Page 42 of Wild Side
“And I have to convince everyone around me that I am madly in love with you and just had to be married this instant?”
Rhys shrugs.
“That’s it? A shrug?”
“I mean, is that so unbelievable?”
“Everyone thinks we hate each other, so… yes?”
“Why would they think that? I’ve never told anyone that I hate you.”
“I mean, it’s obvious.”
His head quirks. “Is it? What have I ever done that makes you think I hate you?”
My breathing goes heavier as I think it over. Sure, there was some distrust at the beginning, but the more I think about it, the more I can’t think of a single thing.
“Do people think you hateme?” I could swear there’s a little teasing in his tone.
Heat suffuses my cheeks and crawls down my throat, flashing across my chest like a big fatguiltysign. “Only Rosie and Skylar. I’ve been vague about our relationship with everyone else. But it’s not like we’ve been”—I wave my hand around frantically—“I don’t know, traipsing around town together.”
Rhys just lifts one shoulder and drops it. He’s so casual. It’s impossible to read him. “Then I guess we better sell it.”
My pink flush turns red.
Sell it.
I don’t know what that means, and I’m too chickenshit to ask. The thought of Rhys touching me freely sends an unwelcome thrill down my spine.
His hands on my skin. His tongue in my mouth.
I shake my head.
Nah. Even if we have to kiss, there will be no tongue. It’s completely unnecessary. We can keep it chaste. Neither one of us is mushy or touchy-feely. No one will think twice about us keeping a cool two feet apart at all times.Right?
I want to ask, but don’t want him to get annoyed and take the offer back. For Milo, I need this. For me, though? This could be a disaster.
Either way, it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
So, for what feels like the billionth time in the past couple of months, I just stand and stare at Rhys while he stares back. His attention is almost suffocating.
Until…
Meow.
Rhys’s chin drops slowly, the look in his eye going from reserved to pissed off as his attention lowers.
The tabby cat with four white paws and a little white tip on her tail that Milo and I chose from the shelter waltzes into the kitchen like she’s the queen of this house. She weaves herself between Rhys’s legs, bunting along his jeans.
I swear she’spurring.
“Surprise?” I say, feeling less sure of my payback for the alarm system now that Rhys is marrying me as a favor.
“What the fuck is that?”
“A cat. Her name is Cleocatra.”
“Why?”
