Still chuckling, I stopped the car.
“Did you really name your car Ruby?” she asked as a valet jogged over to open her door.
“Yep.” I patted the gleaming black dash. “My girl here. Her name is Ruby.”
Her reply was lost to me as she stepped out of the car.
I handed the valet the keys and followed Parker into the house. “Mansion” was the better word. I was a big guy but standing in that center hall with its soaring ceilings and gilded oil paintings, I felt small. Maybe that was the point. You put your guests in their place the second they walked through the doors. Or maybe the owners just liked a lot of light and air, because, looking around, I kind of wished I could still afford a place like this.
Parker seemed right at home here by the way she moved with ease through the scattered crowd. “Jackson is probably somewhere on the lawn.”
The lawn in question was visible through the massive and ornately carved French doors at the far end of the house. The blue of the harbor winked at us in the distance.
“So, this is Fairchild’s summer house?” I asked as we stepped outside. Garden terraces flanked either side of a wide flagstone patio. A set of central stairs went down to a pool straight out of The Great Gatsby. Well, if Gatsby had women wearing string bikinis. Fairchild definitely liked the whole bikini-model cliché.
“One of them, anyway.” Parker didn’t look impressed. “I believe this one was his late parents—oh, shoot.”
Shoot?
My lips twitched. “You can say ‘shit,’ sweetheart. Your mom’s not gonna pop out of the bushes and point the finger at you.”
But Parker wasn’t listening. Panic flared in her eyes as she did a half step away from me before whirling back to grab my wrist. “Quick, this way—”
“Parker Brown?” a woman called out, as though surprised.
Parker went stiff as a pipe. “Fiddlesticks,” she said under her breath. She plastered on a fake smile—more like a grimace—and moved to greet an elegant older woman with sleek dark hair. They did that kiss-on-the-cheek thing some women liked.
“Vida,” Parker said a little less stiff but clearly still pained. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“And you, sweet girl.” Vida drew back and gave Parker an approving look. She was clearly aware of me; I just hadn’t been acknowledged. “It’s been too long.”
“My new job has been keeping me busy.”
“Ah, yes, of course.” The woman glanced at me, calculation in her dark eyes. “You’re working for Franklin.”
“Well, in a way, yes,” Parker replied. “I didn’t realize you knew him.”
Vida laughed, her red lips parting to reveal some truly white teeth. “Doesn’t everybody?”
Parker’s cheeks turned pale, and her slim shoulders hunched. “Seems that way.” She gave Vida another plastic smile. “Well, I’ll just go say hello to the host …”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Only then did Vida look my way. Her gaze slid over me with slow appreciation.
I was used to that look. I got it before and after every match. Women wanted to fuck me for the thrill of it, for bragging rights. I made the mistake of accepting a few of those advances, only to have some of their friends contact me afterward, so very certain I’d do them too. After all, I was nothing more than a sexed-up, muscle head.
I should be grateful; I learned what it was to feel cheap and used. That familiar crawling sensation writhed in my gut. Then it occurred to me that Parker hadn’t introduced me. I was here to be her arm candy, and she was leaning away from me as though she wanted to be anywhere but here.
That sure as shit didn’t sit right.
Parker eyed me, and I saw another flare of reluctance. Shame. Regret.
I felt sick.
“Yes, of course,” she said, her voice dull through the buzzing in my ears. “This is Rhys.”
That was it. No boyfriend or date. Just Rhys.
My lips went numb as I stood there. A big, dumb ox.
Vida smiled at me, sly as fuck. “And does Rhys have a last name?”
She didn’t give a shit about my name. She was digging. We all knew it.
I smiled wide and stuck out my hand. “Rent boy.” My smile grew teeth. “It’s more of a title.”
Parker gasped, and Vida tittered.
“How marvelous, Parker.” She sounded truly impressed.
Parker, on the other hand, was bright pink. Good. I rolled my tight shoulders. “If you’ll excuse us, I need a beer.”
I took hold of Parker’s elbow and guided her away as gently as I could. I was pissed, which meant I had to be extra careful with my strength. Yeah, Parker had acted like I was garbage at her side, but I wasn’t about to manhandle her.
“Rhys,” she hissed, stomping along at my side. “What the heck was that?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I shot back. Several bars were set up on the various terraces. I went to the closest. “Beer. Just give me the bottle.”
Parker tried her best to glare a hole through my face, as I grabbed the bottle of offered beer and took a long pull.
“You didn’t want that woman to know who I was,” I said. “Why?”
Biting her lower lip, she looked away. “She’s a friend of my parents.”
The words were a kick in the balls. “Ah.”
Parker glanced back with eyes that were wide and pensive. “That’s it?”
“What’s there to say?” I shrugged, gripping the beer tight.
“Well, obviously, there is something to say because you’re clearly in a mood.”
God, for a smart woman, she was fucking blind sometimes. “Whatever, princess. It’s nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Very mature.”
“About as mature as hiring a fake boyfriend because you can’t tell your asshat boss to fuck off with his misogynistic bullshit.”
She blinked, pausing for a beat before starting up again. “I’m really angry with you, and truly want to tell you where you can stuff that comment, but I find myself compelled to give you credit for your use of ‘misogynistic.’”
God, this girl. I liked her, damn it. I couldn’t let myself. A good fighter protected his weak points.
“Five whole syllables in that word too,” I said dryly.
With a huff, her eyes narrowed and the fire returned. “I was more impressed by the usage than the length.”
Too easy. I tipped my beer bottle toward her in salute. “Sweetheart, with me, you’ll get both.”
“What …?” A blush shot across her cheeks. “Oh, you …you …”
I leaned in. “Come on, Tink. Say it … asshole, dickhead… You know you want to really tell me off. Let me have it.”
I could almost see the words floating around in her head, dancing on the tip of that sweet tongue. I wanted to suck it off, lick into her mouth and taste her anger. Jesus, I was hard. Fucking turned on, panting. Her mouth would be pillow soft, her rage hard and swift.
When I noticed she was panting too, my arms jerked. I clenched my fist to keep from reaching for her. But it hurt to hold back.
A sound escaped her. Not a whimper but something close. Needy. Confused.
I’ll make it better, honey.
I took a step closer. She smelled so good. Looked so fine.
But we were interrupted again.
“Parker?” A man this time.
Seriously, fuck this party.
If Parker had been panicked before, she appeared downright appalled now. Her mouth fell open in horror, as we turned in unison toward the man standing a few feet away. Salt-and-pepper hair, steel-rimmed glasses, tailored gray slacks and an ivory silk shirt. He looked like a New Yorker slumming it for the weekend.
Parker had his eyes. I didn’t know why I noticed. But I did. And I knew exactly who he was. They shared the same smile too.
Parker’s voice came out in a strangled squeak. “Dad.”
Here we go …
Pa
rker’s dad smiled. “Peanut.”
“Peanut?” I whispered to Parker, expecting a glare or maybe an elbow to the gut. She remained stone still.
Her dad leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
Parker swallowed audibly. “I was thinking the same thing.”
He was a few inches taller than she was, but wiry where Parker was delicate.
Unlike Vida, Parker’s dad immediately zeroed in on me and thrust out a hand to shake. “Charles Brown. No relation to the little bald guy, I’m afraid.”
Charles Brown? Realization hit, and I grinned as I shook his hand. “I take it you don’t go by Charlie?”
He laughed shortly. “Not if I can help it. Childhood was enough hell for me.”
Despite his easy-going manner, power flowed off Charles Brown. Some guys thought they had to be biggest or the tallest guy in the room to be the strongest. That was bullshit. Physical strength rarely mattered as much as mental toughness and confidence.
Brown was the rare sort who knew he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. He was comfortable in his own skin. I admired the hell out of that. And the way he put a protective, affectionate arm around his daughter. Not so much a claiming but letting her know she was loved.
“Rhys Morgan,” I filled in when Parker stayed quiet. The lights were on in Parker House but she’d clearly left the building. “I’m a friend of Parker’s.”
I had no idea what she wanted me to say in this situation. Did we lie to her family?
Parker blinked and then pushed a smile. “Rhys is an ex-boxer. Fairchild is a fan.”
Brown nodded, his gaze moving between me and his daughter. “I’m a fan too.”
Now that was a surprise.
“That fight with Davis, when you took him out with a KO in the second round? Legendary.”
It felt oddly good to know Parker’s dad knew of my career and approved.
“People either hate or love that fight.” Personally, I loved it. Davis had a big mouth and a glass jaw.
“I suppose it depends on which way you bet.” The gleam in Brown’s eyes told me he hadn’t lost money.
“That’s usually the case.”
When we both chuckled, Parker finally found her voice.
“I had no idea you knew about Rhys, Dad.”
“Why would you? I don’t think we’ve ever had a discussion that revolved around sports.” The tone of his voice and the look in his eyes made it clear he knew Parker wasn’t with me because she was a fan. And it was just as clear he wanted to know why we were friends—and how close.
Parker averted her gaze but then looked up at me. “Maybe we should let Fairchild know we’re here. He’s been wanting to show Rhys around,” she explained to her father.
I almost rolled my eyes. That’s how we were playing it? I was here as Fairchild’s guy crush?
She might have gotten away with that, but a pretty older woman with honey-blond hair and a younger woman who shared a startling resemblance to Parker joined us. It didn’t take much to guess they were Parker’s mother and sister. I swore I heard Parker groan under her breath.
“Mom. Easton.” She might as well have been eating nails.
Easton watched me with avid eyes. This one was obviously happy to find Parker with a man in tow. “Well, hello, Parker,” she said, not taking her eyes from me.
Like her dad, Parker’s mom immediately focused on me. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Marion Brown.”
“Rhys Morgan.”
She shook my hand with a firm grip and a steady gaze.
I didn’t say anymore because, frankly, this one was on Parker. She shot me a look that read something close to “Save me from family hell.” I empathized.
“Morgan!” Fairchild swooped, all eager beaver.
A laugh escaped me. I couldn’t help it. It was a pile-on at this point.
As usual, Fairchild completely ignored Parker. He clasped me on the shoulder as though I were his kid while turning toward the Browns. “Did I mishear or are you two just meeting Parker’s boyfriend?”
The word landed like a bomb, leaving behind a stunned silence. Parker looked so miserable, I couldn’t stop myself from slipping my hand into hers, giving it a gentle, commiserating squeeze. The action wasn’t missed by Marion Brown.
“Boyfriend,” Marion repeated. It was difficult to tell if she was upset or surprised.
No, that wasn’t right. Parker’s entire family appeared shell-shocked. The memory of Parker crying over Theo slid through me, and I knew with cold certainty she hadn’t brought a man around them since.
Her hand grew clammy, but she gripped me a bit tighter. “Ah, yes … that is …” She glanced at an expectant Fairchild. “We just started dating.”
Fairchild nodded with impatience, his hand returning to my shoulder. I really fucking hated when he touched me. My muscles clenched but I held still. Not that he’d noticed. “Rhys, why don’t we let Parker catch her parents up? There are some men I want you to meet. They’re really interested in investing in the sport.”
At this point, I figured it would be a blessing to get out of Parker’s hair. She looked one step away from screaming. Fairchild waved to a group of men in the crowd. He then grabbed my arm and tugged like I was a dog on a leash.
Money. I needed sponsors to save the gym.
Parker. I needed to pander to this asshole or she’d be in trouble.
Gritting my teeth, I let him lead me away. This truly was the party from hell.
Fourteen
Parker
* * *
There were very few moments in my life when I wasn’t happy to see my parents. This was one of those rare moments. I watched Fairchild lead Rhys across the lawn toward a tall, blond man, wishing he’d stayed. The comforting feel of his hand clasping mine had been the only thing holding me together when Fairchild announced to my family that Rhys and I were dating.
That I wanted to be comforted by Rhys was a contradiction because he was the reason I dreaded the next few moments. I would have to lie to my parents and my sister.
How had this fake dating business spiraled so completely out of control?
And where was that damn door to the sand-snake dimension so I could throw myself through?
Strike that.
I was absolutely shoving Franklin Fairchild through that door if it ever did make a miraculous appearance.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” I wheezed out, my chest tight with anxiety. “Or that you knew Franklin Fairchild.”
Dad’s brows drew together. “Everyone knows Fairchild. Your mother is on several charity boards with Fairchild’s wife, Evelyn.”
I hadn’t known that.
Crap.
“Oh.”
“We had breakfast not that long ago and you never mentioned a boyfriend,” Easton mused, her tone unhappy. “Especially not one who looks like that.”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “Like one of the strippers we’ll hopefully hire in Hawaii.”
“Strippers?” my parents said in unison, my dad’s eyebrows raised, my mother’s mouth open in horror.
Ignoring them both, I scowled at my sister. “Don’t objectify him.”
Easton grinned unrepentantly. “I wasn’t, my darling sister. I was merely making the observation that your boyfriend is rather fun to look at, and not at all what we’d expect. So, spill.”
Hands clammy, heart racing, I met my family’s inquisitive eyes one by one, and hated myself as I blurted out the lie Rhys made up. “We bumped into each other. Literally. I’d met Zoe for drinks. She had to leave for work, but I stayed to finish my drink. When I was leaving, Rhys was coming through the door and he nearly knocked me over. He asked if he could buy me a drink to apologize and …” I trailed off with a miserable shrug.
“Why do you look like you’re in pain?” Easton seemed caught between amusement and concern.
“And why is thi
s the first time we’re hearing about this boy?” Mom huffed.
A nervous snort escaped me at my mother referring to Rhys as a boy. “Where’s Oliver?” I avoided the question, asking after my sister’s fiancé.
“Business trip. I decided to tag along with Mom and Dad out of boredom—and wasn’t that the best decision I’ve made in ages.”
My cheeks heated, and I glared at her. She smiled sweetly. “Mom asked a question.”
“I did ask a question,” Mom said, stepping close to touch my arm. “Why are you acting so strangely about your young man?”
“Should we be worried?” Dad already looked worried.
“Oh, ’rentals, leave her alone.” Easton shrugged, almost spilling champagne out of her glass with the movement. “Isn’t it obvious she’s being strange because it’s been a while, a long while, since she’s had a boyfriend? It still doesn’t answer Mom’s question,” she reminded me.
“I can’t remember you ever being as helpful as you’re being right in this moment.” I gave her a toothless smile. “In fact, you’re being so helpful, I might have to repay you for your helpfulness in the near future.”
This time her grin was wicked. “Nonsense. What’s family for?”
A growl burrowed up my throat.
“Parker, darling, that noise is very unladylike.” Mom shook her head. “Now, you were saying …”
Was the ground shaking? Or was that just my trembling knees? If my parents found out I was using my trust fund to pay a man to pretend to date me, they’d be mortified. Mortified and so, so disappointed. The air started to feel a little thin. “Is it warm in here?”
Easton’s lips trembled. “Outside, on the lawn?”
Oh shit.
I blinked in surprise, realizing I’d cursed in my head.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cursed in my head.
I waited for my mother’s voice to infiltrate, to make me feel guilty for using bad language, but it was replaced with the image of her finding out I’d hired an escort.
Outmatched: A Novel Page 16
