Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Duncan
Only Attempted Murder
"Rhys, come help me get that horse of yours fed." Granny says after Rhys and I emerge from the bedroom I'm sharing with Delilah at the back of the house. He’s a big boy, he can handle Granny Franny for a few minutes.
"How was your walk back?" Delilah asks as I reach into the tin for a biscuit.
"Great."
"And the water sports?" She raises an eyebrow.
I lean in and whisper. "We didn't piss on each other if that’s what you’re asking. Just a good old fashioned hosing off."
"That doesn't sound any better." Del shakes her head as she turns off the kettle.
I munch on a cookie with my ass leaning on the counter. I glance back at Delilah and shrug. "We needed to clean each other up."
"I hate that you're my brother because I want to keep going down this path but it's weird."
"You finally quit those taboo books then?" For a while she'd text being like, I can't believe this is real and I'd have to remind her it was fiction.
"No, but that's also why I'm not taking this conversation any further."
"Fine. So, how's your love life?" I ask as we move to the little peninsula with our tea.
"To put it in baseball terms, striking out looking."
"Shame, you have more fun striking out swinging."
"Yeah well, the last two haven't had much to swing with if you know what I mean."
"No emotional girth?" My mother asks as she rounds the corner into the kitchen.
"Something like that." Delilah answers her.
Granny comes back into the house with Rhys on her heels, saying something about her seventh cousin, Lazlo The Gent.
Rhys’s eyes are wide open as he listens to Granny tell him about her pirate ancestors.
Before I can escape the kitchen to rescue him, my mom wraps Delilah and I under her arms and squeezes. "One who wants a relationship and one who seems to be allergic, I'm a lucky mother."
"And I’m a lucky mother fucker!" My dad booms and I catch Rhys's eye from across the room as Del shoves my dad in the shoulder.
"Gross."
"My family is pretty open." I widen my eyes because, clearly.
"I can tell." Rhys says as he takes a mug from me.
"So I was just getting an update on Rhys's parents. And how his dear old mother is doing." Granny says to all of us.
"I'm not sure she'd appreciate you calling her old." My mother says as she takes a seat. "Nicola is only a few years older than I am."
"Oh you young folk are all too sensitive about your age. I'm eighty-three and am as proud as a peacock to be so aged."
"Like a fine Scotch, Granny." Dad says.
"Exactly." Granny points a finger at him. She shifts and pats Rhys's knee. "Now, be a dear and give me all the gossip that hasn't made its way down the road."
He laughs. "Not much to share. Things are pretty quiet."
"Aye, I suppose so." Granny says with a sad sort of nod. "Well then, what brings you home?"
Rhys shifts uncomfortably in his chair. I step in. "I think Rhys is back home to bury the lemons life handed him."
"Ach, bollox. When life gives you lemons?
That old box of horse hockey?" I knew the phrase would tee her off and the reactions around the room are priceless.
My mother is rolling her eyes, my father is biting back his smile, Delilah is watching the exchange with blatant excitement, and Rhys looks like a deer in the headlights.
"Life is the whole damn fruit salad and you need a little sour with the sweet! "
Granny finishes her mantra with a boney finger on Rhys's thigh.
His eyes go wide. "I must say I haven't heard it put that way before."
"I should get it trademarked." Granny mutters.
"We'll look into it." Delilah says.
"But you've distracted me, Duncaroo." Her scolding holds no heat. "Rhys Reid, are you here to nurse a broken heart?"
Rhys chokes on his tea.
"Granny." Delilah scolds.
"Ach, like it's a secret. I saw the magazine you brought with you."
Delilah's cheeks flush and mine heat too.
"Well then you seem to know it all don't you." Rhys says as he wipes a palm down his thigh.
"I highly doubt that but I'm an old woman with many connections if you need ‘em."
Rhys's brow furrows.
"You're hardly in with MI6." Mom rolls her eyes.
"Ach, I'm a pirate, I'd never go to the government. In my circles we have a saying..."
"Another saying?" Rhys asks.
"Aye, and here it is. If at first you don't succeed..." She pauses and Rhys looks at her with rapt attention. Granny sits up taller, she crooks a finger so Rhys leans in closer. She holds up a hand to the side of her mouth and stage-whispers, "It's only attempted murder."
A beat passes before the room erupts in laughter.
Granny Franny is the master of tension diffusing. I’m merely an apprentice.
"And on that note." Mom says as she stands and collects the empty mugs.
"I best be getting back." Rhys says as he stands too. "Thank you for the tea and the company."
"Thank you for helping get the ship out of the harbor." Granny says as she pulls him down into a hug.
"And for the hosing." I add on and his eyes flash to mine.
"Come anytime!" Delilah nearly yells the first word and I roll my eyes.
"Don't you mean come back anytime?" Rhys asks.
"Nope!" She winks as she hands Rhys the bag full of his muddy clothing.
"C'mon, let's go outside before my family makes any more openly sexual innuendos."
"Oh, ooooh." Rhys says and his cheeks pink slightly.
"Like I said, very open in the Paisley home."
"Clearly."
We get out to the porch and Rhys fiddles with the saddle.
"I'll um, bring the clothes back tomorrow." He says as he pulls on the leg of my sweats.
It is entirely too enticing to see him in my sweats.
The joggers hang off his hips and cling in all the right places.
The sliver of space between the hood of the sweatshirt and his neck catches my attention.
I sort of want to tell him to keep them but that’s preposterous.
Except, he wasn’t uninterested when I got naked earlier.
I wonder. "Instead of coming here would you want to meet at The Pub? "
"Oh, umm. I dunno."
"Right, too public."
"No, it's fine. It’s just, well, I'm supposed to be sulking."
"Supposed to be?"
"Yeah, heartbroken and moping around the highlands like a wayward ghost."
"Supposed to be, as in, you're not?"
"I guess I've found myself a pretty nice serving of fruit salad."
I pause because I know what he's saying but I don't think he knows what it sounds like.
"Are you calling me fruity?"
"Oh god!" He reaches forward and my bicep flexes under his hand before I’ve thought about doing it. "I'm so sorry, no, I didn't mean it like that. I meant it like…"
"I know how you meant it. You also called me pretty."
"Did I?"
"I heard it." I shrug. "But listen, I'm a one night go all out guy. You're on the record, and in your music, as being a relationship guy."
"So?"
"So, I don't want to add to the heartbreak album you're writing." My tongue runs behind my teeth because I’m starting to think it would be a lot of fucking fun to contribute.
"How'd you know I'm writing a heartbreak album?"
"You just confirmed it."
"Geesh, you really are a pirate." His green eyes shine.
"It's in our blood. Anyway, I'm game to hook up if you are but I don't think it's a good idea."
Rhys looks off in the distance for a second before coming back to me. "Yeah, maybe you're right."
"I know I am, you'll fall in love with me and we can't have that."
"No, of course not." He laughs and it is more satisfying than getting a laugh out of my family or my teammates.
"Let's try the pub tomorrow, even if it's a quick stop in."
"Alright, Bonn na Craic, eight o'clock?"
"Good times at the bottom indeed." Rhys says more to himself than me.
With plans made, Rhys gets up on his horse, like a fucking knight even though he’s wearing my sweats, and sways off into the hills.
***
Hours later, our muddied clothes have been washed and are hanging in front of the fire to dry. My parents have gone to bed in the loft upstairs and Delilah and I are nursing the final dregs of our drinks.
"I can't believe Rhys Reid heard dad's lucky mother fucker joke." She shakes her head.
"It's such a good one though."
"It is." I wait because I can tell there's more on her mind. "So, what's going on with you two?"
"Me and Rhys?" I unnecessarily clarify.
Her only response is a look that says "duh."
"Ah, well. I dunno. He's hot, obviously, but I don't think he's a one-time kind of guy. And he's hurting right now. I wouldn't want to hurt him more."
"So no vacation fling for you two?"
"No, it's flirty, but not like that." He’s undeniably attractive but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. "The electric, all consuming attraction isn’t always there."
"But it’s there sometimes?" She leads.
I shrug bashfully instead of going into detail about seeing him stripped down to black briefs with water droplets cascading down his ink covered chest.
"It must be so different for him at home." She ponders.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's a musician right, like I imagine that's a pretty loud job and environment. He lives in Nashville which isn't exactly a small town."
"So?"
"Well, to go from all that then home and be secluded in the quiet castle must be a big change."
"I still don't get it."
She sits up straighter and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, the tumbler balanced between her fingers.
"You know his parents are deaf right?"
"What?" I did not know that.
"Yeah, oh gosh, you didn't know. Well, yeah, his mom was born deaf and his dad has been hard of hearing since he was a child. So it's called the quiet castle because there's rarely music or anything coming from up there."
"But, Rhys isn't?"
"No, the genetic lottery favored him. But I can't imagine what it would have been like to become a musician when your parents couldn't hear it."
"Shit, yeah." My mind buzzes and my stomach drops out.
Neither of my parents played hockey but they got on board with the game as I grew up. My dad would learn from my coaches and help me defend against him. And his lack of shooting ability actually helped me be able to predict random puck trajectories as a defenseman.
My mom was constantly experimenting with ways to get the stink out of my gear. Spraying it with vodka became her favorite method.
But even if some of the vodka went into tonics for her after long weekends of tournaments, I wouldn't have been able to get as far as I have without their support.
I feel a little guilty for only appreciating Rhys for his exterior, as gruff, artistic, and attractive as it is.
Part of my natural ability to be a safe harbor for my friends is understanding what can hurt them and then not letting them get too close to it.
I don’t know exactly what Rhys needs but it’s probably a bad idea to let him get too close to me.
But, what if, what he really needs is a distraction?