Forever Yours, Almost. Whitmere Family Legacy Book 1

Chapter One - The One I Left Behind

SLOANE

The first thing I see when I pull up at The Whitmere Hotel is his truck. White. Lifted. Massive Tires. Every accessory he could buy in the state of Oklahoma. And who could miss that custom front bumper with the Whitmere family brand right on the front? Parked front and center crooked like it owns the place.

Just like him.

My pulse stutters, the breath rushing from my chest. How will this ever work? I learned a long time ago that wanting something doesn't make it safe to choose. I can't do this- even after ten years of telling myself I'm over Rhett Whitmere.

I'm over him, I remind myself.

I'm over him in the way his name still feels like a bruise- one I press just to see if it hurts. It does.

Of course it does.

Sitting in my rental I'm just reflecting back on my drive into Whitmere county, as I marvel at this place. In the morning sun I passed the plains of Oklahoma after leaving the City- there were sprawling ranches and farms before pulling into my hometown. The place I vowed to never return. The town square hadn't really changed, I noticed as I pulled through. It featured everything that showed the Whitemeres' owned this county. Each side of the street was aligned with perfectly manicured brick storefronts- and sidewalks, flower beds that look strategically planned, beautifully decorated store windows displaying their offerings, flyers of local events plastered at each store, and people strewn about doing shopping before heading to their sprawling ranches, headed into the diner, or to dinner at the steakhouse, or a even for a drink at the downtown bar. What hadn't changed was the gossip and glances directed toward me. Even through these rental car windows- their stares, and I know the comments were lingering in the air heavier than the humidity.

Thank God I made it through the town square when everyone was out and about- I thought to myself. I'd hate for the gossip to travel slowly. As I look out my window at the massive hotel grounds, it's beautiful. It's a sprawling hotel. And that's what breaks me- because it's everything we once dreamed in quiet margins.

On the outside, it's tan stucco with a copper roof that glints in the sunlight. I can see several peaks in the roof which probably house ballrooms or something just as grand- huge terraces are on either side on the first and second floors, with a huge covered front terrace with sitting areas and fire pits. The lawn is perfectly manicured with bushes, shrubs, and trees scattered throughout with multiple beautiful flower gardens. Behind the hotel I can see he's built his own magnolia grove. In the distance beyond the hotel I can see a pond and walking paths. And on top of the hill- the Whitmere Estate. A mansion I thought I'd never see again.

You did it, Rhett, I think- knowing he did it for a future I was supposed to stand inside.

I pull down the mirror to check my appearance, adjust my sunglasses and still my breath. "You've got this Sloane. It's been 10 years. He no longer matters to you, and you definitely don't matter to him. I grab my purse and briefcase beside me and open the door to my dark gray airport- rented Toyota Camry. I told sweet little old lady that looked just like Mrs. Clause I wanted to blend in with everyone in a small Oklahoma town- and she pulled it off perfectly even though it's closer to dusk, and I really don't need these sunglasses I try to convince myself there's nothing left here to hide from.

With that self pep talk- I move from the car, parked correctly, I might add. And move along the walking path in the perfectly manicured lawn and head into the entrance to The Whitmere Hotel.

I set my briefcase down on the beautiful marble floor as I pulled my sunglasses off. This place is absolutely magnificent. The photos and blueplans provided in the business proposal snagged by my firm just didn't do it any justice.

As I soak in every detail it's all there- things that were just a feverdream for two kids are staring at me in the most beautiful hotel I've ever seen. It's proof I never really left at all.

As I'm breathless looking at the hotel- I feel him. That's the thing no one tells you about first loves. You don't just remember them. You sense them.

"Sloane."

I turn to face the person who I destroyed and the person who destroyed me- the man forged from a boy I broke- Rhett Whitmere. He stood with his arms crossed observing me near an elevator. His brown eyes looked straight through me. His voice is deeper now too, Rougher. Like time sharpened it. He has stubble already from his morning shave but he looks the part as I knew he would- in a perfect fitting navy suit with the top 2 white buttons of his white shirt open. The thing that set Rhett apart from the business men I was used to dealing with- those custom cowboy boots that must have cost a fortune. Rhett's brown hair was clean cut and well styled but you could see a slight curl too it still, like he had run his hands through it all afternoon. And the smell- like spiced whiskey and amber. One I couldn't forget if I tried.

"Rhett" I say as loud as I can possibly muster which is just over a whisper at this point.

"Well," he drawls. "You came back." I lift my chin. "Looks like it." His jaw tightens- not with anger.

With restraint. And that's way worse.

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