Easy Charm by Kristen Proby
“Yes, he is big,” Kate replies¸ still laughing, knowing that she’s grossing us all out.
“Stop it right now,” I demand, covering my ears with my hands. “I’m too young to know this.”
“Right.” Charly rolls her eyes. Charly is the eldest sister. She decided a long time ago that the family business of running Bayou Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar ship building enterprise, wasn’t for her, and instead she owns an adorable shoe boutique in the Quarter called Head Over Heels. She’s classy, put together, and smart as can be.
“I think we’re all too young to know this,” Savannah adds. Van is the middle sister, and Declan, our youngest brother’s twin.
There are a lot of us.
“Why do you ask if you don’t really want to know?” Kate asks and takes a sip of her sweet tea.
“Because Gabby was trying to get the attention off of her,” Charly replies with a sweet grin, her hazel eyes pinned to me.
“You’re not nearly as sweet as you’d like us all to believe,” I inform her.
“Yes I am,” she replies. We all carry the sound of Louisiana in our voices, but Charly’s seems to be the thickest. It always makes me smile.
“Hi Mom!” Sam calls from the barn that he and Rhys just came out of. He’s waving wildly until I wave back, then turns his attention back to the tall baseball player at this side.
Who happens to be grinning this way.
“I think the better question is, how are things going with Rhys?” Savannah’s eyes are lighter than the rest of us, and they are lit with more humor now than I’ve seen from her since she left her husband a few months ago.
That abusive piece of shit.
“What do you mean?” I shift in my seat. Do not look at him. He’s just a man.
“Oh stop,” Charly replies and watches the baseball player unabashedly, licking her lips when he begins pushing some kind of heavy sled thing across the pasture. “He’s a prime specimen of man. Surely you’ve noticed.”
“Ew,” Kate says with a frown.
“Turnabout is fair play.” Van laughs and watches Rhys with calculating eyes while sipping her sweet tea through a straw.
“So spill it,” Charly insists and leans forward in her seat. “Has he kissed you?”
“He’s a guest!” I cover my face with my hands and lean back in my chair. “I’m running a business here.”
“Oh, please,” Kate says with a flick of the wrist. “I mean, yes you are, and it’s awesome, but it’s okay to have a private life too.”
“I have a child.”
“Who loves him,” Charly says and gestures with her head for me to look.
Rhys has taken all the weight off the sled and is helping Sam push it, encouraging him with every step.
And my heart melts, just a little more.
“Yeah, he’s good with Sam.”
I’ve told Sam to leave him be, but every time Rhys insists that he enjoys Sam’s company and that when he needs a break, he’ll tell Sam.
“Rhys loves kids,” Kate says with a smile.
I keep my mouth shut for a moment, and then decide, screw it. These are my sisters. I trust them more than anyone in the world.
“I don’t do the flirting thing well,” I admit and fold a pink napkin into eighths.
“Why not?” Kate asks with a frown.
“Because,” Van replies softly, her light eyes on mine, “she had a baby when she was very young and hasn’t had the chance to flex her flirting muscles since she got pregnant.”
I blink at her for a moment and then nod. “That about covers it.”
“I say you practice on that tall drink of water over there,” Charly says.
“Right.” I snort and shake my head. “The first time I try, he’ll laugh at me. He’s a professional athlete, Charly. I don’t want or need to be another notch in his belt.”
“It’s true that in his rookie days Rhys was a bit of a man-whore,” Kate says.
“Kate! That’s your cousin you’re talking about.” Van looks outraged, then giggles.
“Hey, he’ll admit the same,” Kate says reasonably. “But he hasn’t been that way in a long time, Gabs. We joke about it, but he’s been so focused on baseball, I couldn’t tell you when the last time was that he had a girlfriend.”
Interesting.
“Has he flirted with you?” Charly wants to know. I can’t help but think of the night on the porch when he sifted his fingers through my hair. Or the occasions since then when he makes sure I don’t carry anything heavy, or compliments my hair.
“He seems to like my hair,” I reply softly.
“Flirt back,” Van suggests and lays her hand on my arm with encouragement. “You never know what might happen.”
“Mom!” Sam comes running into the gazebo. “Mr. Rhys let me push the sled! I pushed seventy-five pounds, all by myself!”
“That’s amazing,” I reply and ruffle his hair. “You’re strong, that’s for sure.”
“I know.”
“Say hello to your aunts.” Sam takes turns hugging and chatting with each of his aunts, who kiss his cheeks, and he wipes the kisses off just to get more.
Although he’d deny that until the day he dies.
“Hello, ladies,” Rhys says as he joins us. “Having fun?”
He stands to my side and rests his hand on my shoulder, perking my nipples right up.
Damn freaking nipples.
“Don’t you know?” Charly replies with her eyes on his hand. “We always have fun.”
Rhys grips a strand of my hair in his fingers and begins to twirl it absentmindedly. “I believe it,” he replies with a wink. “Do you come out here for lunch often?”
“Not as often as we would like,” Van says. “You look good, Rhys.”
“Thanks, darling. You are beautiful, as always.”
Van laughs, then sobers. “Thanks. How long are you here?”
I feel him shrug beside me, my hair still in his fingers, but then he starts to just comb my hair, sifting the strands through his fingers, and I want to purr.
And three sets of eyes, two hazel and one the same deep green as her cousin’s, are on me.
Challenging me.
Daring me.
Shit, what in the ever-loving hell am I supposed to do?
I bite my lip and clench my eyes closed for just a heartbeat, and when I open them, the girls are grinning.
He must have said something funny. I have no idea, because I’ve suddenly been struck deaf.
I hope it’s not permanent.
All I can feel are Rhys’s fingers in my hair and his body close to mine, so I decide to do what comes naturally. I lean into his touch, and rest my face on his side, as he continues to play with my hair.
He doesn’t even miss a beat. He doesn’t seem surprised, or taken aback. He just keeps running those fingers through my hair and talks to my sisters and Kate.
But Charly’s eyes have widened, and Van has a proud tilt to her lips, and I’m proud with her. I did it. I flirted back.
And, oh dear sweet heaven above, does the hard wall that is his side feel good against my face. The man is pure muscle. I want to pull his T-shirt up and lick him, but I restrain myself.
Barely.
“We should go,” Van says as she stands. “Kate and Eli have a date in a few hours.”
“Let’s help Gabby clean up first,” Kate says as I pull away from Rhys’s side, and he steps back. But when I look up at him, his green eyes are bright and warm and he’s sporting that sexier than all get-out half-smile.
That smile holds promises.
And promises of what, I’m not sure yet, but I think I want to find out.
“No, you all go on.” Rhys steps forward, authority in every line of his body.
Damn, if that isn’t hot.
“The men will clean up while Gabby walks you out.”
I frown and shake my head. “This isn’t your job.”
“Oh please,” Kate replies before Rhys can. “Let th
e man earn his keep. Come with us.”
I don’t like it. He’s a guest. He shouldn’t be clearing a table. But I am swept away with the others to their cars.
“I’m so happy you came,” I say and hug each of them. “We need to do this more often.”
“Sounds good,” Charly says as she hugs me. “Is Sam still going with Mama on her trip tomorrow?”
“Yes. Which reminds me, I need to get him packed.”
“Enjoy your alone time with Hottie McHotterson.” Charly wiggles her eyebrows, making me laugh. “I’m serious. Test out the flirting skills. There’s no harm in it.”
“She’s right,” Kate agrees. “And trust me when I say he likes you.”
“Oh, sugar, you got that right,” Van adds. “He couldn’t keep his hand out of your hair.”
“And when you laid your cheek on his side, I thought he was going to carry you off, caveman-style,” Charly whispers.
“No way. He didn’t even react,” I insist.
“You couldn’t see his eyes,” Kate replies. “We could. We know. Flirt with him. And keep us posted.”
“I think you’re all nuts.”
“You’re nuts to ignore the two-hundred pounds of delicious man under your own roof.”
***
“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Sam says with a worried frown as I fold his clothes and organize them into piles on his bed.
“You go every summer, buddy.” I march back to his dresser for more underwear and grab his swim trunks too. “It’s only for a week.”
“Eight days,” he reminds me. “Did you know that an ostrich eye is bigger than its brain?”
“Wow. They must have small brains.”
“Or big eyes,” Sam replies with a grin. My smart boy. And then he sobers again. “Sinceriously.”
“Sinceriously is not a word.”
“It means I’m sincerely serious,” he says and punches his fist into his baseball glove. “Won’t you miss me?”
“I’ll miss you every minute of the day,” I reply, and mean every word. “But your cousins in Florida love to see you, and Nannan loves to have you with her. It would hurt her feelings if you backed out now.”
Every summer we go through this, and every summer is the same. He’s nervous about leaving me, until he’s on the plane, and then it’s just a big adventure and I practically have to bribe him to come home.
“What about Mr. Rhys?”
I stop folding clothes and glance at my son, who continues to punch his fist into his mitt. “What about him?”
“Will he be gone when I get back?”
Ah, there it is.
“No, sweetie, he’ll still be here. He’s going to be here for a while.”
He lifts his big brown eyes to mine. “What if he doesn’t like me anymore when I get home?”
I laugh and begin organizing his suitcase.
“Now you’re just being silly. Of course he’ll still like you. I still like you when you come home, don’t I?”
“You have to like me. You’re my mama.”
I sit on the bed and pull him into my lap. When did he get so big?
“I love you, and Rhys likes you, and none of that will change when you get home.”
He snuggles against me, and I bury my nose in his hair. “Promise?”
“Of course I promise.”
“When do I get my dog?”
The change of subject makes me grin. “When it’s old enough to come home. About a month, I guess.”
“Okay.”
He scrambles off my lap and tosses a baseball into his suitcase. “Last year, Lennie lost my ball, so I better take a spare.”
“Good idea.”
“What are we having for dinner?”
“Fried chicken with collard greens and grits.”
“My favorite!”
“Of course. You’re going to be gone for a whole week.”
“Eight days.”
***
I can hear the guests chatting and laughing in the drawing room. It’s evening, and even on a Saturday night, they’ve returned to the inn rather than get wild and crazy in the city. I made sure there was plenty of wine, treats, and soft drinks to keep them happy before coming into the kitchen to deal with the dishes.
I don’t mind washing dishes by hand. It gives me time to stop moving long enough to think. To make plans. To daydream.
“What are you doing?”
Apparently, I was daydreaming deep enough to not hear Rhys come in the kitchen.
“I’m waxing the floor,” I reply sweetly. His eyes narrow as he approaches and takes in all of the dishes I still have to wash.
“Why are you doing all of this by hand?”
“Because the dishwasher died on me this morning. I need to call someone to come out and fix it, but I don’t want to pay weekend rates. Besides, the guests will be gone tomorrow.” I shrug and plunge a dinner plate in the soapy water, scrubbing furiously.
Rhys joins me, standing entirely too close.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Helping.”
“No. You help out all the time. I draw the line at washing dishes by hand.”
He smirks, grabs a towel and begins drying the dishes then putting them away. “You don’t need to wait on me hand and foot, Gabby.”
“Actually, I think that’s exactly what you’re paying me to do.”
“No,” he replies and brushes my hair behind my shoulder to avoid the water. “I’m paying to sleep in a room.”
“I’m not going to argue about this.”
“Good plan.”
Don’t argue, flirt!
Right. How do I do that, exactly?
“How was your day?” I ask, clearly failing at all things flirty.
“It was good. I had a call from a trainer that actually went well.”
“You did?” I glance up in surprise. I had no idea.
“Yeah, they want to check in each week to see how my workouts are going.”
“If Sam is bothering you when you workout—”
He slaps my ass with the dishtowel, then resumes drying dishes. “I told you he doesn’t bother me. He’s good company. Smart as hell, that kid.”
“I know.” I nod proudly. “His homework is gonna scare me next year.”
“He’s a good baseball player too,” Rhys adds. “He says you practice with him sometimes.”
“I play catch with him. It seems to be the only thing that saves my windows.” Rhys smirks, and that smile makes me clench my legs and my fists, and heat settles low and steady in my belly.
I want to freaking climb this man, and I’ve never had that urge a day in my life.
He brushes by me, braces his hand on my low back as he passes, again making me catch my breath, then returns to dry more dishes.
We fall into a quiet, comfortable silence, the sound of the water sloshing the only sound in the room, aside from the occasional laugh from the drawing room.
“Tell me about you and Kate,” I murmur.
“Ah, ‘tis a sad story,” he begins with an Irish brogue, making me smile. “And that makes you smile. You have a beautiful smile.” He drags the pad of his thumb down my cheek to my jawline, and every nerve in my body is suddenly on high alert. “You should never stop smiling.”
“I liked your brogue,” I whisper, watching his lips, which tip up.
“I’m sure you know we’re Irish.”
“The O’Shaughnessy sort of gave it away,” I agree. “Plus, I know Kate.”
“Have you heard this story?”
“Not from you,” I reply and scrub the pan that I fried the chicken in.
“Fair enough.” He nods and takes the pan from my hands, scrubbing it himself, just a bit harder than I can. When it’s clean, he dries it and I resume washing. “So, Kate’s da and my da were brothers. Kate’s parents moved to the Denver area before she was born, for her da’s work.”
“Are you older than her?” I ask, interrupting him.
>
“Yes, but only by a couple years.” I nod and he continues. “When I was four, my parents and I were in a car accident. They were both killed.”
I still, my hands still in the water, and turn to watch him. His face hasn’t changed. He’s telling the story as if it happened to someone else.
And, I pray to God that he doesn’t remember it, so that’s how it feels to him.
“How did you survive?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not sure. I know that I was pulled from the car by the first responders, but my parents were killed on impact.”
I dry my hands and wrap my arms around Rhys’s middle, holding him close, my cheek pressed to his chest. I can’t help it. That poor boy.
“Hey, I’m okay.” But he wraps his arms around me and kisses my head, then takes a long, deep breath. “But if I’d known this was the way to get you into my arms, I would have told you this story days ago.”
I laugh and pull away, then flick some clean water in his face, just for good measure. “Keep going.”
“Will you hug me again?” He’s playing. His mouth is smiling, but his green eyes have warmed again and he sighs as he waits for my answer.
“If you’re good.”
“Oh, sugar, I’m rarely good.” The raspy tone of his voice reignites that heat low in my belly. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “But I’m very, very good at being naughty.”
I turn my face to his; our lips are inches apart, our noses almost touching.
“I believe you,” I whisper, then take a deep breath when his eyes dilate and drop to my lips.
Which I lick.
Because hello, I just found my inner flirt.
And I like her. A lot.
“Keep going,” I repeat.
He clears his throat and turns away, then picks up where he left off. “After my parents passed, Kate’s parents came to Ireland and claimed me. They were my only family. So they brought me back to Denver and raised me.”
“So you and Kate were really raised as siblings.”
He nods thoughtfully. “And I was immediately enrolled in T-ball, and that was it. I was lost to the sport forever.”
“Sam was the same,” I offer with a grin. “It seems that he’s had a glove on his hand since birth.”
“He’s a natural. And he loves you.”
That makes me smile wide.
“Does that surprise you?”
“No. I know he loves me, but it makes me happy when it’s obvious to others too. It’s been just the two of us for a really long time.”
“Stop it right now,” I demand, covering my ears with my hands. “I’m too young to know this.”
“Right.” Charly rolls her eyes. Charly is the eldest sister. She decided a long time ago that the family business of running Bayou Enterprises, a multi-billion dollar ship building enterprise, wasn’t for her, and instead she owns an adorable shoe boutique in the Quarter called Head Over Heels. She’s classy, put together, and smart as can be.
“I think we’re all too young to know this,” Savannah adds. Van is the middle sister, and Declan, our youngest brother’s twin.
There are a lot of us.
“Why do you ask if you don’t really want to know?” Kate asks and takes a sip of her sweet tea.
“Because Gabby was trying to get the attention off of her,” Charly replies with a sweet grin, her hazel eyes pinned to me.
“You’re not nearly as sweet as you’d like us all to believe,” I inform her.
“Yes I am,” she replies. We all carry the sound of Louisiana in our voices, but Charly’s seems to be the thickest. It always makes me smile.
“Hi Mom!” Sam calls from the barn that he and Rhys just came out of. He’s waving wildly until I wave back, then turns his attention back to the tall baseball player at this side.
Who happens to be grinning this way.
“I think the better question is, how are things going with Rhys?” Savannah’s eyes are lighter than the rest of us, and they are lit with more humor now than I’ve seen from her since she left her husband a few months ago.
That abusive piece of shit.
“What do you mean?” I shift in my seat. Do not look at him. He’s just a man.
“Oh stop,” Charly replies and watches the baseball player unabashedly, licking her lips when he begins pushing some kind of heavy sled thing across the pasture. “He’s a prime specimen of man. Surely you’ve noticed.”
“Ew,” Kate says with a frown.
“Turnabout is fair play.” Van laughs and watches Rhys with calculating eyes while sipping her sweet tea through a straw.
“So spill it,” Charly insists and leans forward in her seat. “Has he kissed you?”
“He’s a guest!” I cover my face with my hands and lean back in my chair. “I’m running a business here.”
“Oh, please,” Kate says with a flick of the wrist. “I mean, yes you are, and it’s awesome, but it’s okay to have a private life too.”
“I have a child.”
“Who loves him,” Charly says and gestures with her head for me to look.
Rhys has taken all the weight off the sled and is helping Sam push it, encouraging him with every step.
And my heart melts, just a little more.
“Yeah, he’s good with Sam.”
I’ve told Sam to leave him be, but every time Rhys insists that he enjoys Sam’s company and that when he needs a break, he’ll tell Sam.
“Rhys loves kids,” Kate says with a smile.
I keep my mouth shut for a moment, and then decide, screw it. These are my sisters. I trust them more than anyone in the world.
“I don’t do the flirting thing well,” I admit and fold a pink napkin into eighths.
“Why not?” Kate asks with a frown.
“Because,” Van replies softly, her light eyes on mine, “she had a baby when she was very young and hasn’t had the chance to flex her flirting muscles since she got pregnant.”
I blink at her for a moment and then nod. “That about covers it.”
“I say you practice on that tall drink of water over there,” Charly says.
“Right.” I snort and shake my head. “The first time I try, he’ll laugh at me. He’s a professional athlete, Charly. I don’t want or need to be another notch in his belt.”
“It’s true that in his rookie days Rhys was a bit of a man-whore,” Kate says.
“Kate! That’s your cousin you’re talking about.” Van looks outraged, then giggles.
“Hey, he’ll admit the same,” Kate says reasonably. “But he hasn’t been that way in a long time, Gabs. We joke about it, but he’s been so focused on baseball, I couldn’t tell you when the last time was that he had a girlfriend.”
Interesting.
“Has he flirted with you?” Charly wants to know. I can’t help but think of the night on the porch when he sifted his fingers through my hair. Or the occasions since then when he makes sure I don’t carry anything heavy, or compliments my hair.
“He seems to like my hair,” I reply softly.
“Flirt back,” Van suggests and lays her hand on my arm with encouragement. “You never know what might happen.”
“Mom!” Sam comes running into the gazebo. “Mr. Rhys let me push the sled! I pushed seventy-five pounds, all by myself!”
“That’s amazing,” I reply and ruffle his hair. “You’re strong, that’s for sure.”
“I know.”
“Say hello to your aunts.” Sam takes turns hugging and chatting with each of his aunts, who kiss his cheeks, and he wipes the kisses off just to get more.
Although he’d deny that until the day he dies.
“Hello, ladies,” Rhys says as he joins us. “Having fun?”
He stands to my side and rests his hand on my shoulder, perking my nipples right up.
Damn freaking nipples.
“Don’t you know?” Charly replies with her eyes on his hand. “We always have fun.”
Rhys grips a strand of my hair in his fingers and begins to twirl it absentmindedly. “I believe it,” he replies with a wink. “Do you come out here for lunch often?”
“Not as often as we would like,” Van says. “You look good, Rhys.”
“Thanks, darling. You are beautiful, as always.”
Van laughs, then sobers. “Thanks. How long are you here?”
I feel him shrug beside me, my hair still in his fingers, but then he starts to just comb my hair, sifting the strands through his fingers, and I want to purr.
And three sets of eyes, two hazel and one the same deep green as her cousin’s, are on me.
Challenging me.
Daring me.
Shit, what in the ever-loving hell am I supposed to do?
I bite my lip and clench my eyes closed for just a heartbeat, and when I open them, the girls are grinning.
He must have said something funny. I have no idea, because I’ve suddenly been struck deaf.
I hope it’s not permanent.
All I can feel are Rhys’s fingers in my hair and his body close to mine, so I decide to do what comes naturally. I lean into his touch, and rest my face on his side, as he continues to play with my hair.
He doesn’t even miss a beat. He doesn’t seem surprised, or taken aback. He just keeps running those fingers through my hair and talks to my sisters and Kate.
But Charly’s eyes have widened, and Van has a proud tilt to her lips, and I’m proud with her. I did it. I flirted back.
And, oh dear sweet heaven above, does the hard wall that is his side feel good against my face. The man is pure muscle. I want to pull his T-shirt up and lick him, but I restrain myself.
Barely.
“We should go,” Van says as she stands. “Kate and Eli have a date in a few hours.”
“Let’s help Gabby clean up first,” Kate says as I pull away from Rhys’s side, and he steps back. But when I look up at him, his green eyes are bright and warm and he’s sporting that sexier than all get-out half-smile.
That smile holds promises.
And promises of what, I’m not sure yet, but I think I want to find out.
“No, you all go on.” Rhys steps forward, authority in every line of his body.
Damn, if that isn’t hot.
“The men will clean up while Gabby walks you out.”
I frown and shake my head. “This isn’t your job.”
“Oh please,” Kate replies before Rhys can. “Let th
I don’t like it. He’s a guest. He shouldn’t be clearing a table. But I am swept away with the others to their cars.
“I’m so happy you came,” I say and hug each of them. “We need to do this more often.”
“Sounds good,” Charly says as she hugs me. “Is Sam still going with Mama on her trip tomorrow?”
“Yes. Which reminds me, I need to get him packed.”
“Enjoy your alone time with Hottie McHotterson.” Charly wiggles her eyebrows, making me laugh. “I’m serious. Test out the flirting skills. There’s no harm in it.”
“She’s right,” Kate agrees. “And trust me when I say he likes you.”
“Oh, sugar, you got that right,” Van adds. “He couldn’t keep his hand out of your hair.”
“And when you laid your cheek on his side, I thought he was going to carry you off, caveman-style,” Charly whispers.
“No way. He didn’t even react,” I insist.
“You couldn’t see his eyes,” Kate replies. “We could. We know. Flirt with him. And keep us posted.”
“I think you’re all nuts.”
“You’re nuts to ignore the two-hundred pounds of delicious man under your own roof.”
***
“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Sam says with a worried frown as I fold his clothes and organize them into piles on his bed.
“You go every summer, buddy.” I march back to his dresser for more underwear and grab his swim trunks too. “It’s only for a week.”
“Eight days,” he reminds me. “Did you know that an ostrich eye is bigger than its brain?”
“Wow. They must have small brains.”
“Or big eyes,” Sam replies with a grin. My smart boy. And then he sobers again. “Sinceriously.”
“Sinceriously is not a word.”
“It means I’m sincerely serious,” he says and punches his fist into his baseball glove. “Won’t you miss me?”
“I’ll miss you every minute of the day,” I reply, and mean every word. “But your cousins in Florida love to see you, and Nannan loves to have you with her. It would hurt her feelings if you backed out now.”
Every summer we go through this, and every summer is the same. He’s nervous about leaving me, until he’s on the plane, and then it’s just a big adventure and I practically have to bribe him to come home.
“What about Mr. Rhys?”
I stop folding clothes and glance at my son, who continues to punch his fist into his mitt. “What about him?”
“Will he be gone when I get back?”
Ah, there it is.
“No, sweetie, he’ll still be here. He’s going to be here for a while.”
He lifts his big brown eyes to mine. “What if he doesn’t like me anymore when I get home?”
I laugh and begin organizing his suitcase.
“Now you’re just being silly. Of course he’ll still like you. I still like you when you come home, don’t I?”
“You have to like me. You’re my mama.”
I sit on the bed and pull him into my lap. When did he get so big?
“I love you, and Rhys likes you, and none of that will change when you get home.”
He snuggles against me, and I bury my nose in his hair. “Promise?”
“Of course I promise.”
“When do I get my dog?”
The change of subject makes me grin. “When it’s old enough to come home. About a month, I guess.”
“Okay.”
He scrambles off my lap and tosses a baseball into his suitcase. “Last year, Lennie lost my ball, so I better take a spare.”
“Good idea.”
“What are we having for dinner?”
“Fried chicken with collard greens and grits.”
“My favorite!”
“Of course. You’re going to be gone for a whole week.”
“Eight days.”
***
I can hear the guests chatting and laughing in the drawing room. It’s evening, and even on a Saturday night, they’ve returned to the inn rather than get wild and crazy in the city. I made sure there was plenty of wine, treats, and soft drinks to keep them happy before coming into the kitchen to deal with the dishes.
I don’t mind washing dishes by hand. It gives me time to stop moving long enough to think. To make plans. To daydream.
“What are you doing?”
Apparently, I was daydreaming deep enough to not hear Rhys come in the kitchen.
“I’m waxing the floor,” I reply sweetly. His eyes narrow as he approaches and takes in all of the dishes I still have to wash.
“Why are you doing all of this by hand?”
“Because the dishwasher died on me this morning. I need to call someone to come out and fix it, but I don’t want to pay weekend rates. Besides, the guests will be gone tomorrow.” I shrug and plunge a dinner plate in the soapy water, scrubbing furiously.
Rhys joins me, standing entirely too close.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Helping.”
“No. You help out all the time. I draw the line at washing dishes by hand.”
He smirks, grabs a towel and begins drying the dishes then putting them away. “You don’t need to wait on me hand and foot, Gabby.”
“Actually, I think that’s exactly what you’re paying me to do.”
“No,” he replies and brushes my hair behind my shoulder to avoid the water. “I’m paying to sleep in a room.”
“I’m not going to argue about this.”
“Good plan.”
Don’t argue, flirt!
Right. How do I do that, exactly?
“How was your day?” I ask, clearly failing at all things flirty.
“It was good. I had a call from a trainer that actually went well.”
“You did?” I glance up in surprise. I had no idea.
“Yeah, they want to check in each week to see how my workouts are going.”
“If Sam is bothering you when you workout—”
He slaps my ass with the dishtowel, then resumes drying dishes. “I told you he doesn’t bother me. He’s good company. Smart as hell, that kid.”
“I know.” I nod proudly. “His homework is gonna scare me next year.”
“He’s a good baseball player too,” Rhys adds. “He says you practice with him sometimes.”
“I play catch with him. It seems to be the only thing that saves my windows.” Rhys smirks, and that smile makes me clench my legs and my fists, and heat settles low and steady in my belly.
I want to freaking climb this man, and I’ve never had that urge a day in my life.
He brushes by me, braces his hand on my low back as he passes, again making me catch my breath, then returns to dry more dishes.
We fall into a quiet, comfortable silence, the sound of the water sloshing the only sound in the room, aside from the occasional laugh from the drawing room.
“Tell me about you and Kate,” I murmur.
“Ah, ‘tis a sad story,” he begins with an Irish brogue, making me smile. “And that makes you smile. You have a beautiful smile.” He drags the pad of his thumb down my cheek to my jawline, and every nerve in my body is suddenly on high alert. “You should never stop smiling.”
“I liked your brogue,” I whisper, watching his lips, which tip up.
“I’m sure you know we’re Irish.”
“The O’Shaughnessy sort of gave it away,” I agree. “Plus, I know Kate.”
“Have you heard this story?”
“Not from you,” I reply and scrub the pan that I fried the chicken in.
“Fair enough.” He nods and takes the pan from my hands, scrubbing it himself, just a bit harder than I can. When it’s clean, he dries it and I resume washing. “So, Kate’s da and my da were brothers. Kate’s parents moved to the Denver area before she was born, for her da’s work.”
“Are you older than her?” I ask, interrupting him.
“Yes, but only by a couple years.” I nod and he continues. “When I was four, my parents and I were in a car accident. They were both killed.”
I still, my hands still in the water, and turn to watch him. His face hasn’t changed. He’s telling the story as if it happened to someone else.
And, I pray to God that he doesn’t remember it, so that’s how it feels to him.
“How did you survive?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not sure. I know that I was pulled from the car by the first responders, but my parents were killed on impact.”
I dry my hands and wrap my arms around Rhys’s middle, holding him close, my cheek pressed to his chest. I can’t help it. That poor boy.
“Hey, I’m okay.” But he wraps his arms around me and kisses my head, then takes a long, deep breath. “But if I’d known this was the way to get you into my arms, I would have told you this story days ago.”
I laugh and pull away, then flick some clean water in his face, just for good measure. “Keep going.”
“Will you hug me again?” He’s playing. His mouth is smiling, but his green eyes have warmed again and he sighs as he waits for my answer.
“If you’re good.”
“Oh, sugar, I’m rarely good.” The raspy tone of his voice reignites that heat low in my belly. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “But I’m very, very good at being naughty.”
I turn my face to his; our lips are inches apart, our noses almost touching.
“I believe you,” I whisper, then take a deep breath when his eyes dilate and drop to my lips.
Which I lick.
Because hello, I just found my inner flirt.
And I like her. A lot.
“Keep going,” I repeat.
He clears his throat and turns away, then picks up where he left off. “After my parents passed, Kate’s parents came to Ireland and claimed me. They were my only family. So they brought me back to Denver and raised me.”
“So you and Kate were really raised as siblings.”
He nods thoughtfully. “And I was immediately enrolled in T-ball, and that was it. I was lost to the sport forever.”
“Sam was the same,” I offer with a grin. “It seems that he’s had a glove on his hand since birth.”
“He’s a natural. And he loves you.”
That makes me smile wide.
“Does that surprise you?”
“No. I know he loves me, but it makes me happy when it’s obvious to others too. It’s been just the two of us for a really long time.”