Which is right when a leather glove wraps around my elbow followed by a deep, raspy, “Hey.” Rhett doesn’t have to pull me hard. My body moves toward him like butter melts onto hot toast. I turn my back on the other guy and look up at Rhett’s stubbled, rugged face. Fuck. He really is hot. I’ve been trying so hard not to admit that to myself. But every now and then, just a glimpse of him hits me in the gut.
