Page 35 of Thrown

He actually made good time on the way home. The trip went by in a blur, but astoundingly, there was less traffic than there had been on the way out. Or perhaps the journey to Staffordshire had felt more difficult because he’d had Toby sitting in the seat next to him and all of his tumultuous, frustrated thoughts about the man swirling in the small space.

He still had tumultuous thoughts, but they were of an entirely different sort now.

He still wanted Toby. It was embarrassing but true. Toby was brash, rude, and obnoxious more often than not. But Toby was also confident and sure of himself, things Robbie wasn’t. He had ambition, which Robbie knew he lacked as well. Toby had started from nothing and made something of himself. Robbie had started with everything and had fallen short in so many ways.

By the time Robbie drove up the long, private, family drive to Hawthorne House and parked his car, he felt considerably better in body, but still terrible emotionally. He sat in his car for a few minutes after cutting the engine before he finally worked up the nerve to get out, grab his bag, and head back into the family nest.

“Robbie. You’re back,” Rhys met him coming out of his flat in the central hallway of the family wing as Robbie reached the top of the stairs. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” Robbie sent him a sour look as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder and tried to head straight to his flat at the end of the hall.

Rhys turned to follow him as Robbie passed. “How did it go?” he asked, his eyes a little too bright and his smile teasing.

“Fine,” Robbie said with a sigh. He wasn’t going to get out of talking to his brother. The problem with living on a family compound, even if the house had been converted to give them all the appearance of independence and their own flats, was that family was always in your business.

“Just fine?” Rhys followed him down the hall, his grin more annoying by the moment. “You look a little worse for wear for it all to have been justfine.”

Robbie stopped in front of his door and fished for his key in his coat pocket. “Filming went well,” he said, telling his brother what he wanted to hear. “The crew of The Ceramics Challenge are great. I learned a lot on the set. There are some people doing some amazing work out there. It was fine.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhys said, leaning against the wall beside Robbie’s door and crossing his arms. “How did things go with Toby?”

Robbie nearly dropped his keys. He narrowed his eyes at Rhys. His earlier suspicion that Rebecca had had something to do with the one hotel room expanded to wondering if his entire family was in on some sort of matchmaking plot.

“What about Toby?” he asked confrontationally.

Rhys wasn’t stupid. He shrugged one shoulder and said, “The two of you have been dancing around each other for two weeks now. Whenever you’re in the same room, it’s like an electrical storm is about to break.”

“That’s because we hate each other,” Robbie said, even though it was a lie.

He jammed his key into the lock, then shoved open his door.

Rhys, of course, followed him into his flat.

“You don’t hate each other,” Rhys called him out. “You’re hot for each other, and you both hate that.”

Robbie threw his bag down on the recliner halfway across his flat’s main room, then turned to glare at Rhys. “I had no idea my love life, or the lack thereof, was family gossip.”

Rhys’s posture softened with a little bit of contrition, but not enough. “We’re all worried about you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Keith really did a number on you, and everything’s been hard since Raina’s accident.”

“All of which I can cope with,” Robbie said, heading to his open kitchen to fill the kettle. He needed a tea just then like junkies needed a fix.

“We all cope together,” Rhys said with a nod. “But then Dad hired Toby, and the two of you obviously get under each other’s skin. Which I think is a good thing. Getting under someone’s skin is a sure sign that there’s something worth pursuing there.”

“What, like Early is always getting under your skin?” Robbie threw back at him as he reached for the tin where he kept his tea.

Rhys’s expression darkened. “Workplace relationships are a bad idea. And anyhow, this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”

“If workplace relationships are such a bad idea, then why are you throwing me at Toby? He works for us.” Robbie threw a tea bag into one of his mugs.

“Temporarily,” Rhys stressed. “And anyhow, you’re missing the point. You and Toby have something going on between you.”

“And you and Early don’t?” Robbie grinned, grateful that he’d found something that would turn Rhys off of the conversation and make him go away.

“Early is too young,” Rhys said. “And you have a hickie on your neck.”

Robbie slapped a hand to his neck, eyes going wide. He pushed away from the kitchen in search of the nearest mirror, which was all the way in his bathroom.

When he looked, nothing was there. But when he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to throttle his brother, Rhys wore the cheekiest grin Robbie had ever seen.

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