Page 11 of Wild Side
I grin at him, and he grins back. Because heknows. He’s been flower picking with me plenty of times. Edible toppers, tea flavoring, a splash of color on the bistro tables. I guess you could say I’m big on flowers.
The rattle of a car driving past draws my attention, but it’s not the vehicle that keeps it. It’s the scruffy, foreboding mountain of a man standing on the sidewalk at the edge of my property glaring at us.
Rhys Dupris.
The man whose full name has been haunting me since I read it on that will. He looks miserable and delicious all at once. Thatseems to be his brand. And I hate that I see him that way at all. I just can’t seem to help myself.
We stare at each other for a few beats as my stomach sinks down into my toes, dread coursing through my veins. I had planned to make my plea, to use lawyers and tug on some shred of empathy this man might possess to reconsider taking Milo away. Because everything with that will checks out.
But the scowl on his face isn’t promising. He looks downright pissed off.
“I had no idea you were coming today,” I blurt, still kneeling on the damp ground, completely caught off guard.
“I know,” he rumbles in that impossibly low timbre. It’s a voice that could make a girl’s toes curl, but in this instance, all it does is make me feel intentionally put on the spot. Judged. Like he expected to pop out from behind a bush and catch me doing something untoward.
Nah, all this man does is get my back up.
Which is why my jaw drops when my nephew’s body tenses, and his bare feet pitch up onto tippy-toes as hesquealsin the sweetest, most sugary voice, “Ree!”
I’m so shocked by his familiarity that I almost let him toddle off and take our poor caterpillar along for the ride. “Milo, honey. Let’s put the caterpillar back on the tree.”
I reach for his arm and guide him back to the trunk. He’s vibrating with excitement, and I tell myself that’s why my hands shake as I aid him in carefully returning the bug to its home.
But the minute the caterpillar latches itself onto the bark, Milo turns and races across the grass, launching himself at Rhys. He takes a flying fucking leap. As though he knows in his bones that Rhys will catch him. As though heknowshim.
I find it confusing. I find it hard to watch.
So I clench my jaw and keep my gaze on the lawn as I push to standing, brushing at the knees of my jeans. I sigh in defeat when I realize there are grass stains on the light denim.
Of course I have to look likethiswhen he shows up. No bra. Grass-stained knees. Messy hair that smells like cake because it’s full of dry shampoo. Dark circles under my eyes that match the old-ass blue sweater I threw on this morning.
I suppose the win is that today I don’t reek of scotch.
Small fucking victories.
Still, I refuse to cower in his presence. I shimmy my shoulders and stand taller, crossing my arms and tipping my nose up like I’m the queen of something more than this partially updated craftsman and a semi-successful small-town restaurant.
I watch them. Rhys has Milo in his arms, the small boy nestled against his side with his tiny head resting on a massive shoulder.
It should be cute.
Instead, it makes my stomach clench and pulse as though my heart has dropped right down into the pit of it.
My only hope in hell with this entire shit show was to make Rhys see that Milo loves me, and his grandparents, and this town. And that we all love him too. Erika may not be here anymore, but Milo is well loved.
And yet, only a fool could witness the tender way this man rests his cheek against Milo’s, taking a deep whiff of the little boy’s hair before letting his eyes flutter shut, and still think he doesn’t love him in some way too.
“Missed you, little man,” he grumbles gruffly before lifting his head to meet my watery eyes. Then he nods in my direction. “Tabitha.”
“Tabby Cat!” Milo wiggles in Rhys’s arms before reaching for me, signaling he wants to be let down. But Rhys looks shakensomehow. His eyes narrow on me, and his nostrils flare and contract. Like a bull about to charge.
“I wanna go down,” Milo clarifies. “Show you my caterpillar!”
Rhys gently places him down on the sidewalk, eyes not straying from mine as his powerful body unfurls.
Milo takes him by the hand and tugs him in my direction. My heart rate accelerates as they approach.
“Right here.” Milo points at the bug’s yellow and black body, and I stand as still as the tree as he regurgitates the information I just shared with him about the species. It’s only made more adorable by the confidence with which he mispronounces things.
