Page 111 of Wild Side
“Good god,” Rosie laughs the words out as she gawks at me.
“What?” I feel my cheeks heat instantly as West and Skylar look my way. Rhys turns, and I feel his gaze lick down my side profile.
“You two are like…” Rosie waves both hands over us with a flustered expression on her face. “I don’t know. An energy.”
West giggles, and from the corner of my eye, I see Skylar subtly elbow him. Rhys’s full lips twitch, and I slice him a glare before turning back to Rosie. “What is with everyone and energy right now?”
“Gwen,” she says, lifting her wineglass and pointing my way.
Of course.
I deflect the conversation with, “Is she coming tonight?”
“I invited her, but apparently she’s helping Clyde up at his cabin?”
Ford walks in with a scrunched brow and carrying a plate of grilled skewers. “Hi, everyone. A show of hands if you think we should go rescue Gwen after dinner.”
West’s hand shoots up, and Rhys just laughs, but Skylar is curious. “What is she doing up there? Isn’t it kind of remote?”
Rosie shrugs. “I don’t know. It sounds like he’s having some health issues, and she’s helping around his place. Bash might know more.”
My lips flatten. Based on Bash’s reaction to her recently, I somehow doubt that. But hey, what do I know?
From there, conversation flows freely, and I relax into the evening. Rhys is never far, and even while he eats, there’s contact. It ranges from knees tipped together beneath the counter to his big hand massaging my shoulder.
Which should feel good, except it makes me uncomfortably horny.
The food is delicious, the setting is homey, and the company can’t be beat. And for the first time since Erika’s death, I’m happy.
The guys talk about bowling, and I settle into a happy, relaxed buzz. Only when Rhys says he won’t be able to meet them for an extra practice on the weekend do I pay closer attention.
Partly because, deep down, I don’t want him to leave again. And partly because West asks, “Are you ever gonna tell us what your job is? It keeps me awake at night.”
I jump in, ready to keep the story the same as what I told my parents. It seems simple. “He’s a stunt?—”
“I’m a professional wrestler.”
My head shoots in my husband’s direction, and my jaw drops open.
“Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.” West holds up both hands with a look of astonished excitement on his face. “Like a WPW type of thing?”
Rhys takes a sip of his wine, eyes darting to mine. “Yeah, actually WPW.”
“Holy fuck, that’s so cool.”
Skylar nods with wide eyes. “Agreed. And I can totally see it!”
I’m still in shock that he said it out loud when West adds, “What’s your wrestler name? I’m going to watch now. Cora, you watch, right?”
One glance at Ford, and I see him zeroed in on the couch behind us. Rhys turns to look—just in time for Cora to turn the color of the world’s ripest cherry.
She stares at Rhys, her gaze dropping to the sleeve of black tattoos that scroll up one arm. Then she mutters, “Fuck my life,” and leaves the living room without looking up from the floor.
“Is she okay?” Rhys sounds genuinely concerned.
“You don’t happen to be Wild Side, do you?” Ford asks from where he’s leaned against the counter with crossed arms.
“I…” There’s a nervousness in Rhys’s gaze as he glances at me. “Am?”
