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Natasha cracked her eyes open to the unfamiliar sight of golden sunlight pouring through the curtains. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten up after dawn. The experience reminded her way too much of waking up to the smell of her mother’s breakfast tacos; her siblings hollering at her to ‘get up now or I’ll eat yours.’ She had to shake her head to clear the memories. The action sent a searing spike of pain from the back of her head. Of course. The bump on the back of her head, the stress of being thrown from the horse, that was probably the culprit. Thinking of the accident led her thoughts to Rhett and the too-long moment between them that had occurred following…
He was going to kiss her. She was pretty sure. She had certainly been thinking about kissing him, and would have if Cecelia hadn’t interrupted.
She blinked away the spots and realized that the smell of bacon hadn’t come entirely from her imagination. She got up slowly and made her way to the source of the smell.
She stopped short at the sight of someone other than Cecelia standing by the stove. It was Rhett. The sandy blonde threw a glance over his shoulder at her. "Mornin' Firebird.” His voice sounded fresher and brighter than she had ever heard it. It gave her pause. That and him being the only one around this late in the morning.
"Where is everybody?"
He dumped the eggs on a plate. Natasha wouldn't deny watching his shoulders flex with the action. "They left early for church. Think there's some kind of potluck today, after the service."
"And you didn't go with them?"
There was a barely-too-long pause filled with the sizzle of a hot pan before, "Never really been good at all that stuff…" Natasha heard his voice try to pick up a note of levity to it as he went on, "Plus somebody had to feed you and make sure you don't hit your pretty little head again."
"Oh." The breath left her as he turned around. She wasn't used to seeing him so put together. He was in a clean white shirt with one of his flannels on top. Always a flannel, rolled up at the elbows to keep it out of his way. It meant she could watch his forearms flexing as he washed his hands.
He didn't seem to notice her distraction as he grinned. "Don't act so surprised. I'm a perfectly capable cook."
The notion that he was good in the kitchen wasn't the part that surprised her. The fact that he wanted to take care of her—and missed an important family event to do so—was the surprise. It had been a while since anyone had done something so thoughtful for her.
She wasn't sure how to respond so she continued the teasing as he reached for some of the dishes he'd made. "I knew those hands had to be good for more than fixing barns and wrangling horses."
"Been thinking about my hands, Pilot?" The question was lighthearted but Natasha wished she could see his face to know whether or not he was kidding. She couldn't deny her attraction to him anymore and she wanted, no, needed, to know if the feeling was mutual.
She took a chance and said boldly, "A little bit, yeah. Ever since I got a sneak peak yesterday."
The clatter of the pan falling into the sink was the answer she got. She gave a tiny huff of laughter as she looked down at the table to let Rhett recover from his temporary fumble. There were a couple of small flowers in front of the seat closest to her, soft purple ones accompanied by tiny white ones, wrapped in a single blade of grass. When she looked back up, she found him facing her with his hands full of food. "Are these for me, Cowboy?"
He set down plates of bacon, eggs, and potatoes, not meeting her eyes. "Don't see anyone else around, do you?" He asked, softly. His cheeks had gone pink, standing out from the cool blue and green tones of his plaid shirt.
She smiled as she sat across from him, "You better watch it, or I might start to think I'm growing on you."
He mumbled something under his breath, which she ignored as he handed the plate to her. The savory smell reminded her stomach how empty it was and she immediately dug in.
When she had finished eating, she broke the silence that had ensued, nearly laughing as she realized, "It's been a long time since I've slept past sunrise. I think I was nineteen?"
Rhett got a ridiculous grin on his face as he gave her a once-over, "Tell me, was nineteen year old Natasha as much of a menace as thirty two year old Natasha?"
She snorted, thinking of all the fights with her family about picking a college and a major. She'd tried to stall her decision by taking a gap year after high school, but they had all hounded her about 'this university' or 'that medical program' until the day she'd spitefully declared to her family full of doctors and college professors that the only institution she had any interest in was the Naval Academy. She had proudly announced to her slack-jawed extended family—which included her mortified parents—that she was going to be a fighter pilot and there was nothing they could do to stop her. She never looked back.
"Even moreso, because she didn't have the ability to get up in a plane and shoot her problems down."
Rhett nodded in understanding before straightening up, "Maybe that's for the better, who knows what kinda mayhem she woulda been with a trigger under her finger." He rose, taking several of the now empty dishes to the sink.
Natasha stood to follow him only to be slammed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. The plate in her hand clattered to the table as she swayed and tried to steady herself. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut to clear her swimming vision, so she didn't see but rather felt when Rhett caught her. Bright dots popped behind her eyelids. She reached for him and grounded herself in the warmth of his arms. The smell of cotton and something smokey folded around her. His voice was warm against ear as he murmured, “Whoa! Easy there, steady.”
When the unpleasant feeling had passed, she peeled her eyes open. His deep blue gaze was flickering all over her face, his brow furrowed in concern. She tried to lighten the moment, “Do you make a habit of talking to women like they’re horses?”
He didn’t let go as he answered. “Only when they’re stubborn fighter pilots who don't know when to take it easy.”
They stood like that for a moment, his hands on her waist. Natasha swore her skin burned everywhere he touched her. She took note of the dampness of his hair and realized he must have showered recently, explaining his clean smell and warm skin. His shoulders flexed under her hands, like he was fighting an instinct to pull her closer. He did that a lot, she noticed. Stopping himself from being happy. She wanted to scream at him to take the chance.
She saw the moment he noticed their proximity too, several emotions flitting across his face within the span of seconds. Once they'd settled, he tried to step away but Natasha held on. He froze, taking a selfish chance to study her. The way the sunlight hugged her cheekbones. How the rays melted the brown of her eyes into a golden bronze color. The slight curl to her loose hair and how it framed her face. The intoxicating, spice-and-citrus scent that seemed to follow her. He'd been pulling away to keep himself from doing what he desperately wanted to but knew would only end in heartache.
For weeks now, he'd been dancing on the knife's edge of reckless hope that she might feel something for him and bitter despair that she would never want to be with a man like him. Yesterday he had been moments away from telling, and showing her exactly how he felt. And she had seemed inclined to let him. But they'd been interrupted and he'd had time to remind himself that he had no right to take advantage of her. No right to want the things he did. No right to want her. But here, in this empty kitchen, she held onto him again. And his stupid, wild heart dared to wonder.
Natasha watched him and felt like she was staring down the barrel of a complete and total free-fall. The kind that none of her training could prepare her for and where she couldn't see the ground she was headed for. But she'd never been one to shy away from the risky and dangerous.
"Have you decided yet?"
"Decided what?" His voice had taken on a rough edge.
"If you're going to cowboy up and kiss me or not. I know you wanted to, back in the barn."
His eyes went wide with shock. He didn't think he'd been so obvious; however, she seemed to have a knack for reading him and no qualms about confronting him. "I didn't— I wasn't sure you wanted me to."
Natasha let her gaze fall to his mouth. "I want you to now, Rhett."
His eyes dropped to her lips as he started to respond, until they both caught the sound of a vehicle approaching the house. His head whipped around towards the door and then back to her. The look he gave her was so full of surprise and panic that she couldn't help but laugh just a little at his expense, "Better make up your mind quick, Rodeo."
Before she could blink, his rough hands, which fit so perfectly into her curves, pulled her tightly against him and his mouth claimed hers. Her whole body lit up, responding with enthusiasm. She ran a hand through his hair to lightly tug him away at the sound of a truck door slamming. She grinned and pressed her lips under his ear as she whispered, "Guess we'll have to save the rest for later, huh Cowboy?"
"I'm far from done with you, Firebird." The growl in Rhett's voice nearly made her weak in the knees again.
It took everything in him to pull away from her and continue picking up the dishes as the rest of the family returned. He couldn't stop himself from giving her just one last look that he hoped didn't give away how much he meant that last promise.