Wild Side (Rose Hill #3)

38. Tabitha

CHAPTER 38

TABITHA

I’m pretty sure I walk bowlegged into Ford and Rosie’s house. It’s like someone flipped a switch between Rhys and me, and now we’re fucking like rabbits.

Or newlyweds, I guess.

All I need to do is look at him, and he’s on me. All he needs to do is that thing where he pops his tongue into his cheek, and I’m on him. I don’t think I’ve slept, and somehow, I feel incredible.

Must be all that energy in my chakras.

“Come on in! Ford’s out at the barbecue.” Rosie waves us along, and I reach back for Rhys, not wanting to be far from him even if he’s ruined my vagina with his massive dick. Doris always says her husband’s big dick makes her happy, and I have to confess I can see why.

When Rosie invited us over for dinner, I didn’t want to go, but I was also hungry, and we both agreed we didn’t feel like cooking.

Rhys’s warm hand slips over mine, and I lead him into their house. It’s an old farmhouse in the area that Ford had stripped down to the studs. It’s all exposed wood beams and floor-to-ceiling windows. Open concept, modern, yet cozy as hell.

West and Skylar are already seated at the kitchen island and turn to greet us.

“Hello, Duprises!” West says with his signature shit-eating grin. “Or wait. Are we Garrisons? I’m a modern kind of guy. I can see the merits of either.”

Rhys’s fingers tighten on my hip. It sends a zing of excitement through me. I love when he grips me hard, but in this instance, I get the sense this is pressing on a sore spot. So I move to cut in. “We’re actually?—”

But West keeps going, a stream of consciousness that nothing can stop. “Oooh! You could also hyphenate. Garrison-Dupris has a nice ring to it.”

“We’re undecided,” Rhys says with an easy smile, though it’s the tension in the lines beside his eyes that gives him away. “All great options.”

I press closer to his side, slinging my hand into his back pocket and giving his ass a firm squeeze. An amused snort draws my attention back over my shoulder to the huge sectional facing the fireplace. Ford’s daughter, Cora, is seated there, sketch pad in hand, smirking at me.

When Rhys sees that a child has busted me groping him, he groans and starts toward the counter to take a seat. He’s a shy boy at heart. It’s part of his charm. It’s part of what makes his filthy mouth in bed hot as hell too.

I turn and point at Cora. “Beat it, kid,” I tease with a wink, and she just shakes her head before going back to drawing with a big grin on her face.

With only a few steps forward, I swoop in to give Skylar a hug before holding her out with a hand on each shoulder and looking her over. “You look good. Really good.”

And she does. She looks rested and happy and healthy and so unlike the woman who showed up in town earlier this year.

“Tabby Cat, you hitting on my woman?” West teases as he takes a sip of his beer.

Skylar rolls her eyes at him before glancing back at me. “You do too.” She taps her undereye. “You look like you’ve finally been getting some sleep.”

And okay, I’ve looked pretty bedraggled the few times we’ve spent time together. Tired, sad, and too skinny. But mourning is hard, and some days feel worse than others.

Today feels good, even though the comment about sleeping almost makes me snort. I definitely have not been sleeping. But what I’ve been doing has been rather restorative.

“Or just getting some !” West teases like the absolute menace that he is.

I roll my eyes at him and then turn my attention back to Skylar. “Thank you,” I say and slip onto the stool next to Rhys. He pulls it closer to him before draping his hand possessively over my thigh.

“We’re just doing a variety of apps, keeping it casual,” Rosie says as she slides us both a glass of red wine.

“That’s perfect,” I say, but it comes out dreamy and absent-minded because I’m watching Rhys test the wine. The tendons in his hand flex as he swirls it, his square jaw looking defined as he tips it toward his nose and smells it.

“Good god,” Rosie laughs the words out as she gawks at me.

“What?” I feel my cheeks heat instantly as West and Skylar look my way. Rhys turns, and I feel his gaze lick down my side profile.

“You two are like…” Rosie waves both hands over us with a flustered expression on her face. “I don’t know. An energy.”

West giggles, and from the corner of my eye, I see Skylar subtly elbow him. Rhys’s full lips twitch, and I slice him a glare before turning back to Rosie. “What is with everyone and energy right now?”

“Gwen,” she says, lifting her wineglass and pointing my way.

Of course .

I deflect the conversation with, “Is she coming tonight?”

“I invited her, but apparently she’s helping Clyde up at his cabin?”

Ford walks in with a scrunched brow and carrying a plate of grilled skewers. “Hi, everyone. A show of hands if you think we should go rescue Gwen after dinner.”

West’s hand shoots up, and Rhys just laughs, but Skylar is curious. “What is she doing up there? Isn’t it kind of remote?”

Rosie shrugs. “I don’t know. It sounds like he’s having some health issues, and she’s helping around his place. Bash might know more.”

My lips flatten. Based on Bash’s reaction to her recently, I somehow doubt that. But hey, what do I know?

From there, conversation flows freely, and I relax into the evening. Rhys is never far, and even while he eats, there’s contact. It ranges from knees tipped together beneath the counter to his big hand massaging my shoulder.

Which should feel good, except it makes me uncomfortably horny.

The food is delicious, the setting is homey, and the company can’t be beat. And for the first time since Erika’s death, I’m happy.

The guys talk about bowling, and I settle into a happy, relaxed buzz. Only when Rhys says he won’t be able to meet them for an extra practice on the weekend do I pay closer attention.

Partly because, deep down, I don’t want him to leave again. And partly because West asks, “Are you ever gonna tell us what your job is? It keeps me awake at night.”

I jump in, ready to keep the story the same as what I told my parents. It seems simple. “He’s a stunt?—”

“I’m a professional wrestler.”

My head shoots in my husband’s direction, and my jaw drops open.

“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” West holds up both hands with a look of astonished excitement on his face. “Like a WPW type of thing?”

Rhys takes a sip of his wine, eyes darting to mine. “Yeah, actually WPW.”

“Holy fuck, that’s so cool.”

Skylar nods with wide eyes. “Agreed. And I can totally see it!”

I’m still in shock that he said it out loud when West adds, “What’s your wrestler name? I’m going to watch now. Cora, you watch, right?”

One glance at Ford, and I see him zeroed in on the couch behind us. Rhys turns to look—just in time for Cora to turn the color of the world’s ripest cherry.

She stares at Rhys, her gaze dropping to the sleeve of black tattoos that scroll up one arm. Then she mutters, “Fuck my life,” and leaves the living room without looking up from the floor.

“Is she okay?” Rhys sounds genuinely concerned.

“You don’t happen to be Wild Side, do you?” Ford asks from where he’s leaned against the counter with crossed arms.

“I…” There’s a nervousness in Rhys’s gaze as he glances at me. “Am?”

Rosie winces and covers her mouth with her palm, shoulders shaking as she laughs and looks back at Ford. “What are the fucking chances?”

Ford tips his head back and groans. “Fuck my life.”

And I’m already piecing it together. I didn’t even think about that night when Cora showed me his entrance. Or the fact that she seemed so excited about him being back.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Rhys is still bewildered.

“Cora is a huge WPW fan,” Rosie says carefully.

“Okay and?” West asks, also confused. Because… men.

His sister glares back at him. “More specifically, a huge Wild Side fan.”

“And?”

Skylar lets out a little snort before turning to him. “Seriously? You, of all people? My number one fan doesn’t recognize someone who has a crush on someone famous?”

West’s mouth turns into a round O shape as realization dawns on him, and Rhys sits up straight, staring back at our friends and looking like he’s in trouble. “But I’m… old?”

“You do wear a mask, so it’s hard to tell,” Rosie says with a light laugh. “Honestly, who hasn’t had a crush on an older man in their life, ya know? Totally normal. This too shall pass. I’ll go find my little storm cloud and show her some other good options for crushes, so it doesn’t have to be on our friend’s husband.”

“Rosalie.” Ford sighs.

But she’s already walking away. “Don’t Rosalie me, bossman. We’re not at work.”

She’s to the stairs when he shouts, “Can you at least give her some age-appropriate options?”

That sends Skylar and me into a fit of giggles.

“Anyway.” Ford reaches forward to toast Rhys. “A fucking wrestler, man—that’s pretty cool.”

West lifts his glass, but then pauses. “Wait, so are you just a cat dad?”

Rhys shrugs, looking almost bashful. “I’m a cat dad. And I was friends with Erika, so I’ve done my best to fill that role for Milo. Like where I can. I love him like he’s my own. Even though I know it’s not the same?—”

“Nah.” West waves him off. “Don’t qualify that. Parenthood isn’t black and white. It sneaks up on us where we least expect it. If it walks like a duck and all that.”

Rhys gives him a grateful smile. And like West can tell he’s struck an emotional chord, he pivots to lighten the mood. “I mean, look at Rosie. Who ever knew she’d be a mouse mom one day?”

Skylar laughs. “Hey, don’t pick on, Scotty. He is a well-loved—and fed—mouse!”

West chuckles and lifts his drink once more. “To parenthood, in all its iterations.”

With that, we all toast. And I watch my husband smile as a visible weight lifts from his shoulders before settling in to enjoy a night with friends. One less secret weighs him down, but a brand new one pops into existence for me.

My newest secret is that I’m happy.

Being married to Rhys makes me happy. Really, truly happy.

So when we get home and he turns like he’s going to go to the basement, I stop him.

I take him by the hand and lead him up to my room instead.