Page 23 of Wildest Dreams

Regrettably, he looked like he belonged in a Ralph Lauren catalog. The only thing he was missing was a horse and the Hamptons as his backdrop. He wore a chunky gold watch, slim green chinos, and beige sneakers. His man bun was haphazardly tied, the silky strands of pale and dark blond locks begging to be smoothed back.

Grav chose that moment to careen from the hallway, fisting three Barbies by their hair. She football-tackled Rhyland’s legs, slamming into them in a hug. “Uncle Rhyrand!”

His spine snapped straight and he grimaced, physically repulsed. My hackles went up.

“Now, now.” He patted Gravity’s head as if she were a Yorkshire terrier, untying her from his legs. “Ever heard of the term ‘personal space,’ kiddo?”

Oh God. What a jackass.

My sweet bundle of joy peered up at him innocently, her chubby arms still encircling his knees. “No. What’s that?”

“It’s when someone is a soulless ghoul, so they act like a donkey in front of literal toddlers.” I hurried toward them, scooping Grav up and hugging her close to my chest before she got her first rejection. What kind of animal was this rude to a child?

Rhyland appeared undaunted by the daggers of hate I threw his way with my eyes, flipping his brown leather briefcase open. I didn’t even know why he had the damn thing. He was a boyfriend for hire, not a lawyer.

“Hey, kid, I got you something.”

“Oh, I love somethings!” She clapped excitedly. “What is it?”

He produced a stuffie of a white sheep with a pink tutu, face, and ears. Grav wiggled out of my hands, rushing toward the stuffie and hugging it to her chest.

“Aw, I love it!”

“Does that mean you’re going to get rid of Mr. Mushroom?” he enquired.

“No!” she said cheerfully. “I love Mr. Mushroom.”

“I’m sure Mommy does too.”

I swatted his shoulder, grateful for the chance to touch him. No doubt I needed to stock up on good vibrators and some Jade West books to spice up my life. I mean, I propositioned the man within my first twenty minutes in New York. After he humiliated me when I was eighteen.

“And there’s something else.” Rhyland reached for his briefcase again, producing a small puzzle. “It’s a twenty-piece puzzle of your face. Do you like it?”

“Yes!” Grav pumped the air with her fist.

“Good. Go do it somewhere else and give Mommy and Uncle Rhyland some privacy,” he said flatly, tossing the puzzle at her, again as if she were playing fetch.

I tried to tame my visceral reaction to how cold and offhanded he was with my daughter, despite buying her gifts. He had just fixed my car. Grav ran back to her room with the puzzle, and I forced myself to turn to him with a tight smile.

“Thank you for her gifts.”

He threw a dismissive hand between us. “I needed her out of our hair for the next few minutes.”

“Do you always keep photos of other people’s children lying around in case you need to make a puzzle out of them?”

“I got it off your Instagram.” Rhyland gave me an amused, unbothered look. “And if it makes you feel any better, my online assistant made it into a puzzle, not me.”

“Online because people can’t stand you in person?” I batted my eyelashes.

“Online because I tend to fuck any woman I spend more than a couple hours a week with.”

Gross. We were going to kill each other. It was only a matter of time.

“What do you want?” I snarled.

“We need to look legit. Marshall wants to spend time together, get to know me.” He made quotation marks with his fingers before splaying his hands on the breakfast nook between us, and I noticed, despite his impeccable suit, that his hands were rough and tanned, worn out from physical work. “We both know what happens once people start getting to know the real me.”

“You’re insufferable.” I nodded. Finally, something we could agree on.

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