Page 22 of Viking Ink

I wanted him—there was no point in denying it—but I’d never betray Rhys’s trust in me. He seemed to have several subconscious soothing mechanisms that set my Daddy radar pinging, and it was going to be hard to ignore them, but I had to—for his sake.

On our walk back from the phone shop, we passed Mick’s Music Shed. The store had a small selection of instruments in the display window, and I saw Rhys’s gaze alight on an acoustic sitting in prime place.

“That looks nice,” I said, having no idea if it was nice or not. I didn’t know much about guitars, only that some were electric and some were acoustic. That was the sum total of my knowledge.

Rhys let out a strangled splutter. “Nice!” He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “That is a Martin LXK2. I’ve wanted one since forever. They’re perfect for busking. Look at that mahogany neck.” Rhys made a dreamy ooh sound, and I had to hold back from laughing at his near love-struck expression when he looked at the guitar.

I looked over at the store’s chalkboard and pointed out the sign “They do lay-away. Now you’re working, you could do that. It would only take you a few weeks.”

Rhys looked pensive. “I suppose. I was going to try and save some money and”— He looked back at the guitar, then to me— “I was going to give you some, you know, for letting me stay, and all you’ve done.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t need or want any money. You’re doing me a favour by staying with me. I hadn’t realised how much I missed having company around the flat. Keep your money and treat yourself, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.” Rhys gave the guitar one last, longing look and then moved to follow me down the street.

We headed up to the flat to put the shopping away. Watching Rhys sitting at my small kitchen table, I couldn’t help but be amazed how right it felt. He gave me a tired smile.

“Are you doing okay?” I wanted to make sure today’s set-to with Constable Shithead hadn’t left him feeling bad.

Rhys leaned on the table, his face resting on his upturned hands. He gave me a wan smile. “I’m okay. I could have gone without dealing with that policeman. He was a bit of an arsehole.” He whispered the last word as if it was naughty for him to say it. I resisted telling him how adorable I found it. Seeing how exhausted he was, I seriously contemplated telling him to stay home and rest, but he sat up, giving me a bright, albeit tired, smile. “So, do I get to see the shop now?”

“Are you up to it? You’ve had a big day already. It’s fine if you want to stay home and chill. I’ll only be an hour or two at most.” I was looking forward to showing Rhys the shop and introducing him to the lads, but I also could see he was flagging.

“No, I want to come. Besides, I’d only end up rattling around up here waiting for you. I want to see the shop and meet your friends.”

I had to love the boy’s tenacity. “All right. Don’t let the boys intimidate you, they are all gruff and no bite—except Mitch. That little shit used to bite a lot as a kid.”

That drew one of those wonderful giggles from Rhys.

“Oh, you think that is funny, do you? I’ve still got a scar on my ar—actually, never mind. He just bit me somewhere that was quite painful,” I said with mock solemnity.

Rhys held his hand to his face, the giggle now erupting into chuckles. “I’m sorry, but why did he bite you in the first place?” He wiped his eyes.

“Mitch was a late life baby for my parents. No one expected him, but they totally doted on the little shit. He’s ten years younger than me, so by the time he was a toddler I was hitting my teens and didn’t have much time for a snotty kid who followed me everywhere. So he decided to get my attention the only way he knew how. Walked up and bit me square on the arse, right in front of my friends and all.”

“Oh, no!”

“It was my own fault. I was a bit of a wanker back then, and Mitch just wanted me to pay him some attention. Thank fuck he grew out of the biting phase.” I shook my head. “Alright, so now you know that delightful story, I think it’s time to introduce you to the guys—are you ready for this?” I grabbed our coats off the hanger, since the afternoon had taken a decided turn for the wet in the short time we’d been back at the flat. I took a closer look at Rhys’s jacket. He was going to need something warmer living here. Perhaps some beanies, and a scarf or two. Maybe I’d suggest doing a spot of online shopping tonight.

Rhys fiddled with his new phone. He’d been amazed by everything you could do on it, and his blue eyes had lit up when I’d shown him how he could browse the internet on it.

“Come here, Rhys. I want to see if this will fit you.” I thought I’d pulled out the old grey and white beanie I had shoved in the cubby hole by the door, but instead I’d pulled out the brown one my brother had bought me as a joke last Christmas. It had fluffy bear ears on the top and eyes on the front. I looked at what I had in my hands and muttered a curse, but before I could shove it back in the cubby hole, Rhys’s slender fingers snagged it from my hands. His eyes glittered with mirth, but also delight.

“A bear beanie! Please can I wear it?” His blue eyes were round with excitement and he was practically bouncing on his feet. It was a joy to see Rhys like this, and my newly held suspicion that Rhys may have a little side was starting to become more solid.

I decided to test the waters, so to speak, lowering my voice to what Mitch and Cal called my Daddy tone.

“If you want to wear this you can. But hold still and let me put it on you.” I watched Rhys’s face carefully and saw the moment his pupils grew, his body going still, waiting patiently for me to put the hat on him. I carefully smoothed the woollen hat over his messy curls, pushing a few out of the way until I was happy with the beanie’s placement. “There’s my perfect little bear cub,” I murmured, standing back. Thankfully, Rhys didn’t catch my slip—he wasn’t mine in any sense, no matter how much I wanted it. “It looks great.”

Rhys’s face lit up “Really?”

“Here, pass me your phone. I’ll take your picture.”

Rhys excitedly handed me his phone, striking a cute pose as I took the photo. I quickly added my number to his phone, texting the photo of Rhys to myself. Rhys smiled, seeing what I was doing, and made a grabby motion with his hands.

“Your turn,” Rhys said as he held up the phone and snapped a picture quickly. He smiled like he’d won the lotto. “Perfect,” was all he said as he pocketed his phone.

I helped him into his jacket.

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