CHAPTER SIX
RHYS
Raucous laughter rises from a table in the back where a couple of members of the Reapers Wolves MC are enjoying their beer and a game of darts. Checking my phone again for the time, I shake my head and sigh, taking a long drag of the bottle in front of me.
“Expecting someone?” Austin asks from behind the bar. It’s a Thursday night at The Ole Aces with customers busy searching for greasy food and alcohol, and I should be home relaxing after a hard day’s work, preferably with Willow by my side.
“Just King, but he’s late. I’m guessing he got caught up with Hannah.” Which I can’t blame him for. If Willow were free tonight, I’d choose to be with her rather than agreeing to hang with King to discuss custom wedding bands for him and his bride.
Austin laughs. “Bet you’re right… I envy him.
A good woman can be hard to find.” Especially when you’ve got a face like mine.
He doesn’t say the words aloud, but they hang in the air nonetheless.
During his time in the military, an explosion left him with severe burns that forced him out of active duty.
The visible scars on his face aren’t pretty, and I’m guessing the women of his acquaintance have made it abundantly clear to him that it’s an issue.
Superficial bitches.
“The right one will come along if that’s what you want. You’re a good man.”
“Like a woman will come along for you, too? How’s that app working out? King mentioned it to me the other day, but I told him if he signed me up, I’d ban him from the bar.”
Memories of my night with Willow heat my blood. I can almost taste the sugary sweetness of her mouth still. And the fucking dreams I’ve had… My cock hardens remembering this morning’s scene where Willow woke me with her soft mouth.
Too bad you had to make do with your hand when you woke up.
“Well, I met someone. I’m just not sure it’ll work out.
She’s all about romantic lovey dovey shit, and I’m not.
” Though that didn’t exactly stop us from making out like a couple of teens.
It required all of my strength to pull away and let her go home instead of snatching her up in my arms and hauling her back to my cabin.
“I forgot about your issue with love. Why is that anyway?”
“Because he’s lived in Suitor’s Crossing for too long,” King interjects as he plops onto the bar stool next to mine. “Sorry, I’m late. Had to help Hannah with something.”
Snorting, I imagine what he had to help his fiance with was something along the lines of what I’d like to do with Willow—fuck her luscious curves into exhaustion.
Austin slides a fresh bottle of beer King’s way before asking, “What’s living in Suitor’s Crossing have to do with anything? This town’s all about love.”
“And that’s the problem.” King tips the lip of his bottle toward Austin. “Rhys here has become too cynical due to being surrounded by heart sparks constantly, instead of going the logical way and trusting in its power.”
“If tonight’s gonna turn into psychoanalyzing me, then I’m gonna head home where I can live in peace.”
“And quiet.”
“Cold and alone,” Austin adds, grinning with King.
“Both of you are ridiculous.” Shaking my head at their ribbing, I change the subject, bombarding King with a litany of questions before he has a chance to continue in his current vein.
“Are you ready to go over ring designs? Will I get more than a few weeks to complete these, or will it be another rush job?”
He takes the hint and launches into his ideas for the wedding bands while Austin retreats to fill other customer orders. Thank fuck. I’ve never been grilled so much about my relationship status or thoughts on love until now.
Fucking heart sparks.
***
WILLOW: Just finished with another bride and about to grab lunch with Luna. How about you?
Unable to resist a stupid grin from forming on my face at the Harry Potter Luna meme she sent, I fill her in on my latest project before asking if she’d like to have dinner together tonight. It’s been a few days since our date, and I’m starved for my girl—an unexpected position to be in.
I’ve never felt this drive to be near someone as much as I do with Willow. Somehow she’s become a hive of honeyed goodness, and I’m the bee buzzing merrily in her direction, powerless to refuse her call.
WILLOW: Works for me! My place at 7? Carrot would like to meet you. ;)
A swift chuckle follows the pronouncement, imagining an orange fluffball cozied up in Willow’s arms.
ME: Sounds good, kitten. See you and Carrot then.
The afternoon flies by after our conversation as a calm settles over me while melding pieces of an ornate gate together.
Everything feels right in this moment. I’ve got a successful career I enjoy and a woman I could see myself spending forever with.
Hell, I’m even starting to think I’d be willing to entertain her ideas of love if it means keeping her—a huge fucking step for me.
Of course, wariness and doubt remain in the back of my mind, since love and heart sparks are fickle things.
She could say she loves me only to turn around and change her mind.
Willow’s not Mom.
A distinction I understand logically, but what do I really know about her? What I’ve seen so far I’m obsessed with, but maybe that’s just a first date facade. Maybe that’s not who Willow really is.
The possibility plagues my thoughts until I knock on Willow’s apartment door a few hours later.
When she opens the door with a beaming smile, my worry evaporates like morning dew under the sun, and conviction grows in my heart—she’s the real deal.
Genuine and sweet. Not a disingenuous bone in her curvy little body.
My mind should require more proof, yet it agrees with everything my gut’s telling me.
“Come in!” Willow waves me inside where warmth immediately envelops me along with the scent of steak. “Would you like something to drink?”
Damn, I should’ve offered to bring wine or something.
Or flowers. But it slipped my mind amidst all of my concerns about a serious relationship with Willow, not to mention my inexperience when it comes to proper dating protocol.
Usually things never progress to the point where the knowledge is necessary.
Because flowers or candy are unnecessary when you’re just fucking?
I sound like an asshole.
A sliver of shame twists in my gut, and I wonder if King didn’t have a point when he accused me of being the problem instead of the women I dated. Maybe I’ve been taking this whole avoidance of love and romance thing too far when all I really needed to do was be open-minded and use common sense.
It feels like I’m on the verge of realizing something important—life-altering—until the train of thought is lost because of a purring cat at my feet. Lowering to my haunches, I smooth a palm down its silky fur, eliciting an even louder purr of contentment.
“He likes you.” Willow bends down to scratch behind the feline’s ears. “Carrot, this is Rhys. Rhys, Carrot.” Her formal introduction of us is adorable, and I can’t help wrapping a hand behind her neck and tugging her close enough so my lips can brush across hers.
“Thanks for the intro, kitten. I like him, too. Do you need help with anything in the kitchen?” Perhaps I can make up for not bringing anything as an offering.
“Nope, I’m good. Just relax while I plate our food.”
Studying Willow’s home, it’s obvious she wasn’t kidding when she listed the top three priorities in her life: working with brides, Carrot, and reading.
Bookshelves line one wall, some shelves dipping under the weight of colorful titles, and I make a note to come back to reinforce them before they completely fail.
Photos of her and Carrot grace several spots around the room along with group shots with her friends.
Her personality is written into the space—an undeniable expression of Willow.
“You’ve got a nice place,” I say, moving toward the dining table once I see she has everything set for dinner.
“Thanks! It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. Growing up, we moved around a lot, so it kind of felt like a waste of time to hang pictures and personalize a place,” she explains while cutting her steak into manageable pieces.
The spread before us is way more than I expected but definitely appreciated.
Thick steaks, baked potatoes, corn on the cob—a smorgasbord of comfort food awaits me, a home-cooked meal like I haven’t had in ages.
“Why’d your family move so much?” I’m curious about her parents and their relationship. She said they weren’t the model couple on our first date, but what exactly did that mean?
“My dad was a campaign consultant. We were always traveling to his next candidate’s county or state to help them win their election.
It didn’t matter how big or small it was either.
” Willow chews slowly, a resigned look shadowing her usually optimistic features.
“That’s a lot of elections and a lot of uprooting our lives. ”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Reaching across the table, I squeeze her fisted hand. “Did you have siblings to ease the burden of starting over so often?”
“A younger brother, Jacob. He followed in Dad’s footsteps, so I hardly see him anymore. My family and I aren’t super close, which is why I love Suitor’s Crossing. Everyone declares you family once you’re accepted into the fold.”
She’s right. While we have a couple small town cliques, for the most part we accept people into the community as long as they’re friendly. And sometimes when they’re not, I admit to myself, remembering the times I’ve dismissed an invitation or ignored a phone call.
Geez, I really have been an asshole.
I don’t think I realized how much of an impact my mom’s leaving had on me outside of romantic relationships. Sure, I’m not the most outgoing guy, but have I really distanced myself from the people of my hometown because of a misguided belief they’d turn on me? Abandon me?