Arryn looked at the clock, and the numbers blurred. She squinted and focused. It was just a little after four in the morning. Then she remembered falling asleep in Rhys' arms while laying in the truck bed under the stars, listening as he pointed out constellations and made up stories that were clearly bastardized Disney plots. This one's called The Sulky Redhead. Supposedly, she was in love with this handsome prince and, after saving his life, went to a witch in the woods and gave up her voice for a pair of apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur.
She turned over and tried to make herself comfortable. Rhys slept soundly next to her without a care in the world. While he softly snored, she struggled to fall asleep amidst her guilt. It was already their last day together. Anxiety knotted in her chest, and the thought of leaving made her heart hurt.
She deserved it. The agony, guilt, regret—everything. She traced the scar on his chest, careful not to disturb him. Here he had a physical reminder of how a lie could hurt. For the first time since he'd been shot, he'd put his faith in another person. Another liar. If he ever found out what she did, he'd hate her.
He shifted, and his arm slid around her waist, clutching her against him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In one weekend, she felt at home in his arms, his house, and in his life.
Now, what was she going to do? She'd met a great guy and screwed it up from the beginning. Leslie wouldn't be surprised. Mom expected her to fail, and once again, Arryn didn't disappoint.
She should tell Rhys the truth and beg forgiveness. If he didn't, she'd live with it. She'd have no choice. She didn't want to think anymore. Her brain was tired. Guilt did that. An endless swirling black hole of despair sucked the life out of her. With that final horrible thought, sleep came.
At ten o'clock, she rolled to her back and watched the overhead fan spin fleeting shadows across the ceiling. An accurate comparison of her emotions. Spinning out of control, and soon to disappear from his life, like a flicker of sunlight. God, she must be losing her mind to compare herself to fans. Where was Elia when she needed her?
Rhys was missing from bed, so she assumed he was drinking morning coffee on the deck, and enjoying nature. She put her feet on the floor, steeled her shoulders, and concentrated on making the most of the few hours they had left.
After dressing in jeans and a tee-shirt, she headed down the hall. As she expected, he sat on the back porch, mug in hand, Guinevere by his feet. For a moment, she imagined being a part of that snapshot every day, but Elia thumped her upside the head and pulled Arryn from the daydream. Her alter ego made her promise to concentrate on fun for the rest of her stay and stop wishing for something that would never happen.
She opened the door, and he turned to look at her. "Hey, Sleepyhead."
"I'm sorry."
"The fish will wait. You still want to go, right?"
"Absolutely."
"Good. I've got some biscuits, frozen waffles, or cereal. Any of that sound good?"
"What kind of cereal?"
He grimaced. "Fruity Pebbles or Chex?"
"I love Fruity Pebbles!"
"Whew. That's a relief. I figured everyone was doing the whole vegan, gluten-free thing now."
"Are you kidding? I'm the one who doesn't eat right or exercise. Remember?"
"Oh yeah," he grinned and cast his eyes upward as if replaying her crazy tirade in his head. "The parking lot speech. By the way, you don't need yoga. You're plenty flexible."
He chuckled, and she was sure he didn't mean her dancing ability. Her face heated. "Don't bother getting up. I can help myself."
"I need more coffee anyway." He followed her in, refilled his cup, and passed her a bowl and a box.
She got milk from the fridge, then looked at the audience of dead animals. "You must love to hunt." She shook the cereal into the dish, poured the milk, and listened to the snap, crackle, pop.
He followed her gaze to the mounts on the wall, then pointed at each one. "Not often, but I go with my father from time to time. We bagged the Pronghorn Antelope and javelina on a hunting trip out toward your neck of the woods. The pronghorn and deer with a gun, javelina, a bow."
Arryn said nothing.
"Let me guess. You're an animal activist and don't believe in hunting."
"Why do you say that?"
He grinned. The one that made her tingle all over. "I keep trying to find something wrong with you."
She leaned into the counter to keep from collapsing. He gave her serious quivers. The kind that made her want to rip his clothes off. "No. I just don't care for dead animals as decorations, and if you knew me better, you'd discover lots of character flaws. Please tell me ya'll eat the meat from your kills, and they didn't just die for sport."
"Nope. Have it butchered, then donate it to one of the local homeless shelters."
"Of course you do."
He pulled his brows together. "Why'd you say it like that?"
"Just that you're so damn perfect, I should have known you'd never kill just for sport. Have you always had such a high moral compass?"
That got a chuckle from him. "Hey, I can be a bad boy when I need to be." He took a sip of coffee, then glanced at his watch. "I'll get the tackle box and poles. Be right back."
For the next two hours, they fished and threw back everything they caught. Soaking up the sunshine and the sight of Rhys, she'd never experienced the mix of emotions buzzing in her head. Happy to be with him. Sad to be leaving.
Later that day, she made sandwiches, watched a movie, and had sex on the sofa. She usually kept her eyes open during sex, but pinched them tight, because today, beautiful creatures glared down at her as if condemning her for taking advantage of the guy who'd killed them. At one point, she pictured her head next to Bambi's daddy. Not a good thing when you're in the throes of passion. But crazy notions were easier than looking at Rhys because of what she was about to do. Tomorrow, he'd find plenty of things wrong with her.
By the time the red numbers on the clock pushed past four in the morning, Arryn sighed. Today was the day she left, never to be seen again. Dramatic, but that was the penalty of her screw up.
She should get up and start getting ready to go, but when she looked over at Rhys where he laid beside her, snug and warm, she couldn't. Not just yet. She rolled to her side and rubbed her hand down his arm.
"What's the matter?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"Nothing," Arryn assured him.
"Then go back to sleep," he murmured, running a hand along her body, from waist to thigh.
"Not yet." She wanted him one more time before she left. Twinges of guilt tugged at her over how she was going to leave him after this.
She ran her fingers down his chest down to his stomach. He didn't stop her, so she moved her fingers further, tracing the lines and contours.
When she looked up, he was alert now. His breath had quickened, tickling the hair at her forehead.
"Lay down," she said, surprised at the rough note in her voice.
He obliged, and she climbed over him, straddling his lips with her legs, so when she leaned over him, her hair brushed his chest. She kissed him, hard, as if her mouth realized this could stop at any moment and had to get as much of it as possible.
His hands moved around her back, touching her chemise and bare skin. He trailed his hands to her backside and then over the sides of her thighs, letting lace gather in his fingers as it slid over her breasts and then over her head. She exhaled as his deft hands traveled up her body, leaving her skin electric and alive.
"Don't stop touching me," she pleaded as she returned to his lips, crushing his, letting her teeth nibble at that soft flesh. All the while, his fingers roved over her, coming to rest under her breasts so that he could stroke and cup them. His fingers brushed her nipples, lightly at first, then squeezing with greater intensity. She cried out, her own urges stoked, and moved her lips to his neck. Her mouth worked fiercely against his tender skin pressing and biting, as though leaving a mark could somehow brand him as her own.
Breaking away at last, she raised herself slightly on her knees and moved his hand between her legs. He stroked without being told to, his fingers sliding out her clitoris, building up the mountain, scorching sensation that started to spread in her lower body. His fingers moved easily, aided by her own wetness. More and more, the ecstasy grew until it was almost agony, but she stopped him before she peaked.
Frantically, she tore at his boxers, getting them off as fast as she could, looking at that long, perfect hardness as she ground herself against him. She rubbed herself against that hardness, letting it finish the job his fingers had started. Almost instantly, she came, and before those spasms could even begin to fade, she slid him inside of her, letting him fill her up entirely.
He was still letting her take charge, but he wasn't unaffected. His breath came hard and heavy now, his lips parted with desire, and his eyes begged her to do more.
She rode on top of him, bringing herself down hard each time, willing him to pierce right through her. Her hands held him down as she thrust, not that he was trying to get away. Her breasts shook as their bodies moved together, skin slapping each time she moved down, forming a rhythm with their ragged breathing.
She was drowning in Rhys, liquid and golden, unable to get enough of him, and she moved harder still. She knew every angle she needed to make herself come and didn't even try to hold back the waves of bliss that racked her body. "Rhys, Rhys," she said over and over, sometimes whispering it, sometimes screaming it until finally exhausted and unable to move anymore. She stopped, nearly collapsing against him.
Barely able to breathe, she struggled to get the air she needed. He was still inside her, still ready, but she had nearly rubbed herself raw. Her throat was dry and raw, and sweat had formed a slick coating over her as she hung over him panting.
He watched her intently and caressed his hand over her damp cheek. Then flipped her over to her back to at last finish himself off. Gripping her ankles and hoisting them over her shoulder, he knelt before her and pushed back inside. A soft whimper escaped her lips.
She felt like jelly now, unable to do anything but lay there and let him have his way with her. Not that she minded, she appreciated the view. Her arms spread out over her head, fingers brushing his headboard and closed her eyes, just letting herself feel. Though she was spent, it still felt wonderful.
"Open your eyes," he commanded. Now he was taking control.
Her eyes opened and watched him working hard against her body, at last able to give in to his own pleasure. He'd held back for so long for her benefit, waiting until she was satiated. Now he was the greedy one, ravaging her in the way he wanted.
At last, he climaxed with a small groan, briefly closing his eyes, holding himself against her as he came. He slumped forward and pulled out, lying beside her.
He stayed like that for several moments, trying to catch his breath as she had earlier, then pulled her to him, so they spooned, the back of her body pressed against his front.
She realized then, with a dull and terrible emptiness, that he'd go sound to sleep, and she'd be able to leave without saying goodbye. It was a terrible thing to do, but no more awful than what she'd already done.
The night before, she tried to compose a note using an excuse of writing reports to get some alone time. No confession. But he at least deserved an explanation why she'd leave without completely ghosting him. It seemed easy enough to tell him long-distance relationships rarely worked, and she'd started over a dozen times, but there was nothing to say. If she promised to call or give him false hope of another visit, it only added to her list of lies. A clean break was best. No note. No goodbye.
This weekend would remain the greatest three days of her life. She'd go back to her grim apartment, decrepit car, and lack-luster job. Elia would be gone along with Rhys Wakefield.
She waited until his soft snores filled the silence. Taking three deep cleansing breaths for strength, she slithered out of bed, went to the bathroom, then lifted her suitcase, and tiptoed down the hallway. Once in the kitchen, she opened the bag, grabbed jeans and shirt, put them on, and slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops. Breath strangled in her throat from a mixture of fear and remorse. She removed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, then gulped. She set the glass on the counter and took one last look around the beautiful room. Bag and purse in hand, she eased the door open, then stepped into the humid morning air.
The moon sank, and her heart hitched a ride. She stared back at the place. A chorus of crickets and frogs sang from the lake, and the now-familiar squeak of the porch swing accompanied the melody. She took it all in, wanting to remember everything. Every sound. Every moment.
Once in her car, her fingers froze on the keys, half of her wished Rhys would rush out and drag her back inside, the other half, petrified he would. She turned the engine, backed around and headed down the drive. When she reached the road, she stomped the gas pedal and got as far away as fast as possible.
She swung by the rental place, dropped the car off, and headed home. If she turned around, drove through Mickey D's again, she'd be back at Rhys' house by seven with coffee and Egg McMuffins. Tell him the truth. Beg for mercy. Explain how the early menopause curse had clouded her judgment and made her go crazy, then offer to furnish character references as to her sanity.
But she remembered the scar on his chest. No. He'd never forgive her. He'd lump her into the same category as the cheater who'd gotten him shot. Arryn couldn't blame him. She wasn't any better. A lie was a lie, regardless of the reason.
She parked on the street and made her way back inside her apartment. The cats were nowhere to be seen. They probably thought she'd deserted them. She set her luggage down, plopped her purse onto the counter, then went to check their automatic dispenser bowls.
Not empty, but the shake of the Kibble bag caused the girls to come running. "Hey, ladies. Did you miss me?"
Arryn gave them fresh water, emptied their litter box, and took the sack to the dumpster.
After a quick shower, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Drifting to sleep, she brought Rhys's face into view.
Rhys rolled over, reached for Elia, and found the bed empty and cold. He opened his eyes and listened. No light under the bathroom door. No sounds from the kitchen. He smiled and pictured her on the back deck, watching the sun rise. She loved the view from there, and he loved the sight of her.
He imagined her leaned back, sunshine reflecting off her raven hair, bare toes running up and down Guinivere's spine, while the dog half-closed her eyes in pure ecstasy.
Funny. After two days, Rhys already liked having her there. Then reality hit him. This was their last day together, and it made his chest hurt.
Orlando was too far to drive for a weekend. Over four-hundred miles. She might as well live in another country. He thumbed open his phone and googled flights from Atlanta to Orlando. The prices were reasonable. He'd share the travel.
He sat up on the edge of the bed. He felt—happy, which was odd because he was always pretty content. But this was a different variety. This wasn't about beer with the guys or football Sundays. It didn't involve high-fives to celebrate landing a big account. This happiness occupied a part of his heart he'd paid no attention to until Elia. She filled it with her laughter, nervous rants, and the crazy button thing. How could that be? He didn't want her to disappear from his life. Not today. Maybe never.
Sonovabitch. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a lovesick high school boy. But then he remembered how good she felt in his arms, and excitement ignited within him. He pulled on his pajama pants and tee-shirt, then went to find her.
Through the wall of windows, he had a clear view of the back deck. No sign of her. He walked to the doorway, expecting to see her at the water's edge, but she wasn't there either. A strange feeling passed over him. He rushed to the front door and peered outside. Breath froze in his chest. Her car—gone.
He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to make sense of it. Why leave without saying goodbye? Sneak away as if avoiding being caught by a jealous wife. She knew there was no such person.
She'd claimed to like him, and he believed her. Why else extend her trip? He scanned the bar for a note. Checked the refrigerator door. The bathroom mirror. The coffee table. Her pillow. He hugged it to his chest and breathed in her scent.
His good mood from earlier evaporated, replaced with sadness he'd not felt since his grandfather's funeral, six years ago. An emptiness that only time could remedy, but he didn't want time or memories. He wanted her. Two days wasn't enough to plan a lifetime together, but plenty to realize it might be possible.
He rose and returned to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Caffeine helped him think. The early morning sex must have been her goodbye. A damn good one for sure, but some dialogue would have been nice.
He picked up a glass from the counter and ran his fingers around the rim where her lips had been. Such a kissable mouth. The one in the parking lot—the best first kiss of his life.
After popping a pod into the Keurig, dark Columbian brew streamed into his cup. Once it finished, he brought it to his mouth, blew across the surface, watched the vapor rise and disappear into thin air. He took a slow sip and picked up his phone. Shit. He didn't have her number.
He'd asked, but she'd never given it to him, and he could kick himself for the oversight. She didn't have his number either. Then his phone chimed, and his heart jumped in wasted hope, but when he saw the name, it fell back into place. Ace.
"Hey, Sis. What's up?"
"Is your bone buddy still there?" she whispered.
"Why are you talking so low? No one can hear you but me."
"Okay, crabby ass. Did she leave already? I want to hear all about her. Jethro told Val and said he couldn't tell much from where he was. Just that she had dark hair and a nice figure, so give me the rundown. Are you going to see her again? I mean, you're interested because you brought her there. To the cabin. No woman's land," she snorted on the other end. "Do I hear wedding bells?"
"Doubtful."
"Oh, come on. Give me something."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Yes. Something. So what is it?"
He clenched his jaw. "There was nothing wrong with her."
"Oh. My. God. You fell for her. I'm so happy."
"Pretty sure she doesn't feel the same."
"She doesn't want to see you again?"
"Guess not. She left this morning before I got up. I'd say the message is clear."
"I'm coming over."
Rhys started to protest, but she'd already hung up. In a way, he didn't want her to come, but she might explain why Elia acted as if she couldn't get enough of him and vanished without a word.
By the time Ace arrived, he had searched every place for a note. Elia had a playful personality, so she might write it in lipstick across a mirror, or pin it to the chaise, or tape it to a fishing pole. But he'd checked all those places and found nothing. It was time to face the truth. From the beginning, she indicated it was revenge sex against her ex, but Rhys had hoped it meant more. He shouldn't be pissed. She'd warned him. Even discouraged him. Tried to talk him out of it with that crazy sermon. Nope. He couldn't blame her. He'd pressed, invited her to stay. Brought her to the one place he'd never brought anyone before. Dammit to hell. His sister was right. Over the last three days, he had fallen for Elia.
Accalia opened the door without knocking and threw her arms around him. "Oh, my big brother has a crush. I'm so sorry you have a broken heart."
He backed away. "I'm not sure I'd classify it as heartbreak. I'll be fine." It wouldn't be as easy as he made it sound, but he didn't want Ace to know.
She dipped her head down and rolled her eyes up. "You invited her here. That tells me more than anything you can say. You've nev-ver brought anyone here. You can text her."
"Didn't get her number. Besides, she told me she'd recently broken up with someone. I figure this was a way for her to get back at her. It is what it is."
"And she's bi, too? I'd approve, but that seems moot now."
After his sister left, Rhys switched from coffee to whiskey and considered what he knew about Elia Green. She lived in Orlando and worked for a medical supply company. There couldn't be that many.
He grabbed his laptop and searched for her on Facebook and Instagram. He even checked Twitter and LinkedIn. No go. Then he looked up medical supply companies large enough to have sales reps and found two. He clicked on the first one and checked the employee roster. No Elia. He moved to the next one. Again, no luck. Strange. He remembered her saying she'd been with the company for three years. She should be listed.
He stared at the screen and wished he'd gotten the business name. There were other companies, but smaller. He doubted they had traveling representatives, but no harm in checking.
For the next hour, he investigated every possible company in or near Orlando. Nobody named Elia or Green appeared on any site. He closed the computer, leaned back in the chair, and stared at the ceiling. There was one other place he could check.
He waited in the parking lot until the Cowboy's neon sign came on, then got out of his truck and made his way inside. Standing behind the counter, the same bartender from the other night was hanging wine glasses in an overhead rack. Rhys walked over to him and got right to the point. "You remember me?"
Rick cocked his head. "Hooked up with the overdressed Mexican chick. Right?"
"Puerto Rican, but yeah. I was trying to get in touch with her and lost her number. Do you know any of the girls she was with that night?"
"She wasn't with any. Came alone."
"No, she was with that group sitting over there." He pointed to the vacant table.
Rick picked up a cloth and swirled it over the countertop. "Nope. They asked her to join their party because she was by herself. I thought you knew her."
"Why?"
He stared at Rhys like he was an idiot. "Because she was waiting for you."
"What do you mean?"
He stopped wiping and slung the rag over his shoulder. "Said she was waiting for someone and would give me a sign when you got here. Paid for the drink upfront."
None of it made sense. Why pick him, spend the weekend, then disappear like a ghost? If Rick hadn't confirmed her existence, Rhys would think he'd dreamt the whole thing.
Dundundun, a man on a mission. Things aren't adding up. What do you think is about to go down next?
TEASER: "Do you ever plan to tell me who she is?"
Wonder whats going on there
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