stranger. And my boy is sleeping just feet away from us.

"You want to stay here? I can make up a den of blankets on the floor in front of the fire," Rae offers, removing her hand and stepping back. She pastes on a smile. "I promise I won't cut off a lock of your hair while you sleep."

I look back out the window, contemplating her offer. Honestly, driving back in this storm isn't something I'm looking forward to, especially with Henry in the truck. But staying with a stranger? That also carries risk. Then again, Morgana trusts her with her kiddos and that speaks volumes.

Turning back to her, I grin. "In terms of resale value, clipped toenails get a higher bid."

Rae's overly painted face splits into a grimace before she chuckles. "Come on. I'll get the blankets."

"I'll help." I follow her into the hallway where she opens a cabinet and pulls out thick blankets of every color along with a few hand-stitched quilts. "Did you make these?"

She piles my arms with blankets and then grabs the quilts, both of us returning to the living room and lowering our voices. "Nah. My creative talents are firmly and only in the painting category. Most of these are from my mom."

Plopping the load on the floor in front of the fire, we fashion a makeshift bed. The fire has grown, all the logs now pumping out heat. My hands go to my hips and I suddenly feel awkward invading her personal space.

"Thanks for letting us stay here. I promise we'll be out of your hair first thing in the morning."

She smiles, taking off her jacket and heading for the hallway again. "Stay as long as you'd like. If you need anything, just holler." And then she disappears.

I check on Henry, satisfied that he's fully covered for the night. Then I sit on top of the blanket bed and pull off my boots. I slide between the blankets and reach to grab a throw pillow off the couch. It's pretty cozy staring at a fire in a snowstorm, but I find myself shifting uncomfortably. My jeans feel stiffer than a virgin on her wedding night. Considering I normally sleep naked, this amount of clothing feels like a full snowsuit. Hoping Rae is down for the night and won't object, I slide out of my jeans and fold them next to my bed.

"Ahh," I sigh. That's better.

A muffled scream has me tensing and disentangling from the blankets to get to my feet. I follow the sound, going down the hallway and into a bedroom, seeing a rustic bed frame of real wood, a thick stack of blankets and comforter covering a bed, and signs of Rae on every surface in the room. Hats, boots, and more feather earrings, along with makeup, perfume bottles, and even paintbrushes mixed in. There's a wooden door on the far end of the room. Another gasp from behind it has me over there in a split second.

I knock on what I think is the bathroom door softly. "You okay in there?"

Rae clears her throat, her voice coming from just on the other side of the door. "Totally fine. Just, uh, saw the makeup situation. I'm going to wash my face. Be out in a second."

The sound of running water has me wondering if I should go back to my bed. I probably look like an idiot in my boxers, socks, and the T-shirt I wore at the wedding. The door cracks open and Rae's suddenly standing there, shadows making the details hard to see. She takes a step forward and all the blood in my body drains south. I'd have to be straight blind not to see the miles of long shapely legs that move with grace into her bedroom.

I was right. Under all that makeup, she's stunningly beautiful.

"I may have ruined one of my towels getting all that makeup off," she jokes, having a seat on her bed.

My gaze travels up from the bare legs and snags on the T-shirt with the name of a bar emblazoned on the front. "I think Imogen better reevaluate her professional dreams."

Rae grins, letting out a huff of a laugh in the quiet bedroom. I notice belatedly that I can see her laugh. It's fucking freezing in here.

"Are you going to be able to sleep? It's pretty cold…"

Rae looks up, startled. "I have some sweats I can wear."

I nod, taking in the hair piled messily on top of her head and envisioning her in sweats. Bet she'd be pretty even in that. I'm suddenly not sleepy at all. "You want to warm up in front of the fire first?"

Rae pauses, then smiles, standing back up and moving to the dresser. She pulls out sweats and steps into them, along with a pair of thick socks. Yep, fucking hot. "I have a bottle of wine I picked up yesterday and haven't cracked open. Care for a glass?"

"That sounds perfect." She leads the way and I follow right into the kitchen, watching her every move. She has a way about her. She's efficient and yet graceful with every movement.

She fills two glasses and turns back around, handing one to me. We stare at each other as we both take a sip. The silence stretches out as the wind continues to howl outside. There's an intimacy being huddled inside together, no lights, no noises other than the storm.

"So, think the storm will be over soon?" she finally asks, like maybe the silence finally got to her.

My shoulders sag, disappointment and fatigue filling me for the first time since I met this woman. I don't want to talk about the weather. Or my songs. Or holiday plans. Or any other mundane thing that everyone always asks me. That restlessness that spills into recklessness, the same feeling that had me driving ten hours into a small town I didn't tell my agent about, surges in my chest.

I tip my head toward the living room where the heat from the fire beckons. "Can I suggest something radical?"

Rae steps closer, hugging her wineglass to her chest. "I love radical."

"I was trying to go back to my room when I ran into you because I wanted to be alone. I was tired of all the smiling and pretending and socializing."

Rae freezes, her expression going guarded. "I understand. I'll head to bed. See you in the morning."

She misunderstood me. I put my hand on her arm to stop her retreat. "No. No, that's not where I was going with that. I just…I'm just tired of all the fake that comes with being well known. I don't want to talk about the weather or my next album. I just want to have a real conversation for once. Can we do that?"

Rae tilts her head to the side, studying me. I don't know what she sees. Most people only see the practiced smirks and jokes and flirting. I'm desperately hoping she sees deeper than that. I've come to hate surface-level interactions. Loathe it with a passion these days.

"Fuck yeah, we can. I hate small talk too." She takes another sip of wine. "But aren't you afraid I'll blab all your secrets to the press?"

Beyond relieved, I tug her into the living room and have a seat on the floor, on top of the blankets. "You're a nanny to the stars, right?" She nods and I continue. "If you blab my secrets, you'll never get a job again. Your nannying days will be over."

She wrinkles her nose and has a seat next to me, slightly at an angle so we can still see each other in the light from the flames. Her voice is a whisper and it warms me that she's thinking of my sleeping son, even now. "And then I'll have to bartend and make small talk for hours every night. Or my gum sculptures will have to take off." She nods vigorously. "You're right. I won't blab a word."

My smile returns and it's genuine. It's not flirty or teasing. Just real happiness to engage with another human. "I'll start. Worst mistake you ever made. Spill it."

Rae squirms deeper into the blankets. "Wow, starting off strong, are we? Okay, I can hang. Married a plumber when I was twenty-one. We were young and stupid and had no business cohabitating."

I wince at all the thoughts I've had about this beautiful woman. She's far too young for me to be looking at her like she's a prize to be won. "You still seem pretty young."

"I'm twenty-eight and far more mature than most forty-year-olds, I assure you. Losing a parent early on and a divorce will do that to a person." But instead of diving into that loaded comment, she deflects. "How about you? Worst mistake?"

"Married a Hollywood starlet who wanted me only for a leg up in the industry."

She nods, probably remembering reading about that. It was all over the newspapers and gossip sites for months. She doesn't comment though, just lifts up her glass and clinks it against mine. "To stupid marriages and coming out the other end wiser." We both drink to that.

She points at me, a wicked grin on her face. "It's my turn to ask. Describe your perfect woman. Or man. No judgement here."

I chuckle, finding her a breath of fresh air. "It's definitely a woman. Blonde, funny, and a badass streak. Minimal makeup."

She puts her hand on my chest, faking offense. "Are you describing me , Hutton Calder? Well, except for the makeup bit. I can clearly rock a full face."

I look over my shoulder at Henry who's still fast asleep. Even my skin feels alive talking to this woman. Leaning in closer, I hold her gaze. "What if I am, Rae? What would you do about it?"

Holy shit, I'm flirtin'. Like, with the intention of getting this gorgeous woman to come closer rather than just my fake flirting to keep up the facade of a country music bachelor who loves the ladies. Rae's a beautiful woman. Even hotter dressed down and face naked.

She's looking at me like she wants to straddle my lap and do unspeakable things to my body. She looks like she'd know exactly what to do too. Like she'd climb aboard and wrestle control away from me with just her mouth. I'd let her. Damn, would I let her.

"I wouldn't do a damn thing about it, Hutton." She tosses a sultry smile my way. "Since you haven't asked me what my type is."

"Please say a good ol' boy from Texas," I barely breathe.

Rae sets her wineglass down on the floor and scoots in closer. "Most women have a thing for the bad boys," she whispers, just an inch away from my lips.

My empty wineglass makes a clink as I set it away from me on the hardwood floor. My hand lifts of its own volition and cups her jaw. She nuzzles into my palm, and if I don't kiss this woman in the next five seconds, I might actually kick my own ass for not taking a chance. Nothing much can happen here with Henry sleeping right next to us, but I need one tiny taste of her. Just one taste and I'll be satisfied.

"I can be bad if you need that, sugar." I lean down and barely graze my lips against hers. She inhales sharply and sways into me, her hands finding my shoulders.

"I prefer an honest-to-God cowboy," she whispers back sweetly.

And that's when I can't resist any longer. Our lips crash together and the room ignites.