“Mm.”
“Samson?”
They both looked toward the restaurant, where Tina was standing in the door, her hands on her slim hips. “We’re ready for you,” she called out.
So his date was here. Cool.
“Good luck,” Rhiannon said to him. She took a step back, then realized she didn’t want to walk through the restaurant and see the woman.
Kind, loyal, sweet.
She had no designs on Samson, that part of their relationship was finito, explanation or not, but better to not know what his ideal woman looked like.
“Thanks,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound enthused.
She spotted a gate in the garden and gestured at it. The path should allow her to circumvent the building and get to the front drive. “I’ll go. Let me know when you talk to Annabelle.”
“Do you want to stay? This won’t take long, and—”
“Nah, it’s getting late, and, uh...” She had a vast repertoire of excuses on how to get out of a date, but her mind blanked. “My cat’s sick.”
“You have a cat?”
No. “Yes.”
“I’m so sorry. What’s wrong with it?”
She waved her hand. “It’s nothing dire. I mean. She’s fine. She’s more my roommate’s cat.” She backed away as she spoke, patting her pockets for her valet ticket. Thank God, she never carried a purse. When you stashed everything in your pockets, you didn’t have to hunt around for an extra device carrying all your essentials. Anything that could get you in and out of places faster was her jam.
Samson followed her, looking concerned. “Let me know if you need—”
“I don’t. Anyway. Thanks again.” She whirled away and tugged at the gate, confused when the artfully weathered wood only opened a crack. She yanked harder, but it barely jostled.
A warmth enveloped her, and she nearly groaned when he stepped up right behind her, his big, enormous body filling her with heat.
His hand came in front of her and gently pressed the gate shut. His forearm brushed her shoulder, and she waited, every muscle tensed. What would she do if he insisted she stay? If he dismissed the woman who had showed up for him? If he touched her now, after he’d been so sweet and apologetic, when they were alone, in a picturesque garden...?
Nothing would happen. Because they were done.Closuremeantdone.
He undid the latch on the gate, and he took a step back, away from her. Her breath rushed out of her and she opened the door properly, feeling foolish.
“I’ll call you after I speak with Aunt Belle,” he said to her back. “It might be a few days. She’s out of the country right now and she’s slow to return calls.”
She swallowed. Right. Yes. Annabelle. Business. “Okay. Thanks.”
His voice was husky. “See you later, Rhiannon.”
He’d whispered that in her ear when he’d slipped away from her bed, though she’d been Claire then. It was far easier to have impersonal sex with a person when they didn’t know your real name. She hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder. “Call me Rhi.”
He raised a thick eyebrow. All of him was thick, damn it. Or thicc. With two c’s. All the c’s. “Rhi? I like it. It’s short, like Claire.”
Peter had been the last man who had slept with her to use her full name, her real name. She’d been Claire to all her hookups. She didn’t believe that a name gave someone power over you but...
Best not to risk it.
“Samson!”
Samson glanced over his shoulder, and Rhiannon took that chance to slip through the gate. She refused to look behind her, to see if he was watching her leave. It didn’t matter.
