Chapter Fourteen
brISTOL
The moment I walk into Bloomfield Animal Haven two hours later, I feel the weight of everything pressing down on me lift. This is my happy place. How lucky am I to dedicate my life to something that gives me so much joy and fulfillment? There’s nothing I won’t do for this place.
Chatter fills the lobby as two families are here looking to adopt their new family member, while the staff helps them out.
I immediately look for Rhys’ face among the small crowd, wondering if he’s here already.
My heart skips a beat as I remember being locked in the storage closet together, how he sat with Harvey for hours, all our talks in my office, and how easy it is to talk to each other. I want more of it. All of it.
Holy shit. The realization hits me like a Mack truck.
I’ve completely fallen for him.
The bell chimes from the front door as I’m lost in thinking about him, the way he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. It’s heady, consuming, and . . . I love it. Love hi—
“So, who is he?” Kira’s voice startles me as she sneaks up on my left, plopping two to-go mugs on the counter.
“What are you talking about?”
“The man making you smile. I don’t mean to be mean, but I am going to point out what’s obvious, and right now?
There’s a sparkle in your eyes that I haven’t seen in years, and I just talked to you this morning, where you looked like you sucked on a lemon.
I know you aren’t suddenly getting fucked within an inch of your life, so spill.
” I can’t control the heat that flames on my face, and I know Kira sees it.
“Oh my god! Are you being railed?” I wrench Kira’s arm and drag her into my office, closing the door behind us.
“Keep your voice down! Jesus! No! I’m not being . . . railed . . .”
“Okaaay. But there is something you’re not telling me,” she says as she props her ass up on the edge of my desk, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve got all day, babe, so you had better spill.
” I open my mouth to come up with some explanation for her observations when there’s a knock on my door, saving me from having to further this conversation.
“Sorry to interrupt, Bristol, but Rhys is here and asked to see you. He’s brought coffee again.” My face ignites, and I just know my traitorous bitch of a body is bright crimson right now as butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach. He’s here.
“Thank you, Kendra, I’ll be right there.” She shuts the door as she retreats, leaving me alone with my smug best friend.
Kira looks at me with curiosity, her eyebrows raised, big brown eyes squinted, lips pursed. “Who’s Rhys, Bristol?”
“A volunteer.”
“A volunteer whose name just made you blush like you did when Justin Fletcher asked you to the school dance in sixth grade. Who. Is. Rhys?”
Shit, there’s no way out of this. Kira is like a modern-day freaking Sherlock Holmes on the case. If she even smells that something is remotely off, she won’t let it go until she gets to the bottom of it.
“Kira, he’s a volunteer.”
“A volunteer. Hmm. Okay. I’ll just go say hi, then. I’m sure you won’t mind.” Kira starts to walk toward my office door, and I know her well enough to know she’s dead serious. I grab her forearm with both hands, pulling her back as she lurches forward, gripping the handle of the door.
“Kira! Stop, stop!” And just like when we were kids, we’re battling each other for dominance. Kira pushes to wrench free of my grasp as I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back as she lurches forward, the door handle rattling as she grapples with opening it.
“Kira! Fucking stop! You’re not going to talk to him!”
“You gonna talk?”
“He’s a volunteer in Amberwood. We met the day I went over there for the day, then he volunteered here.”
“And?”
“And we’ve become friends.”
“Friends.”
“Yes, friends.” Even though I know he wanted to see if we could be more. I don’t mention the heat in his eyes when he looks at me, or the way the earth seems to shake under us when he touches me, or that for the first time in my thirty years I feel seen, safe, and . . . whole.
“Friends don’t make you blush like that.”
“I’m engaged, Kira, I’m not sleeping with him.”
“You could.”
“Kira! For fuck’s sake.”
“I’m just saying, it’s not like limp dick is giving you any . . . with his peen or his mouth.”
“Okay, I’ve had enough. Time for you to go,” I say as I start to push her toward the door.
“Do I get to meet him?”
“Nope.”
Just as I open the door to shove Kira out, we come face-to-face with the man himself, all broad shoulders and muscular arms, his green eyes focused on me, his face softening, and I swear to god, all I see is longing reflected back.
“Rhys.” His name is a rush on my lips as I take in the healing cut above his eye, the fading black and blue, mixed with a gnarly green.
His hand moves up to his face, a thumb dragging across his bottom lip slowly.
He doesn’t notice Kira, despite how, any time we go anywhere together, all eyes are usually on her. She’s a freaking knockout.
Kira coughs, my eyes breaking from his to look at her. I find her smiling ear to ear, like she just found the most amusing thing in the world.
“Thanks for coffee, I’ll call you later,” she says as she leans in to kiss my cheek. “I approve of whatever the fuck this is,” she whispers before turning her back on us and walking down the hallway.
Then I’m left alone with him. At least it feels that way in a hallway with people passing and the bark of dogs around us.
“Was wondering when you’d be in.”
“Miss me, Dr. Owens?” he asks, his voice deep and husky, caressing over my body like velvet. My eyes dart all over his face, coming to a stop at those piercing emerald green eyes, then to the healing injuries.
Grabbing his hand, I drag him into my office, shoving his big body into the chair in front of my desk.
He goes willingly, despite being so much bigger than me.
I quickly shut the door behind me, moving back to him.
I uncharacteristically crowd his space, standing between his legs as I tilt his head back so I can look at the injury.
The heat of his fingers twitching behind my knees nearly takes my breath away. It’s obvious he wants to touch me, but he’s restraining himself, and I don’t know whether to be happy or disappointed about that.
My hands delicately touch the side of his face, tilting it back slightly so I can look at his cuts and bruises, a million possibilities running through my mind.
When his tattooed hands reach up, curling around both of my wrists, I see the damaged skin on his knuckles.
Red and raised, the skin already scabbing, the surrounding area bruised and still slightly swollen.
There’s only one way these injuries can happen, and it’s not from doing anything safe.
I instinctively step away, his hands dropping to his thighs, along with his expression.
“What happened?” I say, a bit of a demand laced in my tone.
My heart thunders in my chest, my mouth dry as the desert.
Rhys’ eyes pinch inward, a look of desperation pleading back at me.
“Please don’t be scared of me. I couldn’t take it if you were scared.
I’d never hurt you, Bristol, please believe that much.
” He says the words with such sincerity, such concern, that his voice breaks as he says my name.
I don’t know how to explain it, or even if I could, but I know he’d never do anything to hurt me.
I’ve never felt safer with someone, despite us not knowing each other for very long.
“I believe you. What happened?”
“There’s something you need to know about me, but remember what I said, okay? I’d die before I hurt you, before I let anyone else hurt you.”
I can feel my heartbeat in places it doesn’t belong, my throat, my ears, my fingertips.
All the air in the room evaporates, like it’s holding its breath right along with me.
I try to keep my expression neutral, but every part of me is freaking out.
Everything I’ve felt for this man, everything I thought, and I didn’t realize he was keeping something so big from me.
Rightfully so, considering his injuries. You don’t get those injuries randomly.
“Okay . . .”
“I’m the vice president of a motorcycle club. Hell’s Heathens.”
My stomach knots tighter. A motorcycle club?
His words momentarily stun me, but then I look at him and take it all in.
I don’t know much about motorcycle clubs outside of Charlie Hunnam and Sons of Anarchy, but Rhys is definitely fitting the vibe.
Not to put him in a stereotypical box, but it definitely works.
Fear grips me next. Motorcycle Clubs are notoriously dangerous, filled with violent criminals.
My eyes flick down to his battered knuckles, and suddenly, I feel like the world’s biggest idiot.
Am I that desperate? That stupid? I didn’t see all the red flags with Blake and now Rhys, too? What is wrong with me?
“I’ve never heard of them,” I say quickly, fidgeting with my fingers and taking another small step backward.
Beneath the pit of nerves, there’s this pull to him, a fragile hope that I can’t let go of, wanting him to explain so I understand.
There’s no way this man is a violent criminal.
It’s not possible. There’s no way I’m this wrong about him.
“That’s a good thing. We stay quiet most of the time, focusing on our businesses and families. We live in Amberwood and don’t often leave there. We take care of the community in any way we can, and we take care of any evil that pops up that threatens our peace.”
A chill runs down my spine as I take in the gravity of his last words.
“And by take care of you mean . . .”
“We stop it, Bristol. We protect those who can’t protect themselves. By any means necessary.”
“So, the bruises, your hands . . . that’s from fighting.”
He regards me for a moment, like he’s contemplating how much to tell me. “Yeah, it’s from fighting.”
“But you’re okay?” I ask, squeezing my fingers at my torso, the idea of something worse happening to him making my stomach turn with a fear I’ve never felt before.
I can’t believe the man I’m so consumed with is involved in an organization like that.
One where he’s guilty of violence, of god knows what else.
But the thought of someone hurting him? Of him getting himself killed?
“Bristol—” he practically whispers, his voice low and deep. “The way you’re looking at me right now would make most men happy. But to see your concern? It’s wrecking me, love.”
His words, the delivery, the name—it’s all a lot, and my heart feels like it’s cracking open wide as emotions I’ve never felt before consume me.
My words fracture as I say them, almost desperately.
“You’re hurt . . . of course I’m concerned.
” He stands, taking two steps into my space, his hands moving to my face, brushing the rogue hairs to tuck behind my ears.
Chills break out across my skin, my cheeks warming with heat.
I want to lean into the touch, to ask him to never stop.
He looks at me with so much reverence, so much adoration and desire that I swear I feel it down to the marrow of my bones. I expect him to say something, anything, on topic, but his next words nearly bring me to my knees. I know without a shadow of a doubt that everything is about to change.
“You don’t even realize what you do to me, the power you hold, how one word from you quiets every storm in my head.
I swear, being near you feels like finally finding the place I’ve been trying to return to my entire life.
There isn’t a single part of my existence, past, present, or whatever the hell comes next, that doesn’t ache for you. ”