Page 38 of Revenge Brunch and Other Disasters

She narrowed her eyes. “You planned this.”

Rhys tilted his head. “Who, me?”

Later That Evening

After Rhys’s mom offered Linda heirloom earrings, after the family slideshow mysteriously included a Photoshopped engagement photo of the two of them in a field of wildflowers (which neither of them hadevervisited), and after three separate people asked for the wedding date, after Sir Stumps-a-Lot was mistaken for the ring bearer…

Linda found herself on the patio, wine glass in hand, questioning every decision she’d ever made. Alone.

The patio lights twinkled. Her wine was too warm. Her dignity was teetering on the edge of a sandal heel.

Rhys found her leaning against the porch railing, sipping with the energy of a woman preparing to fake her own death.

“Your family is terrifying,” she said, eyes still on the dark lawn. “Did you know your grandmother offered me a goat?”

Rhys leaned on the railing beside her. “She likes you.”

“I gathered. Now I either marry you or commitsocial goat theft.”

“She said it was a dairy goat. You’d be set for cottagecore if things go south.”

Linda groaned into her wine. “This is getting out of hand.”

“You’re doing great.”

She gave him a long look. “You’re so smug.”

He didn’t smirk, not this time. He just looked at her. Calm. Soft. Like she was something worth studying.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re annoyed.”

Linda’s heart skipped. Actually skipped. Like a kid on a playground. She snorted, nervously. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say things like that. It makes this feel…”

“Real?” His voice was quiet now. Private.

Linda stared at him. Her fingers tightened around the glass stem.

“Dangerous,” she said.

There was a beat. The party sounds drifted behind them. Sir Stumps-a-Lot snored audibly from his little cushion on the patio swing, completely unbothered by the emotional minefield happening nearby.

Then—Rhys stepped forward.

Just a little. Just enough.

His handsstayed in his pockets. He didn’t touch her. But the air between them shifted. Close now. Too close to be just fake.

“You want to keep pretending?” he asked, low.

Linda nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.

Rhys smiled. But it wasn’t smug. It wasn’t cocky.

It wastender.

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