4. Rhys
Chapter four
Rhys
W hen he opened the door to Brianna’s store—he had taken to thinking of it as hers, even though he owned the building—Rhys had expected to see damaged drywall and broken shelves, not a dark-haired goddess in a neon green sweatshirt, surrounded by piles of fake greenery and cardboard boxes.
“Is it a florist you’re opening?” he asked, latching onto the only logical solution his addled brain could come up with. He thought she was striking when he first saw her silhouetted in the window on the cafe— how was that only a few weeks ago? —but dressed down in paint-splattered clothes, hair pulled back in a messy bun, face devoid of makeup, she looked utterly at home, and he was enchanted.
“Being a florist might be easier than trying to put these shelves up,” Brianna muttered. Their eyes locked, and he saw a bone-deep exhaustion that spoke of late nights and living on fumes. “I watched a few videos and it easy enough to do it on my own…”
“The videos that don’t show you all the bloopers, or the team of assistants behind the scenes actually doing the work?”
“Yes, those,” she laughed. “Let me guess, you’ve fallen prey to them as well?”
“Sure have. I’ve a paint sprayer that’s been used for a grand total of twelve minutes before I went back to a roller and brushes.” Rhys took a closer look at the wall closest to the front window, where a patch of drywall definitely needed replacing.
“It shouldn’t be more than an hour to get the drywall up and the mud on, then there’s the spackle, which will need a—”
“Did you say spackle?” Her shoulders shook as she laughed, and Rhys’s heart skipped a beat. “What on earth is spackle?”
“Spackle is a filler, used for small holes. It’s the sort of thing you might use if you ever take picture hooks out of the wall, or things like that.” He picked up the nearest box, grateful for anything to help to steer his thoughts away from Brianna’s laughter, then almost dropped it again when he saw he was holding.
“Is that…” He took a closer look at the greenery spilling out of the box he held. "Candy you’ve stuck on here?”
“It is. My Nana was crazy over those silly little Valentine’s Day candies, and it’s because of her that I have the means to open the shop. I found a hot glue gun and— voila.” She pointed towards the front of the store where a kitset counter was half-built. “I’ll have a dish of them available at the till for people to nibble on, but this is for the flower wall where people can take selfies.”
“Selfies,” he muttered. “A florist shop with a selfie wall.”
“Not a florist shop. A bookshop.”
“Very cool. Will you sell local books then, or hiking guides?”
“Ah, no.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper, and her blush was visible even with the light reflecting off the pink walls. “It’s a romance bookshop.”
“That explains the pink,” Rhys mused. “It was either that or a faerie shop.”
“Well… some of the books have faeries…” she stammered, and her blush deepened.
“Faerie romance?” He knew he was rolling his rs heavily—Adelaide had once told him it was his ‘tell’ for when he was surprised or shocked. “Never knew there was such a thing.”
“Oh, there is.” Brianna laughed. “Just maybe don’t look it up on your work computer.”
“Noted.” A vision of Brianna in a pastel-colored wedding gown, surrounded by fairy lights, appeared in his head.
Get a grip, man. You only meet her two weeks ago and you’re already picturing her walking down the aisle.
“I can install the drywall, no problem,” he said, in a desperate attempt to get himself back to reality, “but it’s already gone lunchtime. Even if I drive out and pick it up today, the light will have gone by the time I’m ready to do the mud—and it tends to go much better in daylight.”
“Oh.” Her face fell as she processed the implication of what he said. “So, we won’t get it done today after all.”
An idea struck him that would help Brianna out, and allow him to spend more time with her. “How about I help you clean all of this up, and then you could come with me to the hardware store in the morning? We can pick out some new shelves too.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” she hedged. “I can pay for it to be delivered.”
“You’ve missed the cutoff for delivery today, and you’ll spend more than the cost of drywall on the delivery fee anyway.” He made a beeline for a stack of boxes towards the back of the room. “Now, where are these going?”
Several hours later, his stomach was loudly protesting the skipped meal. When Adelaide had messaged him about helping Brianna, he’s been at the small grocery store in town for lunch. He’d abandoned his cart in the middle of the store—something he’d never done before—and hightailed it down the street, forgetting about everything else. After one particularly loud growl, Brianna put down the box she was unpacking and looked across the room at him.
“It’s a bit early for dinner, but I’m afraid your stomach might start eating itself if we don’t stop soon.”
He laughed, which went some way towards covering up another rumble even louder than the first. “Your cupcake-scented candle hasn’t been helping, I’ll admit. Although I’ve eaten worse things in the Army.”
“Eaten candles or your stomach lining?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “On second thoughts, don’t answer that—I’d rather not know.”
“I could order pizza…” he said, hoping she didn’t mind pineapple on it. His Army friends ragged on him incessantly for it, but there was only so much sliced meat a man could eat on a pizza before his tastebuds craved something sweeter.
“Sure, but my treat, as a thanks for all your help today.”
He was about to protest, then saw the stubborn set to her lip. “That’d be grand, thanks.”
While she was off picking up the pizza, he rustled around the small kitchen out the back, and found two cans of soda in the fridge and a pile of napkins. Then he let himself into the cafe next door and borrowed a folding table, two chairs and a tablecloth. Claire would never know—and even if she did, she wouldn’t mind.
He was just moving the cupcake-scented candle to the center of the table when Brianna came back, the steam from the pizza boxes visible in the wintery blast that accompanied her.
“Oh!” Her face lit up as she surveyed his handiwork. “I was just going to eat on the floor.”
“It’s hardly fine dining, but… I thought you might like a comfortable seat.” As she placed the pizzas on the middle of the table, he suddenly remembered what was missing. “Plates! I’ll just grab—”
“Rhys.” Her small hand curled around his elbow, making him freeze in place. “This is fine. Actually, it’s really nice. Let’s just eat, okay?”
The next hour flew by as they demolished the two pizzas. She told him about her vision for the store, and her plans for author signings, a book club and an annual writing retreat. Then the conversation turned, and he shared some of the highlights of his time overseas as an explosives expert. He knew from experience that if he kept the anecdotes light and fluffy, there was less chance of him waking up from a nightmare at 3 a.m., the sheets soaked with sweat, and all chance of getting back to sleep gone.
His phone buzzed on the table in front of him, startling him out of a story he was telling about a particularly raucous drinking night with some friends.
“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late,” Brianna said, looking out the window to where snow had started to fall.
“Adelaide’s asking if I’m home for dinner, so I should probably get going before the roads get too slippery.”
They worked together quickly to pack away the rubbish from dinner and put Claire’s furniture back, then he was at the door, zipping up his jacket against the cold blast waiting outside.
“Thanks again, Rhys,” Brianna said quietly, biting her lip and looking at the floor before she seemed to make a decision. To his surprise, she stepped towards him and gave him a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and inhaled softly.
I could get used to this…
All too soon it was over, and he was making his way back to his truck that was still in the grocery store parking lot—but the warm feeling from her spontaneous hug lingered.
Even though he tried to distract himself with a movie that evening, his attention frequently wandered back to his afternoon with Brianna. More than once she caught him gazing at her when he was supposed to be putting together the front counter and setting up her point-of-sale system. But as naturally as their conversation had flowed, he couldn’t bring himself to casually mention that he was Cpl Sparky LLC, and the owner of her building.
You’ll have to do it eventually—she doesn’t seem the kind of person to tolerate secrets, or lies.
After resolving yet again to tell her in the morning, Rhys gave up on the movie, picked up his phone and settled in to find out what faerie romance was. Mindful of Brianna’s comment about using the work computer, he disconnected from the home Wi-Fi and switched across to cellular data. He was grateful for the use of Riley and Adelaide’s spare room while he looked for his own apartment, but if there was any chance of finding R-rated material, he’d prefer to do it on his own internet connection.
Two hours later, he was well and truly sucked into a whole new world. He’d grown up knowing all about faeries—magical creatures that guarded every waterway in Scotland—but the bedtime stories from his childhood bore little resemblance to the books that now filled his To Be Read list. If Adelaide or Riley ever discovered this, he would never hear the end of it.
He popped in his earbuds and downloaded the first audiobook on his list. To the casual observer, his scar was the only outward sign of the explosion that changed his life ten years ago. But since then, Rhys found audiobooks resulted in less strain on his eyes and fewer headaches.
After rearranging the pillows, he lay back on his bed and let himself be carried away into the story. Behind his closed eyes, the female lead shared Brianna’s inky dark hair and soft grey eyes. And when she declared her love for the exiled faerie king on a misty mountain pass, Rhys imagined the passionate words were directed at him.
It was a long time before he got to sleep that night.