Easy Charm by Kristen Proby


  “You have your family,” he reminds me.

  “Absolutely.” I nod vigorously and pull the plug on the water, letting it drain now that all the dishes are washed. “And I don’t think I could have done this without them. Especially when he was small and I was so damn young.”

  “You’re amazing,” Rhys says quietly, leaning against the countertop.

  “Why?”

  “Your boy, this inn, who you are, are all something to admire about you. I saw you donate your day-old bread to the food bank.”

  “It shouldn’t go bad,” I insist. “Rhys, I’m flattered, but I’m not anything special. I’m a mom who loves her kid, and that should just be a given. I work hard. I give to the less fortunate. I’m just a woman.” I shrug and start to turn away, but I’m suddenly pinned against the countertop, Rhys’s big body caging me in. He’s leaning on his hands, lowering himself to my eye level.

  “You’re wrong. You are special.” His voice is raw and low. His thumb pulls the lower lip I didn’t realize I was biting out of my teeth. “You’re amazing, and I’ve barely scratched the surface with you.”

  “You sure push me outside my comfort zone,” I whisper, not realizing until I hear the words that I’m speaking aloud.

  “Nothing good ever came from comfort zones,” he counters and leans further into me. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “No.” I smile and drag my fingertips down his cheek, and he turns his lips into my palm, closes his eyes and kisses me gently before returning his gaze to mine. “I’m just not very good at this.”

  “Good at what, Gabby?”

  I swallow. Hard. My breath is coming fast. My heart is pounding. The lightning bugs in my belly are having one hell of a party.

  He nudges my nose with his. “Good at what?”

  “Flirting. This.” I shake my head. “It’s been a really long time.”

  “Good.” He grins and rubs his nose against mine again. His breath smells sweet from a scone he must have eaten before he came in here to find me. And just when I think he’s going to kiss me, and I mean really kiss me, he kisses my forehead and then backs away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To tell Sam more stories about last season. He told me about his trip tomorrow.” He tosses me a mischievous smile. “I’m going to have you all to myself for a week.”

  “Eight days,” I reply automatically, making his smile widen.

  “Eight days. So, I’ll give Sam some attention tonight, and then you’re all mine for eight days.”

  I frown and prop my hands on my hips, but inside I’m squealing like a teenager.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re going to exercise that flirty side, sugar.”

  And with that, he winks and leaves the kitchen, and I’m left standing in a puddle of lust.

  Jesus, what did I just start?

  Chapter Four

  ~Rhys~

  She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos.

  And the kicker is, you’d never fucking know it. But the struggle is there, behind her smile, in her eyes. I’ve learned her face, and I’ve known her just over a week. She’s beautiful, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to that, but it’s the whole package that has me tied in knots for the first time in… Jesus, I don’t remember. She’s funny, strong, kind. She’s stern with Sam, but loving and affectionate, too, and it’s obvious that the boy simply adores her.

  But right now, she’s sad. And it makes my stomach clench.

  “Mom, it’s going to be okay.” Sam smiles up at his mom as he slips his baseball cap on his head. “All of the guests are gone, so you won’t need me the rest of the day.”

  “Silly boy,” she replies and crouches down next to him, her smile firmly in place. “I need you every day. Not just around here, but because I’ve grown attached to you.” She smacks a kiss on his cheek, making him cringe and look my way, worried that his manliness might be in trouble.

  I’d give just about anything to have her lips on me.

  I smile at Sam and shrug, as if to say, “Women. What can you do?” Sam rolls his eyes and hugs his mom.

  “Nannan will be here soon,” Gabby says, but doesn’t let him go quite yet. “And you’re going to have so much fun.”

  “I know,” he replies just as Gabby’s mom pulls into the driveway. Sam and Gabby walk out to the car, and I follow more slowly, staying on the porch as they say goodbye.

  “Hello, dawlin’,” Mrs. Boudreaux says with a wide smile. “Are you ready for our adventure, Sam?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sam says with a grin then turns and waves at me. “Bye, Mr. Rhys!”

  “Have fun,” I reply with a wave and a smile. Goodbyes are said, hugs exchanged, and finally, Sam and his grandmother are pulling out of the driveway. Gabby doesn’t move, watching them drive away, waving with a smile. When the car disappears around the corner, her hand falls at her side and her shoulders droop. She props her hands on her hips and looks to the ground.

  Part of me is torn between letting her have her private moment and going to her, wrapping her in my arms, and holding on tight.

  Then she kicks a rock, and she looks so damn sad I can’t stand it. I walk down the steps and up behind her, wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. She’s such a small thing, fitting against me perfectly, tucked under my chin. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds onto my arms and sighs, then tips her head way back so she can look into my eyes, upside down.

  I automatically kiss her forehead. “Only be gone a week.”

  “Eight days,” she replies with a rough whisper.

  “But who’s counting?” I murmur and kiss her smooth skin once more before she turns in my arms and hugs me tightly around the middle, the way she did in her kitchen when she felt sorry for me last night. But rather than wanting to comfort, she needs to be comforted.

  I’ll gladly sign up for that job any day of the week.

  “I feel guilty,” she whispers after a long minute of us standing in the hot Louisiana sun.

  “Guilty?” I frown and take her hand, leading her to the shade of the porch, and her favorite swing. But rather than letting her sit beside me, I pull her into my lap and hold her tight.

  “I’m not sick, you know,” she says with a smirk. But her eyes say thank you, and she leans against me, tucking herself under my chin.

  “I know. Tell me why you feel guilty.”

  She sighs. “I struggle with it every summer. I’ll miss him, of course. Every minute of every day. But at the same time, it’s so nice to have a few days of alone time. To have a week—” She swallows. “Without him. And that makes me feel like a shitty mom.”

  “Everyone deserves a break, Gabby.” And if the piece of shit that fathered Sam had bothered to do his job, she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with the task of parenting alone.

  “I know.”

  “It doesn’t make you a bad mom to enjoy that break.”

  She simply shrugs, not convinced. I tip her chin up so I can see her eyes and it kills me to see tears welled in them.

  “You’re an amazing mama,” I say softly before laying my lips gently against hers, enjoying the way a shiver runs through her. “He knows you love him.”

  “I know that too.”

  “Good. So, what are you going to do with your reprieve?” I push my fingers through her hair, unable to resist. God, her hair is soft and smells amazing. The way she leans into my touch is sweet.

  She’s not touched often. She’s like a love-starved kitten, and I can’t wait to make her purr.

  Because I’m going to have her in my bed, or hers, very soon.

  “I have the inn,” she replies and frowns up at me.

  “So, the only difference between last week and this week is, you won’t have Sam here?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Oh, sweetheart, we can do so much better than that.

  “You don’t ever take a vacation?
” I push her hair behind her ear and drag my fingertips down her cheek, loving the way her skin feels against mine.

  She simply shakes her head, then sits up straight on my lap, bracing her hands on my shoulders so she can look at me.

  “I have the inn, and I love it. I don’t need a vacation from it.”

  Bullshit.

  But I don’t say anything; I simply watch her.

  “You don’t agree with me?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I agree or not.” No, I don’t fucking agree.

  “But you don’t.”

  “Gabby,” I begin, then stop and frown. “Is your name short for Gabrielle?”

  She blinks rapidly at the change of subject. “Yes, why?”

  “Just curious. It doesn’t matter if I agree. If I disagree, will you take the week off?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Exactly.”

  Finally, she scoots off my lap and runs her hands down her pretty white blouse and denim shorts, as though she’s smoothing wrinkles. “Thanks for the chat.”

  I stand next to her and cage her against the railing of the porch. “Look at me.”

  She raises her face to mine. Her eyes look almost gold today. They’re still a little sad, and I’m going to do my damnedest to change that, as soon as possible.

  She catches her lower lip between her teeth and braces her hands on my forearms, and there’s that awareness, shooting between us again.

  The chemistry is off the fucking charts.

  I pluck her lip out of her teeth, and want with all of my soul to lean in and kiss her. My thumb brushes over the damp skin of her lip as I lean in and sweep my lips over her soft forehead.

  “I have work,” she whispers, but doesn’t let go of me. “Sinceriously.”

  “Sinceriously?” I chuckle and comb my fingers through the hair at the back of her neck.

  “It’s a Sam word. He says it means he’s sincerely serious.”

  “Ah.” I kiss her forehead once more, acutely aware, with every seven-odd-billion nerves in my body, of her pressed against me. “Then I guess you should get to it.”

  She nods, her eyes closed, then snaps them open and ducks out of my arms. “Don’t you have something to do?”

  “I’m sure I can find something.”

  A cold shower might be a good place to start.

  She nods and disappears inside, closing the door behind her. I walk down the steps and between the ancient oak trees, take a deep breath to calm my freaking libido, and dial Kate’s number.

  “What’s up, handsome?”

  “Question.”

  “Answer.”

  I grin at her response. “How difficult would it be to have someone come cover at the inn for Gabby once or twice this week? During the evening, so I can take her out on a couple dates.”

  There’s a long pause, and then I can hear the smile in Kate’s voice as she says, “Are you sweet on Miss Gabby, cousin o’ mine?”

  “I am,” I reply truthfully. There’s no bullshitting anyone about this. I’m not ashamed of it. “So can you help me or not?”

  “I can help. I’ll make some calls. She has the rest of today off, you know. It’s Sunday.”

  “I know, and I plan to do something fun with her, but she deserves a damn night off now and again.”

  “I completely agree. I’ll make it happen. What nights do you want?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I reply. “Maybe one of the nights can be when Declan is playing.”

  “Wow,” Kate says with a whistle. “You can be very sweet when you want to be.”

  “Don’t let it get out,” I growl. “I don’t need batters thinking I won’t crush them at the plate.”

  “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

  ***

  It’s late afternoon, and I’ve let Gabby be most of the day. It wasn’t easy. I want to march in that house, scoop her up, and carry her off to bed.

  And at some point, in the not too distant future, I’m going to do just that. I can’t wait to watch her magnificent eyes go wide as I just reach down and lift her in my arms.

  The thought of it brings a smile to my face.

  Oh yeah, I’m gonna do that soon.

  But for today, I think she needed some space. I could hear her music blaring in the house from the barn as I worked out and put my shoulder through a hell I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  At one point, the music stopped and I could hear her laugh through the open windows in the back of the house. Her laugh makes my skin tingle.

  Jesus, I have it bad.

  The music is off now as well as I come out of my room, fresh from a shower and ready to have my eyes on her.

  I find her in her office, her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, filing papers.

  “I’m so glad you’re already having fun, buddy.”

  She sees me and offers me a sweet smile as I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb, cross my arms over my chest, and listen unabashedly.

  “Okay, go jump back in the pool. I’ll talk to you soon.” She ends the call and sets the phone on her desk. “He’s having fun.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you up to?”

  I push away from the door and move to the desk, lean my hands on it, and stare her in the eyes, which widen. She bites that lip, and I’m suddenly on high alert, all over again.

  “I want to take you somewhere,” I whisper.

  “Where?” Her voice is soft, and a little shaky.

  “Anywhere. Let’s just get in the car and drive, see where we end up.”

  Her face lights up, and I know in this moment, I’ll keep doing anything she wants if I can keep that smile on her face.

  “I haven’t taken a drive in…forever.”

  “Let’s do it then.”

  ***

  “Oh my God!” Gabby yells out with a laugh. “My hair is out of control!”

  We are cruising down the highway, the top of my Camaro down, sending her hair flying all over the place. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out some kind of hair tie, then proceeds to twist those long, soft strands into a knot at the top of her head, bands it together, then grins at me. “Better.”

  “Where will this road take us?” I ask.

  “All the way to Mississippi,” she says, then flicks on the satellite radio, turns the station to current hits, and begins to sing along with Rihanna, about being the only girl in the world.

  She’s the only girl in my world, that’s for damn sure.

  She can’t sing worth a damn, and her dance moves in the leather seat are questionable.

  But she sings and moves like she just doesn’t give a fuck, and that is the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a very long time.

  We drive for miles, both of us singing along with the radio, Gabby dancing her ass off.

  Laughing.

  I glance over at her, and she looks young. Carefree.

  Happy.

  I take her hand in mine, kiss her knuckles, and rest them on the center console as she sings into the thumb of her free hand.

  It’s Maroon 5 now.

  The sun is sinking to our left, bathing everything in a pink and orange glow. It’s getting late.

  “Oh! There’s an awesome restaurant up ahead,” Gabby says. “It’s been owned by the same family for four generations. Best food in the South.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Done.”

  I pull into the parking lot of a building that says Mama’s Place. It looks like it should have been condemned fifty years ago.

  “I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside.”

  “Is it safe in there?”

  Gabby laughs and jumps out of the car. “Don’t be a wimp, O’Shaughnessy.”

  I narrow my eyes as I join her and take her small hand in mine. “If the roof is collapsed at all, we’re leaving.”

  She simply shakes her head and laughs as we enter the dilapidated buil
ding, but once inside, my eyes widen in surprise. It’s not only sound, it’s amazing.

  And the smells coming from the kitchen have my stomach weeping with joy.

  “Best food ever,” Gabby says with that sweet smile.

  We’re shown to a table, and I can’t stop looking around long enough to glance at the menu. There are stuffed alligators on the walls, along with other animals, fishing poles, and signs that say, “Beware of Gators.”

  When the waitress arrives, Gabby orders for both of us. “Trust me,” she says after the waitress gathers our menus and leaves.

  “I do,” I reply honestly. She tips her head to the side.

  “I don’t think you have trust issues.” She sips her sweet tea thoughtfully.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I think that you just don’t take shit from people. Plus, you’re nice.”

  I cringe. “Nice is the kiss of death with women.”

  “Not this woman.” She shakes her head and pushes her straw through the ice. “Nice is a good thing.”

  “How about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Do you trust easily?”

  She frowns, her eyes still on her drink. “I trust my family. And Sam, of course, although he always tries to tell me that it wasn’t him who broke the window.”

  I smirk. “You know what I mean.”

  Gabby shrugs, not meeting my gaze.

  “Look at me.”

  “Why do you always make me look at you?” She frowns as though she’s irritated, and it only makes me smile wider.

  “Because I love it when you look at me,” I reply softly. “And I want to see your eyes when you talk.”

  “I don’t trust men easily. Well, at all really.”

  “You can trust me.”

  She starts to say something, then stops herself and takes a drink of her tea.

  “What were you going to say?”

  She frowns again and shakes her head, but I take her hand in mine. “Look at me. What were you going to say?”

  She meets my gaze, straightens her shoulders—good girl—and firms her lips. “I was going to say that in my experience, men haven’t been exactly trustworthy.”

  “Well, what if I told you that your assessment was wrong?”

 
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