Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(52)

A heavy sigh rushes from my lungs. Fucking threenagers, man. Hearing no is currently one of his least favorite pastimes.

I can see the tantrum coming from a mile away. It’s the change in his voice, the tension in his tiny limbs. I start to turn, ready to intercept.

“I want—”

But Rhys cuts Milo off, his voice firm but calm as he removes him from his shoulders and crouches down in front of him, coming eye-to-eye with the little boy. “Milo, we’re at a grocery store. We need to help Tabby choose food for the week. This isn’t the time or place for that game. And honestly, if you talk to me like that, I won’t want to play it at all.”

I blink. I don’t know why I’m surprised by the way Rhys handles him, but I am. Milo’s little lips work even as his eyes go glassy. With crossed arms, he tips his nose up and looks away, guilt and pride warring on his face.

“After?” He finally slides his eyes back, one brow quirking at Rhys.

I almost giggle. Erika used to do that too. That exact thing with her eyebrow.

Rhys nods. “If you can shop with us and be polite, then we’ll talk. Think you can do that?”

Milo straightens, as though physically rising to the challenge. Then he nods once, firmly. And in that motion, I see Rhys.

It’s strange to see and even more strange to think about—this man I barely know really has had an impact on my nephew. Such a profound one that I can pick pieces of him out now that I know what to look for.

Rhys nods back and then takes him by the hand, marching past me with a wink that makes me a little weak in the knees. I watch as Rhys pulls out a cart and lifts Milo into the seat.

Then he turns back to me with an effortless, “You coming, baby?” that makes my cheeks feel warm. And based on the way his eyes trail over my face, I don’t think he misses it.

With a thick swallow, I pull myself together and forge ahead into the store while trying not to overthink the show we have to put on for the gazes that linger on us.

We start out in the meat section, and I watch in awe as Rhys basically cleans the place out of all their chicken breasts.

“Breasts, huh?” I joke as he piles them into the cart.

He rolls his eyes, but then they land on me, hot and dark below the heavy slashes of his brow. They trail slowly, intentionally, down over my throat and straight to my chest.

“Yup. They’re my favorite,” is all he says before turning away and pushing the cart along.

With hotter cheeks than I had before, I hustle after him. I’m grateful for the way Milo chatters away about which snacks he wants so I don’t have to make small talk with my husband.

I don’t know why I’m all bumbling and nervous around him. I just know that talk we had followed by an afternoon nap in the sun feels like it changed something between us. Like we shared pieces of ourselves and know each other a little better.

In fact, I find myself questioning a lot of the things I know about Rhys. I find myself wondering if there’s more to the story with Rhys that Erika may have conveniently left out. Most of all, I find myself questioning if Rhys could possibly be as bad as I made him out to be in my head.

It’s starting to seem unlikely, which leaves me feeling… adrift.

But reality comes slamming back when Rhys puts his hand on my back again. I try—and fail—to cover the shiver that races down my spine when he touches me.

This is all for show, I remind myself as I glance around. It’s pretend.

“Are you cold?” Rhys’s voice is like gravel, the feel of his breath against the shell of my ear a distracting tease as he leans in close.

“A little,” I lie.

Which backfires spectacularly when he tucks me against his side, draping one heavily corded arm around my neck. He drops a chaste kiss against my hair and continues sauntering through the grocery store like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Me? My heart is racing like I’ve just run a marathon. Which is bizarre because I fucking hate running and would never.

Before I know it, our cart is full and we’re in line at the checkout. I feel like I just snuggled against Rhys in a blissed-out daze for twenty minutes. I’m not even sure if all the food we got makes sense, but I can get creative and make it work.

Milo is in his own world playing with his dinosaur as I stare at the magazines at the checkout. My eyes catch on one in particular that makes me smile. Skylar’s happy face staring back at me with a shiny golden award in her hand. That’s when I feel Rhys’s body tense and turn next to mine. His fingers dig into my hip and pressure coils in my pelvis before I even realize what’s going on.

When I look up, Rhys is glaring at the man one line over. Too Tall, or as the guys have taken to calling him, Stretch. My lips twitch. That spin on his chosen nickname probably drives Terence fucking nuts.

I don’t know what his deal is, only that he’s been a raging dickhead to me ever since I broke up with him as a teenager, and that only makes me want to needle him more.

“Ah, Terry. Fancy meeting you here,” I say, not missing the sneer he shoots Rhys’s way. The condescending look he gives my husband gets my back up.

But Rhys doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he gives him a show of perfect white teeth as he scrubs his left hand over his beard and lets his eyes trail over the other man like he’s yesterday’s trash. “Right. Stretch. I forgot about you.”