by Joya Ryan
His expression went serious. “Emma, don’t be crazy. We play dominions, not backgammon.”
He grinned and it was just contagious enough to allow a deep breath to come through my mouth. This wasn’t a real thing, after all. In a couple weeks I’d be gone, Rhys would be back to his life and I to mine. We probably wouldn’t even have a reason to see each other again.
The thought was a bit unnerving.
So none of what Rhys and I pretended to be or not to be mattered in the end, right?
This wasn’t “meeting the parents” in a traditional sense. Just because I’d admitted to wanting the man didn’t mean I’d actually get him. Hell, it didn’t mean anything long-term. Still, I had this weird need to attempt to make his mom like me.
I made a mental note to get my brain and my emotions on the same page, because everything from my thoughts to my body was in a constant state of contradictory motion that I didn’t know how to sort out.
“Hey.” Rhys coaxed my gaze back to his because mine was once again on the house, staring it down with my stomach in knots as if I was about to go tapping on the gates of hell. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can go.”
“No.” This would not be another weak moment for me. I was already having way too many of those. “No, she’s your mom, you’re in town, you should see her. Right?”
That was the traditional thing for kids to do when they had parents who actually wanted them. At least I was pretty certain it was.
He nodded. “Do you not get along with your parents?”
I laughed a little. “I’ve never met either of them, so I couldn’t tell you.” He searched my face and I placed my hand over his and gently pulled away. “I’m fine. I don’t know what my problem is.”
“You’re out of your element,” he said simply, as if that was totally understandable and I wasn’t being completely ridiculous for having a mini panic attack just from looking at a house. He took my hand and we walked toward the front door. “Thank you for coming with me.”
As we walked through the door and he called out for his mom, a small smile spread across my face. He seemed to want me there. How bad could it be?
~
“And this one here,” Gwen said, sitting next to me on the couch and tapping the massive photo book that was spread over my lap. “This was when Rhys won his first football game in peewee.”
I smiled at the little boy version of Rhys. Even as a kid he was built tough and badass looking.
“I think the brisket is going to burn, Mom,” Rhys said, beer in hand, leaning against the entry to the kitchen.
“Oh, hush, it’s fine. You just don’t want me showing you off.” She leaned in and nudged my shoulder with hers. “He’s always been a little shy.”
I looked up at him and raised my brows. “Shy, huh?”
He exhaled deeply and shook his head, clearly not enjoying this, but being a good sport.
“Oh, here is the junior prom.”
My eyes landed on the photo. Rhys looked great in a black tux. He stood behind Sara and her frilly taffeta frock and fancy updo. Even at sixteen, they looked kind of perfect together.
“And here is his Marine photo,” Gwen said slowly as she turned the page and an eight-by-ten of Rhys at eighteen with a buzz cut and a serious expression came into view.
“You with short hair?” I looked up at him and he ran his hand through the longer tresses he had now. “I like it long.” I smiled. “But you look pretty hot here too.”
His mother chuckled a little and oh my God, I think, yep, the big bad Rhys just blushed!
“Seriously, can we eat? I already set the table.”
She patted my knee and rose. “All right, I’m done embarrassing you.” She walked past Rhys and into the kitchen. “Why don’t you show Emma around while I get this all finished up.”
“You sure you don’t want help?”
“I’ve got it honey, you go on.”
He looked at me and raised a brow. “Want the grand tour?”
I glanced around the living room, which looked every bit the part of wholesome home. Piano in the corner with a fireplace on the far wall, and small television above it. It smelled like home-cooked meals and stability.
An uneasy tremor rolled down my spine. It was shocking how something as simple as a home made me nervous. Maybe because this was an actual home. The one that shaped a man like Rhys.
“Sure. I’ll take a tour,” I said, a little nervously.
Following him up the stairs, I tried really hard not to stare at his perfect ass, but it was useless, the thing was meant to be stared at. Down the short hallway to the right he opened the wooden door.
“This was my room,” he said.
I stepped in and looked around. “Yikes.”
Taking in the light blue walls and perfectly made bed was one thing. But the two shelves near the windows littered with trophies and ribbons was another.
“This isn’t a room, this is a shrine,” I told him.
“Yeah . . .” He swayed on his feet and glanced away, that pink color returning to his face and neck. “I’ve tried a few times to get my mom to pack this up and turn this into a crafting room or something for her, but she won’t.”
“So this is what it looked like for a teenage Rhys?”
He nodded. I walked in further, checking things out. There were so many trophies, in sports ranging from swimming to track to football. I didn’t have anything like this.
It wasn’t the plaques and medals that were overwhelming, it was the experiences that came with them. Rhys must have been well-liked. Popular, probably. A good guy. I didn’t stay in school long enough to really have friends. Rhys went to dances, functions and had a mother who loved and praised him. I had a GED, a self-proclaimed brother and, only recently, a couple friends.
“First team all-state?” I asked, reading one of the certificates on the wall and trying to turn my mind off and get things back to a flirty casual tone. “If I open the closet, I’m going to see a letterman jacket next to your dress uniform, aren’t I?”
“Don’t forget the Boy Scouts uniform,” he teased. Though a part of me thought he was serious.
I slid the door open and just as I suspected.
“Gotta admit, I’ve got a thing for a guy in uniform.”
“That right?” He stepped toward me.
I nodded.
“So, are you done avoiding the conversation now?”
I glanced around the room, returning my attention to the trophies and reading the various inscriptions. “What conversation?”
“The one that usually comes after having a sexual encounter with someone. The kind of conversation you never want to have.”
“Maybe because after sexual encounters,” I drawled on the last two words, “you don’t always have to sit around and talk about shit. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not that kind of girl.”
With his beer still in hand, he adjusted his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest. The move was so manly and the vibe he gave off so casually alpha it made my body burn with the desire to rip his clothes off and ride him hard.
“I’ve figured that out by now,” he said. “But you also regularly take me by surprise and leave me with questions.”
So much of this situation was foreign to me that I had no idea how to respond. I was good with simple conversation. Good with talking about one-night stands, but that typically entailed a glass of wine and laughing with either Kate or Megan. Not discussing what you just did with the man you did it with.
Communication was something that I was pretty sure came with relationships. And while I knew Rhys and I had some kind of relationship, I had no idea what to call it. My option was to either shut him down, or let him drive this discussion so it would be easier to muddle my way through it.
“What are your questions, Rhys?”
He seemed pleased that I was willing to chat. Sort of. Maybe it was being out of my natural environment that made me so amiable. And skittish.<
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“I want to know how you feel. Make sure I haven’t given off an impression that — ” He paused to sigh and look away, and I knew what he was getting at.
“That what?” I faced him fully. Here was the dick move coming. What I’d been expecting. “That you liked me? That while you appreciate me servicing you, I need to remember that we’re not together, you don’t owe me anything and not to get attached?”
I smiled sweetly, hoping he saw that I didn’t care, that I was happy with it being a no-strings situation. Because I’d die of humiliation if he noticed the hint of moisture forming at the corners of my eyes.
“Save your breath, Rhys. I get it.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re just a way for me to blow off some steam. No pun intended.”
I winked. There. That should show him that I definitely wasn’t attached.
He frowned. “Actually, I was going to say that I wanted to make sure I haven’t given off an impression that I was in this for a casual fling. That’s not how I operate nor what I’m interested in.”
My face fell, then heated, then chilled. “Oh . . .”
He stepped closer. “But now that you mention it, is that how you see this? How you see me?”
“I told you that I . . .”
“That you want me, yeah, I was there when you barged into the shower.”
Again that stupid heat hit my cheeks.
“But now you just assume I’m some asshole who is discarding you?”
Yes! Because that’s what every other guy did. But I couldn’t say it. Apparently I didn’t need to because Rhys was doing that observing thing again.
“This is why I like to talk about things like this.”
“I get it. You’re chatty. And I don’t know what I think.” I huffed and went back to reading a different trophy, this one was for first team all-league. “Everything about you, about this situation, is difficult.” I didn’t know how else to say it, but there it was. “I can’t tell you what I want or what I think. I act and assume things based on history. And I learned quickly that men lie, cheat, steal and use women.”
“I’m not that way.”
I know.
I should have said it out loud but I couldn’t. While I trusted Rhys, I still had the good sense to realize that it was not technically smart. Trying to find the balance between honesty and ignorance was tough. I wanted to believe him in a lot of things. And truthfully, a big part of me already did. But too much about him scared me.
“So if you’re not that way, not the kind of guy interested in a fling, then what kind of guy are you?”
He ran a hand through his hair and glanced up. “I’m the kind that wants a woman to love. A home, a family, a place to relax and grow old.”
My tongue must have swollen, because I couldn’t swallow. Here I’d been afraid that Rhys was on a different path than I was, and now I was certain. He wanted the life that came with rooms like the one I was currently standing in. Teaching your son how to ride a bike or your daughter how to tie her shoes. He’d be great at that kind of life.
And I’d be terrible at it.
“We are so different. Fundamentally, down to the core, different.”
“But there’s something here,” he said in that raspy voice that did weird things to my heart rate. “And today you acknowledged that.”
I looked up at him and frowned. “Who are you?”
He grinned. “I’m some guy with trophies in my mom’s house trying to figure out the most frustratingly sexy woman I’ve ever encountered.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Sounds like you have your work cut out for you.”
“Oh, yeah.”
He was so close that I felt his heat pulse from his chest and hit my body, instantly warming me the way only he had ever been able to. He bent and gently brushed his lips over mine, a soft kiss that was packed with so much intensity it made my knees weak.
“And we’re not as different as you think we are,” he said against my lips.
I pulled back. “Are you kidding me? Look around.” He glanced around the room. “Your mom probably kept everything you’ve ever touched.”
“It’s excessive, but I’m her only son. Good thing I don’t let it go to my head.” He smiled.
“Yeah, real good thing. Because if you were to bring your dirty laundry over here for her to wash, I’d have to beat your ass.”
“I do my own laundry.”
“Good.”
He palmed my hip and tugged so that our lower halves were pressed together. The act was carnal, like I was his woman and this was a normal show of affection.
“You said you never talk to your parents,” he said in a low voice. “Did something happen to them?”
“No. Well, I don’t know, actually.”
“What? How is that possible?”
I took a step back. “My mother gave birth to me and left me in front of a clinic.”
Rhys looked at me for a long time, his face blank. I never went into that much detail, not even with Adam. I had always said I was given up for adoption. That tended to sound a little nicer. It left room for the imagination. Like maybe my mother was out there somewhere thinking about me. But no. This was the first time I had ever uttered the details out loud. Which was weird, because it just sort of slipped out.
“Jesus, Emma.” He ran a hand through his hair for the second time today, which I was noticing he did when he was caught off guard or nervous. A rarity for a guy like him. “Are you okay?”
“Ah, yeah?”
Was he nuts? I must have looked at him like that question was written on my face because he finished with, “I mean, do you want to talk about it or anything?”
What was up with him and all the talking? Apparently on the day I was developing in utero, the second X chromosome forgot to get the “chatty” piece of the DNA that most women had, enabling them to talk about shit all the time.
“I didn’t mean to say it like that.” I shook my head. “And I’m fine. No I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing to be done. I’m fine.” I shrugged.
I made peace with who I was and how I came to be a long time ago. It wasn’t until Rhys that I felt that peace be challenged. It made me start to question if peace wasn’t what I had felt about my life, emptiness was a more appropriate word.
“You play things off so well, like they don’t affect you,” he said.
“Because they don’t. I’ve had a lifetime to deal with this. I never had a mother who collected all my stuff, so who’s to say I’m missing anything?”
He looked me up and down for a moment. I was just ready to end the conversation. Thankfully, I didn’t have to.
“Rhys? Emma? Dinner is ready,” Gwen called from downstairs.
I moved past Rhys and got just outside the door when he grabbed my hand. I turned and looked at him, but he didn’t say anything. Looked like he really wanted to, but didn’t have a clue as to what.
“I’m fine, Rhys. I’m sorry I said anything.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” he said quickly. “I just . . . I wish I could have . . .”
“Stop.” I gave him the best smile I could, because all this was starting to hurt my stomach. “You can’t save me from my past. And if you’re going to start looking at me with pity again, I’m out of here.”
“Not pity, Emma.”
“Well, whatever it is, just quit. I’m fine and have handled plenty before I ever met you.”
“I know,” he said.
“So can we eat now?”
He nodded. “After you.”
Chapter Nine
“Dinner is great,” Rhys said from across the table. He sat to my right and his mother across from us.
“Yes, it’s very good, Gwen. Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re so welcome.” She beamed. “So, tell me how you two met.”
My bottom lip started to twitch and I couldn’t figure out how to answer that. Not because it was a particularly hard question, but her tone when
she said it insinuated that Rhys and I were a legit couple. Should I make clear that we weren’t? That this was probably the only time I’d ever see Gwen because in a couple weeks I’d be gone?
“We met at the gala for Striker Solutions a few months back,” Rhys offered because my silence swallowed up everyone in the room.
“Oh, that’s sweet. You must have seen him in a tux — doesn’t he clean up nice? I keep trying to get him to cut his hair,” Gwen grumbled and Rhys just chewed on his dinner. This obviously was a regular conversation for the two of them and Gwen switched subjects. “So what do you do, Emma?”
Much easier question! I was so excited to tackle this one you’d think it was the final round in Jeopardy. “I’m a freelance programmer.”
She nodded. “That’s computers, right?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
“Ah!” She snapped her fingers. “I knew I was with it. That twerp at the nerd group the other day kept saying I wasn’t.”
“It’s the Geek Squad, and I’m pretty sure he said that because you took in your Presario from ninety-four to them. I got you a nice laptop that you never use,” Rhys said in a soothing voice, obviously trying to help, but his mother wasn’t having it.
“There’s nothing wrong with my computer. Maybe, Emma, you could look at it?”
“Oh, ah, I can . . . try?” I glanced at Rhys, who just shook his head and grinned a little.
“Great! We’ll set a girls’ date!”
My smile turned more into an uncomfortable showing of my teeth. I would be seeing Gwen again after all. Not that I didn’t like her. Quite the opposite actually. I just felt uneasy and had no clue what to say.
“Smart girl like you probably has to help your friends all the time with computer stuff.”
“Um, sometimes.” Adam once asked which type of tablet I would recommend because he wanted to get one for Kate as a gift. Did that count as helping?
I focused on my plate. Partly because I wasn’t super great at responding to the notion that Gwen thought I was smart. She was nice and nurturing and so . . . mom-ish. She cared about Rhys, obviously, but also seemed to genuinely want him to be happy.
The baby pictures were one thing, but the conversation was turning toward me and I had no idea how to react or what to say. I didn’t want to be rude, but this was way out of my expertise. As I’d told Rhys, I had never been “taken home to mom” before. Not that Rhys and I were dating, but she was asking questions that I didn’t know how to answer.
