As Rhett walked his mother to her car, Shawn busied herself shoving the bridal magazines into a pile and cramming them into the desk in the corner of the living room. Then she carried dirty coffee mugs to the kitchen and filled the sink with soapy water.
“You’re always doing dishes,” Rhett said when he came back in. “Why don’t you use the dishwasher?”
“It’s broken. I don’t have the money to replace it.” It was a hated chore, but then again, weren’t all chores hated by most people?
“What’s wrong with it? Did it actually die, or it’s just not getting dishes clean?”
“It’s not getting the dishes clean. There’s dried old food on them after an hour of water spritzing them. It makes no sense.” Though she wasn’t sure why they were talking about this.
“The jets are probably clogged.”
Before she realized what was going on, Rhett was on the floor, dishwasher door open, parts being inspected. “Where are your tools? I need a screwdriver.”
Was he for real? Shawn swished her hand to make the suds inflate. “You don’t have to fix my dishwasher.”
“It’s no big deal. It’ll take me ten minutes.” He smiled up at her. “Besides, if you’re washing dishes ten times a day, it’s going to cut into our sexy time.”
Oh, geez. She should have known. “I’m not planning to be horizontal the majority of my day. I don’t think doing the dishes is going to ruin our sex life.”
“Just a little insurance.” He stood up and kissed the back of her head. “Where is the screwdriver? And a drill would be helpful.”
“In the basement. Next to the washer and dryer.” She should have left it at that. But she wasn’t wired that way—she was a button pusher. So she added, “And who says I have any intention of having sex with you again? Just because you fix my dishwasher doesn’t mean I will lie down for you any time. I may need some convincing, you know.”
He stopped on his way across the kitchen and studied her. “You like to play this game, don’t you? You want me to get aggressive and throw you down on the floor and prove you like my attention.”
Maybe. “No, of course not. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hell, the truth was, she did want him to throw her down and make her forget that they were married. Which was messed up, she had to admit.
“Liar.” He laughed softly. “But the answer is no. Because I don’t dance on a puppet string. If you want me to f**k you, just ask and I’ll decide if I want to give it to you or not.”
Shawn felt her jaw drop. “You’ll decide? Oh, you’ll decide? Screw that!” Any sort of tender feelings she’d been having toward him disappeared pronto. She was sorry she’d let him gag her. Shawn Hamby was not to be gagged. She had things to say, damn it. Opinions that mattered. “I am not the kind of woman who is going to beg you for sex.”
“Who said anything about begging? I meant I think you’re strong enough to ask for what you want without dancing around in passive-aggressive style. Don’t hint, then expect me to do all the work. It doesn’t suit you.” With that, he went down the basement steps.
Shawn was tempted to throw a coffee mug at the back of his head. “Asshole,” she muttered in frustration, and it felt good. She didn’t understand him. At all.
Wouldn’t he want her to be sly about sex? Wasn’t that the point of a man who wanted to dominate? She was supposed to be coy and shy, and he was supposed to grab her and do her? He was right, she was willing to play that game. But this one? She didn’t even know what game they were playing, let alone what the rules were.
Which pissed her off. She didn’t like to lose. She was a born competitor.
So when he came back upstairs with tools in hand, knelt down, and leaned into the dishwasher, she couldn’t let it go. “I thought you wanted to do the work. I thought that was the whole freaking point. So what am I supposed to do, Rhett? What am I allowed to do? Not that I ever agreed to be your submissive, but what does a submissive do exactly if it’s not flirt, beg, hint, or demand?”
His head popped out of her dishwasher. “You’re supposed to trust me. You’re supposed to trust me enough to be honest and direct with me.”
It wasn’t an answer that was going to satisfy her. Ever. “How is this for direct? You can sleep in the guest room tonight.”
Rhett didn’t say anything, which further annoyed her. He just fiddled and unscrewed and pulled something that looked like a dead mouse—holy shit, was that a mouse?—out of her dishwasher. Shawn waited until he had dropped the pile of yuck he was holding, expecting him to answer her. But he didn’t.
“Aren’t you going to answer me?”
“I wasn’t aware that was a question,” he replied.
She threw her soapy sponge at him. “Don’t be a smart-ass.”
The sponge bounced off his knee, leaving a trail of suds down his shin. He didn’t even look up. “You told me I’m sleeping in the guest room. I told you that this is your house, and I’ll do whatever you say. So I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
That was a deflating response to her anger.
No. She definitely did not understand Rhett Ford.
“What happened to ordering Chinese food?” It was an emotional hook to hold on to her anger, she knew that. Was fully aware of how juvenile it was. Yet couldn’t stop herself from seeking some sin to lay at his feet.
“I came home early. But I can order it now if you’d like. I can go and pick it up.”
Said the man very respectfully as he fixed her dishwasher. She was stymied. “We can just get it delivered.”
Finishing the dishes, Shawn dried her hands off and reached for her cell phone. While Rhett worked, she found herself dialing for delivery, asking him what he wanted.
By the time the food arrived, he had finished with the dishwasher and was washing his hands. “We can test it with the Chinese food dishes,” he told her. “But it should run just fine now.”
“Thanks.” Because she was grateful and sheepish and uncomfortable. What was happening between them? It was something. It was nothing. It was nothing she’d ever encountered and nothing she understood.
She wanted to trust him, but to what end? She didn’t know. And she wasn’t quite there yet.
While eating, they talked about the track schedule and about Rhett’s car and who to hire as a marketing director. His advice was sound, his tone respectful. After watching the cup series race on TV, Shawn went to bed.