Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(46)

It’s honestly a perfect match for what’s going on inside my head right now. Chaos, confusion, amusement. They all war together with a heavy serving of red wine as I walk Cora back out to Ford’s SUV and bid them good night.

Then I walk back into my house to face Wild Side.



Rhys is in the kitchen, his back to me, a glass of red wine in one hand, the other casually slung into his pocket as he looks out over the darkened backyard.

Like this, in his tuxedo, he looks too refined for the type of brutality I just watched him dole out on TV—allegedly dole out—and I could burst at the seams with all the questions perched at the tip of my tongue. I could use another glass of wine, but not before I get this out of my system.

“Hey…”

His head inclines in my direction, but he doesn’t turn.

“Can I talk to you in the living room?”

His body stills, but this time, he looks at me. And it makes me suck in a breath as though I’ve been sucker punched. The harsh lines of his face, that pronounced brow. He does look like he could kill me or fuck me. And with a face like his, I’d say thank you either way.

Thank you, sir. Will you please twist my panties and whisper something dirty in my ear one last time before I go?

I shake my head at myself. No more wine for this gal tonight. Throat too dry to speak, I wave a hand over my shoulder, urging him to follow me. I head straight to the TV and rewind the event Cora was watching right to about when I walked into the living room.

Rhys takes his sweet-ass time following, but when he makes it to me, his face is doing that blank thing he does so well. He avoids looking at the TV like a dog who’s made a mess in the corner and thinks if they don’t look, their human won’t either.

With two sure steps, I reach him, grab his arm, and drag him so that he’s standing in front of the TV.

Then I step back from him.

“Tabitha, what are you—”

I hit play.

He winces at the announcer’s voice, the thumping of boots, the boos from the crowd. Then those first few notes of a song ring out, and the roar of the crowd almost drowns it out. This time, gooseflesh fans across my arms as I watch the masked man appear at the top of the ramp.

I pause it and draw nearer to him. And then I scrutinize the shape of Rhys’s lips. His hand so gentle on the crystal stem of his wineglass. The way his waist tapers in from impossibly broad shoulders.

“That’s you.”

His dark eyes bore into mine, and his Adam’s apple bobs heavily.

“You don’t leave for weeks at a time to fuck people. You leave for weeks at a time to fuck people up.”

His tongue pops into the side of his cheek, and that seals the deal for me. It’s him.

“Tabitha…”

My lips curve up. “Am I Mrs. Wild Side?”

Rhys rolls his eyes and looks away.

“Dude. Are you famous?”

His free hand slides up over his throat before moving around to grip the back of his neck. Then he drops my gaze. His body language is all shy and bashful.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What is that?” I step closer again, landing a firm poke in the middle of his hard chest as I come toe-to-toe. “You’re looking down? What is that?”

He sighs, and his tan cheeks flare a similar shade to his wine. “I don’t usually tell people about this.”

“Why? It’s fucking cool. So much cooler than being a stunt double.” His nose wrinkles, and when he finally meets my eyes, he looks… “Are you embarrassed?”

A rough laugh fills the air between us. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I love my job, but people always get so weird about it, so I just don’t talk about it.”

My head tilts. “Weird how?”

“Usually, I become the butt of their jokes. Or I have to listen to them talk about how it’s all fake. Or it just…it ends up putting a lot of attention on me that I don’t want.”

My chest twinges at the memory of the bruises on him. It may be scripted, but those were not fake. I shimmy my shoulders. Okay, I’m not Rhys’s biggest fan, but I’m stuck with him for better or for worse, and that has me feeling a little territorial.

At this moment, I decide that I am the only person allowed to mock him.

“Most things on TV are fake.”

One side of his mouth hitches up at that. “The other thing that happens is that people ask for money in a roundabout way. With my background, it’s just been…less complicated to fly under the radar. Keep the anonymity. I’ve learned to enjoy my solitude.”

At that, I pale.

Money. I knew he had it. But not like this.

“Oh god.”

“What?”

“We didn’t sign a prenup. You have stuff. I have…a restaurant.”

His smile is grim as he offers me one terse nod. “I know. I would never though.”

I’m blaming the wine for the way my heart pitter-patters as he stares down at me. This big, brutal man who holds Milo with such gentleness, who turned his successful life upside down in ways I didn’t comprehend until now.

A man I barely know has put it all on the line to keep my nephew with me.

We don’t address the enormity of what he’s done, and I’m struck by the realization that Rhys is not who I thought he was, in more ways than one. It’s not just his job; it’s the type of human he is.