Outmatched: A Novel

by Kristen Callihan

  “I’ll help you, Rhys.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. It took everything in me to hold onto the fragile thread of calm I’d gained back. “All right.”

  He nodded, looking pleased. “Any tips you need for handling Parker?”

  A rusty laugh broke free. “You think I need help with women? That’s cute.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I meant more along the lines of hanging out with her geeky friends and coworkers.”

  An evil grin spread as I remembered peppering those gossipy little asshats with paint bullets. That smug weasel Pete had actually squealed. So satisfying. “I got that covered.”

  “What did you do?” Dean asked with growing amusement.

  “Nothing.” Showed them just what they faced if they messed with my girl.

  She isn’t your girl, idiot.

  My smile fell, and I rolled my shoulders. “I act like myself and they pretty much run in fear. It works.”

  “Yeah, I bet it does,” he said dryly. “But what about when you eventually meet people she actually likes?”

  Hell.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  He eyeballed me for a long moment, then shook his head. “We’ll work on your manners later.”

  “Asshole.”

  His grin was quick and a bit forced. Couldn’t blame him for that. Mine was too. But then he damn near killed me when he reached in and gave me a quick half hug, slapping me on the shoulder as he let me go.

  “You stink,” he said, covering the awkward moment. “Go shower.”

  He left me before I could get another word in. I was grateful as hell.

  The gym fell silent, stinking of sweat and mold. I closed my eyes tight and then shook it off, striding out of the room. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I stared down at my text messages, my hand shaking. I couldn’t stop it.

  I couldn’t stop myself from texting either.

  RhysThis: Hey, Tink. What you up to?

  Seconds later, my knees felt weak with relief when little dots formed at the bottom of the screen as she typed in her answer.

  AngryTink: Who is this?

  A smile pulled at my lips, my chest already feeling lighter.

  RhysThis: Rhys. The great and powerful.

  AngryTink: I thought that was The Wizard of Oz.

  Chuckling, I took the stairs to my loft.

  RhysThis: Close enough. You’re no longer in Kansas, little girl.

  AngryTink: I’m going to ignore the little-girl part. Because it reeks of misogyny.

  My steps grew lighter, faster, the smile spreading over me like a wave. I could breathe again.

  RhysThis: I thought you were going to ignore it?

  AngryTink: Anyway … Why are you texting?

  Because I need you. I need your sass. I need you …

  I tried to shake the thought away. It was a weakness I couldn’t afford. But the thought remained. I needed her.

  Shit.

  AngryTink: Rhys? You there? Or did you run off the road on that mildly enjoyable bike of yours? Please don’t tell me you’re texting and driving! That’s illegal, you know.

  Huffing out a laugh, I answered.

  RhysThis: You enjoy my bike, huh?

  A pause, and then she replied.

  AngryTink: A little. Just a little. And you didn’t answer.

  RhysThis: Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m at home.

  AngryTink: Sweetheart?

  She sent an eye-roll emoji and then: What’s up? Is there something you need?

  You. Here. Please.

  Shit, I had to get out of this. I didn’t know what to say.

  AngryTink: Actually, it’s good you texted. I need you.

  For a hot second, the bottom dropped out of my stomach. She needs me. My heart rate kicked up like I’d just gone ten brutal rounds with a top opponent. She needs me. I was about to smile, about to text her back with something like: Thank Christ. What took you so long?

  Another text dinged.

  AngryTink: Argh. That sounded wrong! Sorry. Distracted. I need you for another “date.”

  I was a damn fool. An idiot. Of course that’s what she needed. What the fuck was wrong with me? I was getting soft and stupid on a girl that would never fit in my world. And I’d never fit in hers.

  My thumb hit the screen hard as I tapped out my reply.

  RhysThis: What is it this time? Croquet with the queen? Watching yuppies row their little crew boats?

  It took her a bit to answer. Time enough that I felt remorse for taking a cheap jab.

  AngryTink: Not that I don’t love a good crew race, but no. It’s a garden party on Saturday. Yuppies will be in attendance. Can you handle that? Or do the yuppies scare you too much?

  I had to give it to Parker; she was a fierce competitor. She’d block any hit I sent her way and followed through with an excellent counterstrike.

  Like that, I was smiling again.

  No. No. No.

  No more smiling at texts. This is business, you moron. Play your part.

  RhysThis: Babe, for the money you’re paying me, I can handle anything you throw my way. ;-)

  She didn’t answer with her usual sass but simply sent me the time I was supposed to pick her up. Completely professional. Exactly what I wanted.

  Then why did it feel like yet another defeat?

  I was still pissed off at myself when Dean popped in an hour later. “You want to go have a drink?”

  Anything beat sitting around trying not to think. I needed to be Rhys again. Have some damn fun for one damn night.

  Twelve

  Parker

  * * *

  The low-level chatter escalated in the Irish pub as the bar owner, who’d introduced himself as Bill, announced a ten-minute beer break. I shared a bemused look with my friends. We’d never been to a quiz where there was a beer break for the “quizmaster.”

  We’d also never been to a quiz night in a bar in Chelsea, but my oldest friend, Ren, was our quiz finder and he took us wherever the questions were. Usually I didn’t care where we ended up. Moreover, the prize didn’t matter to us. We just loved hanging out, happy to be with fellow nerds, and our bimonthly quiz nights gave us that.

  Tonight, the winning team got a crate of beer and a gift card to Yankee Lobster. It wasn’t a bad prize. But I couldn’t care less. What I did care about was that we were in Chelsea. Not only were we in Chelsea, we were in a bar right around the corner from Lights Out. I hadn’t told the guys about Rhys because I couldn’t tell them the truth and I couldn’t lie to them.

  “You’re quiet tonight.” Ren nudged me with his elbow before sitting back against the wall. He took a swig from his beer, his eyes on me the whole time.

  I tried not to squirm under his gaze. Ren and I met at college orientation and had been friends ever since. Zoe thought I was nuts for not exploring something more with Ren. He had been, and still was, one of those guys who made nerdy sexy. He was tall, lean, with a surprising amount of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, and behind his black-framed glasses was the face of a model.

  No joke.

  Irish American—dark hair, olive skin, angular features, and bright blue eyes— the man was beautiful. He was also devoid of cliché—a great mix of athleticism and intellectualism, a geek and a jock, friends with extroverts and introverts alike. Ren was a hockey player in high school. He was captain of the math and debate teams. Huge nerd. But he was also kind of an alpha, pain in the ass, overprotective big-brother type.

  “I’m tired,” I lied.

  Ren narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “I’ve known you for twelve years, so I know when you’re lying.”

  “Jesus, leave off, man,” Elijah ordered with an appeasing smile. “So what if she’s lying?” He winked at me. “Parker’s allowed her secrets.”

  “Since when do I have secrets?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I had to fight not to flinch. Oops. I absolutely had a secret.


  “We all have secrets.” He shrugged and turned to Navin. “Isn’t that right?”

  Elijah was Ren’s roommate at MIT but he and I didn’t become good friends until late sophomore year. Navin was Elijah’s lab partner in junior year and soon became a permanent fixture in our group. He also had a permanent crush on Zoe who had, unfortunately, never returned his feelings.

  Navin scowled at Elijah. “You’re a dick.”

  Glad to have the spotlight off me, I crossed my arms on the table and leaned toward Navin. “Ooh, do tell?”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Navin muttered.

  “You’re among friends,” Elijah teased, his dark eyes dancing with laughter. “And if it were me, I’d be shouting it from the rooftops.”

  Ooh, now I was intrigued. “Shouting what?”

  “Yeah, shouting what?” Ren smirked at Navin.

  I knew that smirk. “You know what it is,” I accused and sat back with a huff. “Oh, come on, I can’t be the only one who doesn’t know.”

  Navin shot Ren a filthy look. “You’re a dick too.”

  Something occurred to me. “Oh, your parents aren’t trying to arrange another marriage, are they?” Navin’s parents lived in Mumbai, both successful lawyers. Their marriage was also arranged, and from what I had gathered from my friend over the years, they’d lucked out and were happy together. Because of that, whenever Navin was single, they tried to convince him to go through with an arranged marriage.

  Elijah laughed and shook his head.

  “Oh, just tell me, then.”

  With a beleaguered sigh, Navin shrugged. “I met someone.”

  Why was that a secret? “Okay...?”

  Ren snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

  Navin curled his lip. “I didn’t want to tell Parker this. It’s not for her delicate ears.”

  Ren grinned. “She’s not a virgin, Navin, I think she can handle the fact that you’re screwing around with an older woman. Met someone”—he snorted again—“yeah, one who likes to handcuff you to the bed. Among other kinky, dirty things.”

  I choked on a sip of my beer and felt Ren pat my back as I coughed. The knowledge that my friend was into kink was unwelcome.

  “Okay,” I wheezed, waving a hand between me and Navin. “I didn’t need to know that. I was happy not knowing that.”

  “See?” Navin sat back in his chair, embarrassed. “And thank you very much for airing my private business in public.”

  “Parker isn’t public.” Elijah shared an evil grin with Ren.

  “You two are mean.” I kicked Elijah under the table and slapped Ren across the head at the same time. Their curses lit up our table and put a giant smile on Navin’s face.

  Before I could say another word, an unexpected shiver tickled down my spine and a sudden awareness drew my eyes toward the bar entrance. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze collided with Rhys Morgan’s.

  What the hell?

  Of course he would come to the bar on the one night I just happened to be there.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  Dean was there too.

  As Rhys strode toward me, his expression unreadable, my heart raced and my palms grew clammy. It had been five days since the paintball exercise. Five days of a complete lack of focus on my part. Not only because I had come to the uncomfortable realization that I had a humongous crush on the guy I was paying to date me (rookie mistake!), but because Fairchild had invited us to a garden party tomorrow. Jackson, with obvious discomfort, had made it clear that my invitation to this party was contingent upon Rhys escorting me.

  Rhys had, of course, agreed to come but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I’d vowed to keep myself physically and emotionally distant from this man and how impossible it would be to maintain that vow when we had to continue to pretend to be in a relationship in front of all my colleagues.

  As Rhys stopped at our table, I let out a shaky exhalation I knew he didn’t miss. His eyes narrowed on my mouth before he gave me what might have been a tender smile, if I thought for a second he had tender feelings toward me.

  Which I knew he didn’t.

  He was a very good actor.

  Something he’d proven when he kissed the hell out of me at paintball, only to be completely unaffected by it.

  My knees were still like jelly when I’d gotten home that night.

  The big jerk.

  The text he’d sent me this evening was also fresh in my mind. Apparently, he felt the need to remind me he was getting paid to escort me. And kiss me. While I was emotionally and physically discombobulated by his superior kissing talent, he was clearly concerned I might be getting the wrong idea about our “relationship.”

  Like I needed the reminder I was as far from his type as a woman could be.

  Some of my irritation must’ve registered on my face because he grinned, and it was filled with mischief. “Hey, sweetheart.” He bent down and kissed me full on the lips, quick, hard, and pulled back before I could react. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be in my part of town tonight.”

  “Uh … I didn’t know.”

  “And who are you?” Ren asked belligerently, reminding me we were not alone.

  And crap.

  I did not want to lie to my friends.

  “Rhys Morgan.” His expression turned blank as he checked out Ren. “I’m dating Parker. You are?”

  Ren’s eyebrows drew together, and he cut me a hurt look. Double crap. “Your boyfriend?”

  “Well …” My mouth opened and shut like a guppy. “You see … I was going …”

  “We haven’t been dating long. On that note”—Rhys clamped a hand on his brother’s shoulder—“Tink, this is my baby brother, Dean. Dean, this is Parker.”

  Dean gave me a knowing smirk. The fact that it was sexy was more of an observation on my part, rather than a reaction. Huh. Strange, because Dean Morgan was definitely more my type. Although he and Rhys shared similarities in their features, Dean was blond and clean-cut while Rhys was all dark, rugged masculinity. Dean was in shape, but he was an academic, while Rhys was the ultimate athlete. Dean was all-American handsome; Rhys was …

  Rhys was … just looking at him caused a delicious ache between my legs, even in the midst of my anxiety over lying to my friends.

  How was this possible? How could this mortifying nightmare be happening to me?

  Rhys Morgan was so not my type.

  Argh!

  And I was definitely not his.

  Therein lies the problem.

  “Nice to meet you, Parker. Heard a lot about you.” Dean shook my hand, and I couldn’t help but glare at him as I noted the laughter in his eyes. Obviously, he shared his brother’s twisted sense of humor.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I replied politely. I avoided direct eye contact with my friends as I gestured to them. “Elijah, Navin, Ren, this is my … boyfriend, Rhys, and his brother, Dean. Rhys owns a boxing gym right around the corner. Rhys, these are my college friends. I think I told you about our quiz nights.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  Before anyone could say another word, Bill the bar owner returned to the stage to continue the quiz.

  Rhys bent toward me, his lips near my right ear as Bill’s voice quieted the bar. My fake boyfriend’s breath caressed my skin, and I hunched up a shoulder to chase away the answering shiver. “We’ll just grab a beer and be right over. You want anything?”

  Trying to make my smile as natural as possible, all the while cursing my bad luck, I shook my head. “We’re good.”

  “An encomium is a speech or piece of writing that does what?” Bill asked into the mic as Rhys and Dean walked away from the table. Bill looked up from the card in his hand toward the bar. “Jesus fuck, Della, where the fuck did you get these fucking questions?”

  The tables of quizzers chortled. It wasn’t the first time Bill had stopped in the middle of the quiz to ask Della, whom we’d soon learned was his wife, where
she’d found what were truly random, difficult questions.

  “It’s like an admiration thing, right?” Elijah said, his voice low as he sat forward. “To praise a person.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Navin nodded. “Write it down.”

  Ren looked at them like they were crazy. “Are we seriously not going to talk about the fact that Parker is dating an ex-heavyweight boxing champion and didn’t tell us?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You know who he is?”

  My friend glowered. “Yeah, I know who he is. As soon as you said boxing gym, I remembered why he’s so familiar. So, what’s going on? Is this why you’ve been quiet?”

  My belly roiled. Oh my goodness, I did not want to lie to Ren. But if I told him I had hired Rhys to be my fake boyfriend, he would probably take a swing at Rhys, assuming I was being taken advantage of, and not caring that the Widowmaker could crush him.

  “As you can imagine,” I started, trying not to lower my eyes because he’d know I was lying if I did, “I’ve been somewhat surprised by this turn of events, and I’ve been attempting to figure things out and … I honestly didn’t even know we were dating until he just said it.” I fibbed the last part.

  “Do you want to date him?”

  Oh boy, wasn’t that the question of the century.

  “Yes,” I said shyly.

  Ren studied me a second and then nodded. “Okay, then. Just would’ve been cool if you’d told us about him.”

  Elijah tapped the table in front of us. “Uh, this is all very interesting but we’re missing the questions.”

  “Bill asked”—Dean suddenly appeared, sitting down beside me with a beer in hand, forcing me to budge up next to Ren—“‘What is nanoscience?’ Easy. It’s the study of molecules and structures whose size ranges from one to a hundred nanometers.”

  The guys all looked at him; Rhys drew my attention as he pulled a chair next to the table. “My brother’s wicked smart,” he said, straddling the chair and sipping his beer.

  “We knew the answer,” Navin said, his geek pride rearing its competitive head.