He lifts one shoulder. “That’s alright. I left the spare key with Honky-Tonk for a reason.”
My stomach lurches. That almost sounds like he kept it there for me, thinking I’d return one day. How fucking absurd!
Rust approaches, putting one cup on the coffee table and offering the other to me. It’s a nice gesture, but I can only notice the golden wedding band wrapped around his left ring finger.
Unexpected jealousy rips through me like a primal instinct.
“Is your wife okay with you serving coffee to another woman?” I hiss.
Fuck, I shouldn’t’ve said that! What’s gotten into me?
Rust laughs dryly. He crouches in front of me and reaches out. I’m a deer in the headlights, letting him uncurl my clenched fist.
Holy fucking shit his hands are huge.
My stupid heart takes a tumble as he presses the warm mug against my palm and his calloused fingers guide mine around it. With every shallow breath, I smell the coffee… andhim.
Pine with a faint smokiness like a night of wild camping under the stars.
“I forgot how small your hands are…” he mumbles as if talking to himself, stroking the backs of my fingers. With a start, he releases my hand like it burned him. He clears his throat. “Well, you tell me if my wife minds cause I don’t see no other women here.”
Confused, I watch as he twists the ring off his finger and shows it to me. When I read the engraving on the inside, I almost spill my coffee on the rug.
The two words strike me like a physical blow.
Kentucky Skies.
“You’re wearingourwedding ring?” I blurt.
Rust shrugs sheepishly, a ruddy tint appearing on his cheeks.
“Are you mocking me? Do you think this is funny?” I spit.
“Funny? No. I said the vows and promised ‘til death do us part, Trouble. And from what I can tell, neither of us is rottin’ in the cold, damp soil just yet. As far as I’m concerned, that ring belongs on my hand until it’s nothing but bone.”
Exasperated, I scoff. I can’t fucking believe this! The sheer audacity to?—
“Do I have to remind you that we’re divorced andyouare the one who filed?” I get out through clenched teeth. “In fact, we’ve been divorced for longer than our record-length marriage of less than twenty-four fucking hours!”
He smirks and it annoys me how cute he looks. “Technically, I think that’s called an annulment.”
“Technically I think that’s called shut the fuck up, Rust.”
His grin widens. “Make me.”
I opt for silent glaring. Especially since the only way of shutting him up I can think of is sealing his lips with mine.
“You’re not worried about putting off potential girlfriends?” I ask instead.
He puffs out a breath, slipping the ring back on his finger as he stands up. “Naw. You were my only real relationship. At the start I tried to numb myself with anonymous hookups, but it’s been years. My hand does the job just fine.”
I stutter, nearly melting into the space between the crochet sofa cushions. Frustration coils tight in my belly.
None of this makes any fucking sense! He left me to live a life of self-imposed celibacy?! What is he, a monk?
Rust taps my mug. “Enough about my masturbation habits for now. Drink your coffee before it gets cold and then tell me why you’re here.” He lifts his cup from the table and takes a sip. “Last I heard, you wouldn’t be caught dead in Redbird Creek.”
I bite my tongue. He’s got a point. I didn’t come to drag the past from its shallow grave and I need to get on his good side. After all, I’m about to ask a damn big favor. A dead-body-sized favor.
