Forever Yours, Almost - Whitmere Family Legacy - Book 1

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.