Chapter 19 #2
Not once did the word fake cross my mind.
There was no audience out here in the dark water.
No Justin to antagonize, no Kelcey to impress or make jealous.
There was no strategy, no script, no performance.
It was just Rhys—the real, attentive version of Rhys that he kept protected behind his arrogant athlete persona.
When he finally clicked the throttle forward and navigated the boat back toward the shoreline, the warm lights of the main cottage glowed like a beacon through the dark pine trees. He guided the sleek craft into the dark, shadowed boathouse slip, cutting the engine.
The abrupt silence in the boathouse was heavy, filled only with the smell of motor oil, damp wood, and the cool lake air.
Rhys stood up first, stepping out of the boat onto the carpeted wooden dock. He turned back, stretching his broad hands out toward me in the dim light. “Up you come, girlfriend.”
Instead of just grabbing my hand to balance me, he reached down, placed his large hands firmly around my waist, and lifted me straight out of the boat again.
My hands instinctively flew to his broad shoulders to steady myself, my fingers sinking into the soft cotton of his shirt.
When he set my feet down on the solid dock planks, he didn’t step back. He didn’t let go of my waist.
I was standing flush against his chest, staring up at him in the shadowy, enclosed space of the boathouse.
His hands were warm and heavy against the small of my back, holding me tethered to him, his thumb resting right in the notch above my hip bone.
His breath was shallow, puffing small white clouds into the cool night air between our faces.
“Ainsley,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low, gravelly and raw in the quiet space.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought he must be able to hear it.
He tilted his head down, his eyes dropping to my lips before locking back onto mine.
He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, so close that if I leaned forward just a fraction of an inch, our lips would touch.
My hands shifted from his shoulders, my fingers curling into the fabric at the back of his neck.
And then the overhead boathouse fluorescent light clicked on with a harsh, buzzing hum, blinding us in a sudden glare.
“Oops! Oh my gosh, sorry!” Kelcey’s voice rang out from the boathouse door, dripping with exaggerated shock. “Didn’t mean to interrupt! I totally didn’t realize you guys were... busy down here.”
I stumbled backward instantly, my hands dropping from Rhys’s neck as my face burned with a furious, nuclear heat. I nearly tripped over a coiled yellow boat line on the dock, but Rhys’s hand shot out, catching my elbow to steady me before pulling me behind his side.
His jaw was clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently near his ear. He turned a slow, deadly glare toward the wooden staircase.
“We were just putting the boat away, Kelcey,” Rhys said, his tone icy enough to freeze the lake solid.
“Of course you were,” she smiled, her dark eyes sharp as needles as she looked between my flushed face and Rhys’s rigid, defensive posture.
She leaned against the wooden doorway, taking her sweet time.
“Your dad sent me down to tell you we’re having hot chocolate around the fireplace before everyone goes to bed. First night tradition, remember?”
The last words were said mockingly. A muscle in Rhy’s jaw twitched but he didn’t rise to the bait.
“We’ll be right up.”
“Great,” Kelcey purred, giving me one last lingering, knowing look before turning on her heel and walking back up the stairs, her flip-flops slapping loudly against the wood.
I buried my face in the oversized, extra-long sleeves of Rhys’s hoodie, desperate to hide the burning shame on my face. “I am going to dissolve into the floorboards,” I groaned, my voice muffled by the fleece. “That was awful.”
“Hey,” Rhys muttered softly. He reached out, his hands gently pulling my wrists away from my face until I had to look at him.
His eyes were searching mine, full of a protective focus that made my breath hitch.
“Don’t do that. She did it on purpose because she saw how good we were doing. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
“She thinks we were making out,” I whispered. I knew that was for the best, that it was the way to make this all seem real. But I still felt mortified.
“So let her think it,” Rhys said softly, his thumb gently stroking the inner skin of my wrist before he let go. “Let’s get you inside before you actually freeze to death.”
Back up at the main house, the stone fireplace in the great room was roaring, casting a flickering, orange light over the dark wood paneling and the high cathedral ceilings. The air inside smelled heavenly—smoky wood mixed with the rich scent of warm cocoa.
As soon as we walked through the back glass doors, Marcus emerged from the kitchen area holding a large stainless-steel saucepan and a wooden spoon.
“There you two are,” Marcus said warmly, his face lighting up when he saw us. “Could one of you give me a hand carrying the mugs in?”
“I’ll help,” I volunteered immediately. I needed a minute to get my head on straight.
I followed him into the kitchen where he poured the hot chocolate into a tray of mismatched ceramic mugs and carried them out to the living room, where everyone was gathering around the roaring stone fire and the wide rug, but without even thinking about it, my eyes immediately found Rhys.
He was already sitting on the wide leather sofa, leaning back against the plush cushions with his long legs stretched out in front of him.
The second I walked over carrying the tray, he shifted over to the side, tapping the empty spot next to him.
I set the tray on the coffee table and sank into the soft leather beside him, cradling my warm mug between both hands.
He casually stretched his long arm along the back of the sofa behind me, his fingers resting lightly against my shoulder, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles against my sweater.
“Here,” Justin said, tossing a worn box of Settlers of Catan onto the rustic coffee table with a clatter. “Leah says she’s going to crush everyone tonight, so I feel obligated to put her in her place.”
“In your dreams, Justin!” Leah shot back, dropping onto the rug near the fire with her knees pulled into her chest. “I’m taking all the wood tiles on turn one and building a wall around your entire settlement!”
As the board game began and the room filled with the comfortable noise of cheerful arguing, dice rolling against the wooden table, and the steady crackle of the wood fire, my phone buzzed in the deep pocket of Rhys’s oversized hoodie.
I pulled it out discreetly under the edge of the fleece blanket Rhys had tossed over my lap.
Sebastian
How’s Clementine’s cottage? Did you guys make it up okay? Mum wants to make sure you didn’t forget your retainer.
My thumb hovered over the glowing screen.
A heavy, familiar pang of guilt twisted deep in my stomach.
I was lying to my family. My entire family believed I was thirty miles away, sitting quietly on a modest dock with Clementine, eating store-bought cookies.
If Sebastian found out I was here—in the home of his fiercest soccer rival, sleeping under his roof, wearing his hoodie, falling head-over-heels for him—he would feel utterly, completely betrayed.
I looked up from my phone screen. Across the table, Rhys was currently engaged in a heated, hilariously dramatic negotiation with his dad over a sheep trade, his eyes sparkling with laughter, his sharp smile completely relaxed and real.
None of my family knew this version of him. To Sebastian, Lavender, and Imogen, Rhys Montgomery was just the arrogant, ruthless team captain who had elbowed Sebastian in the ribs during the regional finals last year and talked trash in the locker rooms.
They wouldn’t understand. Not yet.
I typed back quickly, my fingers moving fast over the keys:
Ainsley
Made it safe! Clem’s place is great, super quiet. Got my retainer in my bag.
Tell Mum to stop worrying!
See you Monday xx
I hit send, locked the screen, and slipped the phone back into the pocket of Rhys’s hoodie, shoving the lingering guilt down into the dark corners of my mind.
“Your turn,” Rhys whispered, his warm breath fanning softly against my ear as he leaned down. His fingers lightly squeezed my shoulder through the heavy fleece blanket. “Are we trading our brick to my dad or letting him starve?”
I looked up at him, meeting his dark, fond gaze, and let out a soft, effortless laugh.
“We’re letting him starve,” I said firmly.
Rhys’s deep laugh boomed through the warm, firelit room, and as I took another sip of hot chocolate, I let myself sink completely into the magic of the weekend, pretending—just for tonight—that this was entirely real.