RHETT

I told myself I wouldn’t look for her. And I hadn’t for 10 excruciating years. I told myself if Sloane Hart ever came back to this town, I’d let her pass like a ghost- unacknowledged, unimportant. The way she wanted it. That lie lasted me exactly six hours.

I know she’s back here, at my family's estate grounds before anyone tells me. Albeit I knew she rolled into town in her rental at nine am sharp, from my assistant Hailey. But, aside from that, The Whitmere Hotel has a way of humming when something important walks through its doors like the walls themselves are paying attention. Tonight, the air feels tighter. Charged.

When I exit the private elevator I'd just been in, she's walking in the lobby of the Whitmere Hotel, black stiletto heels clicking softly against the marble I paid for with blood and broken knuckles. She looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine in a cream silk dress, oversized designer sunglasses, and her fiery red hair curled around her glossy and loose, confidence wrapped around her like armor.

She doesn’t see me at first. That’s worse. Because I get to watch. And then get to really see her. I don’t approach her right away. I shouldn’t approach her at all.

God help me, she’s still her. Softer in some places. Sharper in others. And the sight of her here in my hotel feels like fate rubbing salt into an old wound. She looks different. More composed, more assured, but the curve of her mouth, the way she holds herself like she’s bracing for impact… that’s the same. That’s always been her.

Instead, I quietly observe her with my arms crossed as she removes those sunglasses and places her briefcase on the floor with a thud and really takes in the space. She slowly takes in every detail in the grand foyer- the marble floors, the expansive marble check in desk, the custom mahogany ceiling with magnolias and raini etched into every crevice the craftsman could put it into, the grand mahogany sweeping staircase carpeted in plush green carpet with gold flecks, the gold and crystal chandeliers I selected myself because they reminded me of candlelight after a rainstorm. The entrance to a grand entrance to our restaurant; coined by her when we were kids- The Cobblestone Cafe. This was supposed to be a business decision- An investment. Somewhere along the way, it became a monument. To her.

“Sloane.”

She turns at the sound of my voice, and the flicker in her green eyes nearly undoes me. Those same green eyes with gold flecks throughout them. Staring into my soul. It’s not surprise. It’s Recognition. I step closer, invading her space without touching her. The scent of her- warm vanilla and something unmistakably hers, hits me low and hard. Ten years. Ten damn years, and my body reacts like no time passed at all.

“Rhett,” she says softly. Then, like she needs the distance, she straightens and steps backwards. “You came back” she lifts her chin sternly. “Looks like it.”

“You own this place.” She says. It isn’t a question. “Among other things,” I reply.

Her lips curve faintly. Not a smile. More like an acknowledgment of something she already knew. She swallows. I watch her throat move as she licks her lips. I vividly remember kissing both spots when we were too young to understand consequence.

“Figures,” she mumbles and glances away before she looks back at me. “Congratulations on your accomplishments. It’s absolutely breathtaking”

I nod once. “Welcome back to Whitmere County.” The words hang between us, heavier than they should be. “I didn’t plan to run into you so soon,” she says with a chuckle that is more nervous than anything.

That almost makes me laugh. “This is my hotel, in the business proposal you would have seen that” I say evenly. “Running into me was inevitable.”

Her jaw tightens, just slightly. There it is. the old tension, the push and pull that used to feel like breathing to us both “I’m here on business Rhett,” she says tensely. “The spa expansion. I assume you’ve seen the same proposal you speak of.”

“I have.”

“And?”

“You didn’t say goodbye,” I say quietly. Her gaze lifts to mine. Her eyes were shining with something I couldn’t exactly place. “I didn’t know how.”

I lean in, my mouth near her ear now, close enough that she inhales sharply. “You still don’t, I guarantee it,” I say. “But you’re going to learn this time .” Her breath stutters. And for the first time since she left, I know one thing for sure- She didn’t come back for nothing. She’s not here just for a business deal. She’s not just here for a Spa.

“And yes, Sloane, we'll talk about the Spa,” I say. “But not here.” I gesture toward the private elevator tucked discreetly behind the massive front desk. The one only family and executives use. Her gaze flicks to it. Hesitation flashes across her face before she swallows her breath and retrieves her briefcase. Before following behind “Of course,” she says. “Wouldn’t want the town talking.”

I step closer, lowering my voice. “They already are.” Her breath catches again. I see it. Feel it.

The elevator doors slide open, smooth and silent, and we step inside together. The space is small. Too small for everything we aren’t saying. Her perfume is soft, warm, unmistakably hers. It wraps around me like a memory I never outran. The doors close and silence stretches between us, the air so tense you could cut it with a knife.

“I didn’t leave to hurt you,” she says suddenly and no more than a whisper, staring straight ahead.

I don’t answer right away. If I do, I’ll say too much. Instead, I watch the numbers climb.

“I know,” I say finally. “Doesn’t change what it did.” She nods, like she expected that answer. Like she deserved it.

When the doors open onto the eleventh floor, I motion her toward my private office, which is located right next to my suite. I have an office along with the conference room and board room downstairs, but this feels more right for this moment. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I say as she steps inside. “Whatever history we have, it doesn't belong to the town. Or the board. Or the staff.”

Her gaze meets mine, steady and serious. “Agreed.”

I close the door behind us.

And just like that, the past isn’t outside anymore. It’s standing in my office, looking like she was dropped in from the big city- somewhere so far Oklahoma had never touched her. All 5 foot 7 inches of perfection of her was looking at me like I’m both a mistake and a memory she never stopped missing.

SLOANE

Rhett’s office smells like leather and whiskey and something dangerously familiar. Him. I’ve spent ten years avoiding this for a reason. I’ve spent ten years leaving a situation if it reminded me of him- hell he I’ve spent ten years avoiding anyone of the male species unless I needed one thing.

I tell myself that this is ridiculous. That ten years is plenty of time to unlearn the way a man makes your body remember before your mind catches up. Ten years can stifle any desire in the human body- doesn’t it take twenty-one days to learn a new behavior?

Apparently not.

“This is a bad idea,” I was standing next to the door so I could leave if I needed to. And I’m honestly considering it. Damned putting my company on the map. Damned all those long nights and early mornings. From controlling every aspect of every project- from blueprints, to contractors, to designers. I need peace. I built a life without him. I thought I had it, I thought I had reached peace and success.. and I thought I was ready for this, and boy was I mistaken.

Rhett leans back in his chair, slow and deliberate. Analyzing me with every move he makes. He doesn’t look rushed. He doesn’t look unsure. That used to undo me. It doesn’t now.. right? “Funny,” he says, smirking, “You always used to say that right before doing whatever you wanted.”

My mouth opens. Closes. God, he remembers me too well. That’s not me now. I'm no longer nineteen years old without a care in the world- I can’t even think around this man. I’m in over my head. I swallow hard before I reply- “I’m here to talk business,” I say. “Your business. My business. The business I’ve worked my ass off for, Rhett. Not that you can begin to ever understand- my family doesn’t have an ‘estate’ not in Oklahoma and damn sure not in any galaxy in the universe and beyond.” I continue hastily- “The Spa Expansion needs the Hotel. The hotel needs my business, that's it.” I say firmly. This was with thoroughly more dedication than I’ve put onto a statement in over ten years. Rhett stands and looks me over slowly. I feel like I’m naked in front of this cursed man. I'm trying my best to act like he doesn’t exist and I’m here for business. Because I am. The air changes as he stands- or thickens, so stifling I can’t breathe- everything around me pulls tight. I need to get out of here, I think to myself. I need an ice bath. I need a lobotomy. Who was I to ever think I could take on the Whitmere family? It doesn’t matter how much blood, sweat, and tears I put into climbing my way to the top at Westwood Interiors & Co. No matter the sleepless nights and problems I’ve had to solve. Not when Rhett is around. He takes two steps forward, stopping close enough that I can feel his heat without touching him.

“Business, you say?” he repeats softly. “My Magnolia, is that why your pulse just jumped?”

I hate that he notices. I hate that he’s right. I hate that he used that ridiculous pet name for me- formed when we were children. This man is infuriating. It’s been a decade. For a decade I proved myself to the entire world, Yet here I am trying to win him over. Trying to win the approval of a man for a job I was hired to do.

“Move,” I whisper. He doesn’t. “Move, now Rhett” I say louder with the most authority I can project. We can’t do this. Not on day one. And definitely not hours into a project that will take me months to complete, even with the best team in my corner.

Instead of listening to me his hand lifts- slow, careful, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch is brief but devastating. How am I ever going to pull this off? This job will make me the senior vice president of the company and here I am.. visiting ghosts in Oklahoma.

My breath catches, traitorous and loud. “You still react,” he murmurs. “The exact same way you always did, Sloane.”

“Don’t,” I reply- too fast, too breathless. I want him to stop but my body remembers how much he owns me. But my voice isn’t steady. It’s unsure. It’s inviting- if anything. I’m doomed. “Rhett, We can’t- we can not” I say sternly. he pauses and processes for a brief moment, and steps back away from me, thank the heavens maybe I can gain some control of the situation. “I know,” he says with a growl in his throat that almost tears me apart “That’s the problem.” His thumb brushes my jaw, feather-light. Another touch. Another move. My skin hums where he touches me, every nerve screaming in memory. My heart tells me, we want this- we need this. But my brain reminds me- Finish the job Sloane. We have shut everyone and everything out. Everything. but this man rushes back in, with his good looks and comments and you’re toast? we can’t lose. Don’t lose. I look up into those brown eyes and for just one reckless second, I think he might kiss me. I think I want him to. I think I might let him.

Instead, he drops his hand and steps back, jaw tight, eyes cold, like restraint costs him everything. “We’ll work together,” he says, voice rough now. “Professionally.” I nod, even though my body is still leaning toward him. “That’s for the best, Rhett.” Although part of me is let down. What’s wrong with me? I knew before coming here I was over him and he was over me. Now I’m willing to plead like a school girl? Lord, please get me out of Oklahoma and fast.

“You’re dismissed Ms. Hart” he says dismissively with a curt nod before he walks around his large oak desk- a desk I wouldn’t mind testing out in the future- lord help me, what am I thinking? Rhett pauses looking just as dangerous and dismissive as he is. “Very well, Mr. Whitmere.” I swallow hard. Letting his name bite off of my tongue with all of the malice I can produce. “Thank you for your time. I would love to thank the Whitmere Estate on behalf of all of us at Westwood Interiors. We look forward to completing this project, efficiently and in no time” I fumble my words quickly. He dismisses me with a wave- a wave.

This man is unnerving, I think to myself as I gather my briefcase and march to his stupid private elevator. As I descend the eleventh floor, I realize something terrifying. Something mind blowing. This isn’t unresolved tension. This isn’t a business deal. It’s unfinished love

SLOANE

“Ms. Hart” the front desk attendant starts shouting loudly towards me the moment I step from the elevator- I try to picture anyone else in this building as Ms. Hart and not me, not the full fledged professional that was reduced to dust up there. “Ms. Hart” she continues, following me and making a scene- restaurant goers stop consuming their salads and drinks like I’m a criminal at this point- watching and waiting.

I spin on my heels and turn and face the young girl- looking at her she’s maybe sixteen. Blonde, young, the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in real life- and she looks scared “Yes?” I say to her breathlessly trying to make it look like I just didn’t see or hear a hotel employee. “Ms. Hart,” she says again, so worried “I didn’t want to upset you But Mr. Whitmere wanted me to remind you that you are a special VIP guest and your quarters are located on floor eleven with the rest of the special guests and family.” As she relays the end of her message she tugs at her blonde braid hanging over one shoulder “I’m really sorry about this ma’am” she stumbles- “I know you seem really ready to leave- but I really need this job. My family depends on it. Please don’t let Mr. Whitmere or his colleagues find out I sleep on the job” she said with her eyes downcast, still fidgeting with her hair. “Fine.” I say briskly but not without the fakest elegant smile I can obtain- I read her nametag briefly. “Maya” I say sweetly- “I forgot in the haste of wrapping up my meeting, that I was not to stay in the rental I was provided by my company for the next foreseeable future. Please forgive me” I concluded with a smile. What a nightmare. Maya breathed out a sigh of relief and took me by the arm- “of course Ms. Hart, business meetings are tough- let me whisk you up to your room and then I’ll arrange for that forgotten luggage that must be at that location” she said with the largest smile I’ve ever seen as she trugs me back to that damned elevator.

“Ma’am thank you so much” Maya says as the elevator closes- “you don’t know how much I need this job, thank you again” she says with a genuine smile. Not surprised I think in my head. This family loves power. They crave owning people smaller than them. As the elevator opens back to the floor I just left- I really take it in this time without Rhett clouding my brain. It’s much different than the lobby. The colors are rich and warm. They feel like home. Not stark, contrasting colors dripped in elegance, like the lobby that conveys status and wealth and all things perfect and powerful- here it’s like an actual home. Rich wood and jewel tones surround me. Curated arts- for pleasure, not status. Maya says “all the paintings in this wing were custom painted for Mr Whitmere by his late sister in law, Candice Whitmere. Unfortunately she passed away, but all of these beautiful paintings exist because of her.” Wow. I think to myself. I know family means more to the Whitmeres than anything, so did she. Green plants in various pots, small trinkets on shelves and tables that resemble real life. Maya's voice plays in my head but all I hear are snippets as I take in the beauty around me “special guests, important guests, friends of the family” I’m definitely none of these I smirk. Then she continues “to the west are all the family offices and suites. To the east is Mr. Whitmere's office and his private rooms. Mr. Whitmere’s rooms all use one key card. He requested you have one upon check-in to your room.” She states as I follow her- “ah, ha we have arrived at your room Ms Hart.” She says with a smile. I’m wary looking at the door. A placard to the right of the door reads The Magnolia Room. It has a fully adorned magnolia carved door, covered with raindrops as far as I can see- and conveniently located right across from Rhett’s office I was in earlier. I smile- “Thank you Maya for your hospitality” as I reluctantly take the key card to my room. And his.

I swipe my card, throw my briefcase and purse into the room without even glancing around or turning on the lights and head straight back towards the elevator. The lobby bar is easy to find. It’s located straight across from the lobby bar. It doesn’t mirror the marble front desk- instead it’s dark walnut like the trim in the lobby. Crystal lighted shelves line the wall behind it displaying every kind of liquor you could imagine. The bar is lined with green velvet stools, that are littered with people.

I slide into a stool and give the bartender a nod. Then I hear it sliding through the air, soft but it feels like it’s stabbing me with a knife.

“That’s her.”

“Rhett’s girl.”

“After what her father did…”

“Bold coming back.”

“Guess she thinks money erases everything.”

I don’t order anything. I slide from the velvet seat. Headed to the elevator and me are my thoughts.

I have to go find him, even if it is a mistake.

RHETT

The hotel is quiet in the way only expensive places get after midnight. It’s often my solitude. Nothing but me, my thoughts and my whiskey.

There’s no noise. No chaos. Just soft lighting, polished floors, and the hum of something always running beneath the surface- love, loss, money, power, and expectation.

I pour two fingers of my most expensive whiskey and lean against the bar in my office, staring out at the dark stretch of countryside beyond the windows. To some this would be the most beautiful place on earth. Stars as far as the eyes can see- green grass and landscape even further. But to me it’s a prison. A place I’ve made for two people but only one of us is here. Until tonight.

I know she’s still here. I feel it. I had tried to make sure of it. I even convinced the poor blonde girl at the front desk to make sure she remained- no matter what. A handsome bonus included. She seemed frightened- but determined at that challenge and wanted to make me happy. Who wouldn’t want to? I own the place.

I’ve known since Sloane walked out of my office earlier- well when I dismissed her; and my chest didn’t stop tightening like I’d done something wrong just by letting her leave again. I should have forced her to stay. I should have begged if that’s what it took. I should have made the meeting last- for God's sakes. I’m paying her firm over seven figures at minimum for this remodel. Im lost in my thoughts about her- swirling my whiskey in the thick crystal Glass, when The knock comes soft. I almost think I imagined it- but here it comes again

Soft. Measured. Like she’s giving me a chance to say no. “Come in Sloane ,” I said huskily.

Sloane steps inside cautiously, she’s barefoot now. Her hair is looser, makeup gone, she looks like she stepped out of the shower then just dressed ready to see me- her silk dress traded for something softer- a cashmere sweater, black leggings better than any designer dress could look on her body. She looks less armored like this. More dangerous. More calculating.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says timidly, looking at me through her lashes. I nod once. Understanding. “Whiskey?” She hesitates, a look on her face of turmoil “Neat.” She replies.

I turn to my bar and grab another crystal glass before filling it. When exactly did Sloane move from fuzzy navel wine coolers? When did she become a woman, who asks for whiskey? When the drink is acceptable I turn and head towards her and clear the space between us to hand her the glass. Our fingers brush. Our touch is Electric. Immediate. Unforgiving. She takes a sip and winces. I smile despite myself. “You never liked it,” I say. She hesitates for a momenta “I liked the idea of liking it. It’s for people like us - it’s status. You don’t see billionaires like you drinking vodka sodas- it’s all things powerful. Expensive whisky and scotch. Brandy too. And of course every fine wine.” She says quickly. Nervously. I then watch her swallow, her throat moving slowly, deliberately, and have to look away before memory knocks me flat. I retreat to the bar- my safe place.

She moves closer, leaning against the bar straight across from me. “This beautiful place,” she says quietly. “You built all of this. It’s marvelous- I’m speechless.” She says as she sips her whiskey.

“Yeah.” I affirm.

“I always knew you would.” She sighs, holding the cup to her perfect lips. There’s something fragile in that- admiration edged with regret. “I built it because I didn’t know what else to do with the anger,” I say. Her gaze lifts to mine. I feel like she really sees me in this moment. Her Green eyes soften and glisten in the shadows “I never meant to hurt you, Rhett.”

“I know,” I say, even though that truth took years to settle. A decade even- and is it settled? Because it feels fresh. “It doesn’t mean it didn’t.” I reply.

Silence stretches between us, thick and charged. The room feels like it will implode at any second. Sloane sets her glass down on the marble bar top, hands folding together like she’s steadying herself.

“Why does it still feel like this?” she asks, looking straight through me . “Like no time passed at all Rhett?” I step closer before I can stop myself. Close enough that her breath warms my chest and my neck. “Because some things don’t fade,” I growl. “They wait.” Her eyes flick to my mouth.

Then back to my eyes. “If we cross this line,” she whispers, “there’s no pretending afterward.” “I’m done pretending,” I say.

Her breath stutters. Mine does too. For a moment- just one singular moment I think she’s going to close the distance. She’s going to give us both our last ten years back.

Instead, she presses her palm flat against my chest. Right over my heart. Her hand is firm; pushing ever so slightly. The contact is simple.

It’s devastating.

“I came here for a business deal, Rhett.” She says softly, “but aside from that, if.. even if I stay this time… even if I’m a crazy person and want to come back, I need to know I’m not doing it alone.” I cover her hand with mine, holding it there, feeling the truth in my bones. “You never were.” I replied more sure than anything I’ve ever felt. She exhales, long and shaky, and steps back; breaking the moment, but not the connection.

“Goodnight, Rhett.”

“Goodnight, Sloane.”

She turns and leaves my office, and the room feels emptier than it did before she walked in. But for the first time in ten years.. I don’t feel hopeless.

I feel like something has finally started.