Page 106 of Surprisingly Us

I glance to the other side of the street, expecting to see my apartment building but instead it’s the walkway leading to the Seventy-Ninth Street Boat Basin.

“I wanted to go home,” I announce, but Rhys starts leading me toward the dock.

“This was easier. And you shouldn’t be alone like this.”

“Like what, Rhys?” I raise my arms in challenge, nearly sending my clutch flying into the Hudson. “Enraged? Incensed? Horny?”

Probably could have left that last one off.

“It’s not because of you. That’s the alcohol talking. You know, champagne goggles and all that.”

“It’s beer goggles. Not champagne goggles.”

My eyes flare at his audacity to correct me. He lifts his hands in surrender.

I could order a ride share, haul it back to my apartment and let Rhys have a peaceful night. He might like that. Guess I better ruin his night like he’s ruined mine.

I start down the dock, but with unsteady legs on top of these heels, Rhys’s hands move into place to guide me.

“I don’t need you to help me. I can walk by myself,” I say before nearly crashing into the railing on the side of the dock.

“Sure,” he mutters right before his large hands encircle my waist and he steers me in the opposite direction I was going.

“You know what, Rhys? For a guy who sprang a fake proposal on his fake girlfriend and she—I—said yes to save your butt, I don’t appreciate your tone.” I take another step but it’s as unsteady as my last. For a professional dancer I’ve got zero body control. “It’s the heels. They’re impossible to walk in.”

He slings me over his shoulder so he can remove my heels, then carries me the rest of the way to his boat. A minute later, he sets me onto a cushioned seat in the breakfast nook then gets a glass of water from the kitchen and hands it to me.

“Drink.”

“Bossy much?”

“You’re going to feel like shit if you don’t.”

I sulk at the table and drink my water. When I lift the glass to my lips, the ring shifts on my finger.

It doesn’t feel real.

That’s because it isn’t.

Rhys smacks two ibuprofen onto the table beside my glass. “Take these.”

My attempt at sassily mimicking his bossy tone becomes muddled under my breath. His brows lift with authority, and I stick out my tongue at him. But I do take the ibuprofen because I don’t want to feel bad tomorrow and if anyone knows about post-drinking remedies it would be Rhys.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then let’s get you to bed.”

I contort my arms to reach for the zipper of my dress but have no luck. Rhys steps in behind me, his fingers easily releasing the zipper down my back. The warmth from his finger pad gliding down my spine makes me shiver. He’s helped me unzip my dress before, but tonight feels different.

That clench from the car ride is back. Every nerve ending is on high alert.

It’s like my body doesn’t understand that Rhys is enemy number one right now.

I don’t bother to turn around, but simply drop my dress and step out of it. I’m used to being half naked in form-fitting tights and leotards and the alcohol has made me care even less.

I have zero fucks left to give.

---