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.”
“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.”