Текст книги "Easy Charm"

Автор книги: Kristen Proby

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Two

~Gabby~

“Challenge accepted,” I mimic after Rhys closes the door behind him. What is up with all of the damn testosterone-flexing men in my life?

And Rhys has more testosterone to fling around than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s super tall, I’d say just a couple inches shorter than my brothers’ six-foot-four, which puts him more than a foot taller than me. His eyes aren’t simply green. They’re bright  green, giving the grass a run for its money.

If grass had money.

I punch my fist into the bowl of dough.

As if the eyes weren’t enough, he has that damn cocky half-smile thing working for him that I’m sure reduces most mortal women into a puddle of goo at his feet.

Not this woman.

I mean, sure, he’s hot, and when he tucked my hair behind my ear, just the brush of his fingertips sent heat searing down my spine.

But that’s just because I don’t even remember the last time a man that I wasn’t related to touched me.

And that’s just damn sad.

“More like pathetic,” I mutter and give the dough another punch before covering it and setting it aside to rise.

And this morning at breakfast, he devoured my biscuits and gravy, that sexy, square jaw flexing as he chewed, and he listened to Sam. He didn’t just indulge him and pretend to be interested in what he was saying, he was interested. He’s polite and sweet and sets my libido on fire.

And now I have a sexy, single man living under my roof for God knows how long, being nice to my son, tucking my hair behind my ear, and I’m going to die from sexual frustration.

Because there’s no way I’m having sex with Rhys O’Shaughnessy.

Not that he’s likely to ask me. This is the famous baseball player we’re talking about. He probably has a piece of tail in every city.

And damn if the feminist in me isn’t more than a little pissed that I called them a piece of tail.

I laugh at myself and wander through the empty inn. It’s rarely empty these days, which is great for business, and my own sanity. Between the inn and Sam, my days are full, so when I finally fall into bed at night, I sleep hard.

There’s not time for anything else in my life.

Especially not a sexy athlete with a killer smile and muscular arms.

Of course I noticed his muscles. I’m alive, aren’t I?

I glance around, content that the work is caught up for now, I walk out onto the front porch, and slide into my favorite swing. Both swings on either side of the front door are identical, but this one has always been my favorite. It has the best view of the trees, and it’s where I do my best thinking.

But my eyes are so damn heavy.

So, I curl my feet under me, brace my face in my hand and close my eyes. Just for a minute.

It’s hot today, but the row of oaks provides a nice breeze. I can smell the roses, fully bloomed and reaching for the sun, in the back yard. I should get up and make sure the two rooms I’m expecting guests for are to my standards. I should order more complimentary soaps and lotions.

I should reply to the email I received this morning that sent my heart into my throat. It’s not like me to ignore someone, or to not face conflict head-on, but my gut says to leave it be.

For now.

Besides, the breeze is lovely, blowing through my hair to my neck, over my face, and the blue jays are calling back and forth.

So for just a few minutes, I’ll rest my eyes and enjoy the quiet.

***

“Gabs?”

I jolt awake and sit up straight, and there in front of me is my oldest brother, and my best friend, Beau.

“You’re home early,” I say and stretch my arms over my head.

“It’s Friday,” he replies with a shrug. “And Eli’s the workaholic, not me.”

I grin and pat the swing next to me. “Sit.”

Like all of my siblings, Beau is tall and dark, with the same hazel eyes as the rest of us. He’s strong. Calm. He’s been my rock for as long as I can remember. And despite being ten years older than me, he’s the one I’ve always felt closest to.

Which is saying a lot because the Boudreaux family is a close one in general. Mama and Papa saw to that.

“I haven’t seen you sleep during the day since you were a kid,” he says as he lowers his tall frame next to me and rests his arm on the back of the swing. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reply immediately. “It was just a rare, quiet moment and my eyes got heavy.”

He peers at me closely, narrows his eyes, and tilts his head.

“What’s on your mind, baby girl?”

He knows me too well.

“Nothing.” I shrug innocently. “What do I have to complain about? Aside from the fact that you still live in my back yard, despite me being twenty-seven and able to fend for myself. You seriously need a woman.”

“We aren’t talking about me.”

“Maybe we should talk about you,” I reply and turn in my seat to face him. “You don’t have to stay here to babysit me, you know.”

“I like being here,” he replies calmly. “It’s a good place.”

“It’s a bitch of a commute to work for you every day.”

“It’s a good place,” he repeats. “I also don’t like the idea of you and Sam out here by yourselves.”

“I can—”

“Yes, I know you can take care of the both of you. You’re one of the strongest people I know, but damn it, it gives us all peace of mind to have me nearby.” His jaw clenches, the only sign that he’s good and irritated with me, so I lean over and kiss his cheek.

“I love you, you know.”

“You’d try the patience of the Dalai Lama.”

“He’s pretty patient,” I reply. “Maybe a different llama.”

Beau laughs and shakes his head at me.

“Hey,” I say casually. “The last you heard, was Colby still living in San Francisco?”

The smile vanishes from Beau’s face, and he leans closer to me. “Has he contacted you?”

“No,” I lie. “I’m just curious.”

He searches my face, and finally says, “Yes, he’s still in San Francisco.”

I nod, relieved.

“If he contacts you, I want to know,” Beau says.

“He signed his rights away,” I remind him. “What would he want with me?”

“I know, I was there,” he replies grimly. “Promise me that you’ll tell me if he contacts you.”

God, I hate lying to my brother. But nothing has really happened, and there’s no need to worry anyone.

Besides, I can take care of myself!

“Fine.”

“Promise me, damn it.”

“Okay, I promise, geez. You should have been an interrogator or something.”

I move to stand, but he grips my arm and pulls me back.

“I’m serious, Gabs. You haven’t asked about him in seven years. Not since the day Sam was born. Why now?”

“Because I just wanted to make sure there were still several states separating us. That’s all.”

Just then, Rhys pulls in with Sam, who climbs from the car quickly, running toward me.

“Hey, buddy!” I call as he climbs the stairs.

“Hi Mom! Hi Uncle Beau!” He hugs us both, then turns to me, practically bouncing with excitement. “Mom! Guess what?”

“Slow down. Did you have fun?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you have a good lunch?” I glance up as Rhys joins us on the porch, that half-smile on his impossibly handsome face. He leans his hip against the railing and crosses his arms over his chest and my mind just… empties.

Damn hot man.

“Yes, ma’am, I had a shrimp po’ boy for lunch.”

“Good. Rhys, have you met my brother, Beau?”

The two men nod at each other as Sam frowns, still quivering with excitement and impatient to share his news.

“We met at the office,” Beau replies.

“Mom, I have something really important to tell you.”

“Okay, I’m all ears. Shoot.”

“So, um…” He shifts his weight from side to side, his big brown eyes on mine, and I feel my heart tug, just a bit. This perfect little boy is mine. I made this. Amazing. “Miss Kate has a friend at work who has a dog—”

Uh oh.

“And the dog had puppies—”

Of course it did. Tramp dog.

“And Miss Kate said that if it’s okay with you, she’ll buy me one for my birthday next month. It’ll be an early present!”

His eyes are so full of excitement and hope.

“Buddy, you know that sometimes we have guests who stay here who are allergic to animals.”

And I just killed the light in my own kid’s eyes.

Mother of the freaking year, right here.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What kind of dog is it?” I ask wearily and hear Beau chuckle beside me, which earns him an elbow to the ribs.

“They’re hounds,” Rhys replies with a grin. “Short hair, mild-mannered, not chewers.”

I narrow my eyes at him, as if to say, “Whose side are you on?”

“Yeah, they’re not chewers,” Sam repeats triumphantly. “Like, not at all. And I’ll clean up after it. And it can sleep with me, and we won’t let it in the guest rooms so they won’t be allergic, and I promise it’ll be the best thing in the whole world!”

“Hmm. The whole world, huh?”

He nods and holds his breath, then takes my face in his sweet, sweaty little hands and leans his forehead to mine. “Please, Mama?”

“Will you teach it to play fetch?”

He nods.

“Will you teach it to go potty outside?”

More enthusiastic nods.

“Will you give me lots of hugs and kisses?”

He smiles, the hope in his giving way to elation and jumps into my arms, wraps his little arms around my neck and holds on tight before kissing my cheek.

Twice.

Without acting like he’s going to catch cooties from it.

“A puppy is a lot of responsibility,” I say sternly. “And a lot of work.”

“I’m a hard worker, just like you,” he says, knowing full-well he’s buttering me up.

Beau smirks beside me, and I elbow his ribs again.

Just because it’s fun.

“Okay, I’ll call Miss Kate and tell her that you can have the puppy.”

“Yes!” He jumps in the air and does his version of the happy dance, fist bumps Beau and Rhys and hugs me again. “You’re the best mom in the history of moms.”

“That’s what you say to all the moms,” I reply, but bury my nose in his hair and breathe him in, just for a minute.

My baby is getting big.

“Nope, just you.”

“Okay, let’s get ready for our guests this evening. I need to make dinner, too. Beau, are you joining us?”

“What are you making?” he asks.

“Pork chops, asparagus and red beans and rice.”

“Mama’s red beans and rice?”

“She’s the one who taught me to make them,” I reply and shake my head.

“I’m there,” Beau says.

“Me too,” Sam says, as if he has a choice. I raise a brow at Rhys. His face is sober, but his green eyes are still full of humor.

“And you, Mr. O’Shaughnessy?”

“I’m in.”

“Well then, I’d better get started.”

***

“Darling, this inn is just amazing.” I smile at the sweet Mrs. Baker and fill her wine glass with more wine. “Ethel described it perfectly to me. I’m so happy that she convinced Carl and me to come here.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you, ma’am,” I reply. This is my favorite time of day. The guests have returned to the inn from their adventures during the day. Some retire to their rooms to relax. Some sit outside and soak up the bayou. And some sit in the drawing room, sip wine, and chat.

Rhys, much to my surprise, decided to come down and chat with the guests. Despite being a guest himself, I couldn’t talk him into leaving the dishes for me to do after dinner. He jumped in and helped as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And now he’s chatting baseball with Carl Baker. Sam is sitting at their feet, his eyes bouncing between them as they talk about innings and sliders and things that I really don’t understand.

Because in my world, baseball is boring. But I will go to every game that Sam ever plays and I will love it.

Because I love him.

“Sam.” I lean down and speak softly into his ear. “It’s time for bed, buddy.”

“But we’re talking about baseball. Man to man.”

“Yes, I see, and I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for one of these men to go to sleep. And you’re the only one with a bedtime.”

“Carl has a bedtime too,” Mrs. Baker says with a giggle and sips more wine.

“Mom, this is important stuff.”

“So is bed. I mean it. I won’t say it again.”

He sighs heavily and stands. “Don’t say anymore important stuff without me.”

“Deal.” Rhys ruffles his hair. “Sleep well, kiddo.”

“Good night.”

Sam shuffles to the door that leads to our private quarters, then turns back.

“Mom! I forgot to tell you!”

“Tell me what?” I cross my arms and settle in for the battle of getting my kid to bed. He’s fought bedtime since infancy.

The little monster.

“Um.” He scrunches up his nose, thinking really hard. “Uncle Eli said to tell you hello today.”

“Okay, now you’ve told me. Good night.”

“’Night,” Sam replies and leaves the room, then pops his head back through the doorway. “Mom?”

“Yes.”

Rhys covers his smile with his hand and pretends to text on his phone.

“Did you call Miss Kate yet?”

“I’ll call her tomorrow.” He nods and leaves, but then his forehead and eyes reappear. “You’re killing me, son.”

“Will you tuck me in?” he asks with a small voice.

“Go get your jammies on, brush the hair off your teeth and climb in bed and I’ll be there soon to tuck you in.”

He nods and leaves for real this time with a sigh.

“He’s a handful,” I mutter. “There’s a reason why they’re born adorable and smelling good. Because otherwise they wouldn’t make it past the toddler stage.”

“He’s just worried that he’s going to miss something good,” Mr. Baker says. “And I’m sure he’s excited to have his favorite player staying here.”

“True,” I reply and check the scones and cookies before leaving the room to see to my boy, who is already in bed, in his jammies, but the teeth brushing is questionable. “Did you brush?”

“My toothbrush is wet.”

I smirk. “That doesn’t mean you brushed your teeth.”

He smiles angelically, and I sit at his hip and tuck him under the covers. “I love you, my sweet baby boy.”

“Love you too.” His eyes are already heavy. He’s like me, in that he runs and runs all day, and when he lays his head down, he falls asleep quickly. “Thank you for the puppy.”

“You won’t be thanking me when you’re cleaning up his poop.”

He giggles at the mention of poop, and I kiss his cheek, then his forehead.

“Good night.”

His eyes are already closed when I leave the room, his door cracked, with the hall light shining the way he likes it.

Everyone has left the drawing room, retiring for the night. I can hear some footsteps upstairs, and low murmuring voices, but I’m alone for the rest of the night.

Thank goodness.

I wander into the kitchen and place a slice of the leftover peach pie on a plate and carry it out to the front porch, once again taking my favorite seat. I leave the lights off, comfortable in the dark of the bayou, and watch the lightning bugs as they flit through the trees.

“I thought I heard you come out here,” Rhys says as he steps outside, holding two wine glasses.

“I’m sorry, I thought everyone had gone up. Did you need anything?”

He’s shaking his head before I can stand up. “No, I’m fine. Thought you could use a glass of this.”

He passes me a cold glass of my favorite wine. “How did you know I like this one?”

“Because it’s in your fridge, and not in the one available for guests.”

“And yet you got in it.” I raise a brow and take a sip. The sweet wine complements the pie well.

Rhys simply shrugs and sips his own wine. “That pie is awesome.”

“Yeah, I was following my heart and it led me to the fridge.”

He laughs and I have to grip firmly onto my fork as chills run up my arm.

This man is potent. Sexy.

So damn sexy.

I finish my pie and set the plate on the ground, then settle back with my wine as Rhys leans his hips on the railing, facing me. I can barely see his face in the dark.

“What do you think of Louisiana so far?” I ask.

“It’s beautiful. Hot.”

“It is hot,” I agree.

“This porch is nice and cool.”

“It’s the trees.”

“May I?” he asks and points at the swing next to me.

“Sure.”

“What do you mean, it’s the trees?” he asks and leans his arm across the back, much like Beau did this afternoon. I’m acutely aware of Rhys’s fingertips brushing my shoulder and sending zings down through my nipples.

Damn nipples.

“The trees were planted hundreds of years ago, before the house was even a thought,” I reply, trying to maintain my professionalism. I can repeat this speech all day.

And often do.

“It’s not clear if they were planted with the plan of a home being here at the end of them, but what we do know is that they form a wind tunnel. The Mississippi is right over that levy.” I point straight ahead. “The wind flows right through these massive trees, and onto the property, providing the world’s first air conditioning.

“So, my ancestors would open the doors and windows, and let the cool air through. But thankfully, we’ve since added the electric AC.” I glance over at Rhys, able to see his face now, and feel the smile leave my face at the sight of his deep green eyes watching me.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Gabby.”

I frown and glance down but murmur, “Thank you.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” I reply and turn my gaze back to him. “I come from beautiful people. Strong people.”

He nods. “You’re certainly that too. This place is impressive.”

That makes me grin. “Thank you.”

He picks a piece of my hair off my shoulder and lazily twirls it around his fingers.

“How long have you lived here?” he asks.

“All my life.”

He raises a brow, prompting me to continue.

“We lived in the city during the school year, then came here in the summers. After Daddy died, and Mama wanted to stay in the city all year, it made sense for me to stay here and turn this into an inn. I’ve always seen it like this.”

“Where is Sam’s dad?” he asks. Not rudely, and not with any judgment in the question. If any of that were in his voice, I’d tell him to go to hell.

Instead, I answer with, “Gone.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Since the moment I told him I was pregnant.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“His loss.”

“Fuck yes, it’s his loss.”

I whirl my head, surprised by the anger in his voice. He drops my hair, then buries his whole hand in it at the back of my neck and lets it sift through his fingers, and nothing has felt so good in… a very long time.

“He let you and Sam go. He’s an idiot.”

“We were young.”

“He’s an idiot.” He repeats the motion, pulling my hair through his fingers, and I want to purr. “You have beautiful hair.”

“Thank you.”

“So let’s finish our conversation from this morning.”

I frown. “What conversation?”

He chuckles. “You’re not stupid, Gabby. Let’s talk about what was bothering you enough to beat the shit out of some innocent cinnamon rolls.”

I bite my lip and turn my face away, but he catches my chin in his fingers and turns me back to him.

“I’m fine,” I say firmly.

“Does anyone ever call you out on that bullshit?” He’s not angry now; he’s calm as can be, still pulling my hair lazily through his fingers, calling me a freaking liar.

“It’s not bullshit. I am fine.”

“You’re more than fine. You’re damn beautiful.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He grins, that sexy as hell half-smile that makes me squirm in my seat.

“Look, you don’t know me. You just got here. You can’t possibly know that I had anything on my mind this morning.” I swallow hard as his hand rests on my neck and begins to gently massage my tired muscles.

“I don’t know you,” he agrees, “yet. But I can see when a person is worried or upset, and you were worried this morning.”

“You know, I don’t need a man to waltz in here and solve my problems.”

“What do you need a man for?” he asks with mischief in those green eyes.

“I need a man who won’t become a problem,” I reply softly. Because that’s the God’s truth.

He swallows and watches his hand massage my neck. “I can understand that.”

“Good.”

“So are you going to talk about it?”

I simply laugh because this is ridiculous. I’m sitting out here, in the dark, with the hottest man I’ve seen in… ever, and he won’t take a simple no for an answer.

“Let’s just say that sometimes the past comes back around to bite you in the ass.”

“I’d like to bite your ass,” he says casually. My eyes widen and my heartbeat speeds up, but before I can respond to his declaration, he continues. “And if anyone has done anything to hurt you, I’ll kill them.”

“No one has done anything.” My voice sounds shaky to my own ears. Rhys pulls my face toward his again and pins me in his gaze.

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

He nods. “Okay then.”

“I should go to bed. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You have an early morning every day,” he replies, and if I’m not mistaken, there is concern in his voice.

“Not on Mondays. I don’t keep guests Sunday nights, so I can catch up a bit around here, have dinner with the family, and sleep in on Monday. So, FYI, you’ll have to fend for yourself Monday morning for breakfast.”

“I can handle that. Why don’t you hire more staff?”

“Because I don’t need more staff. I have the girls who come clean for me every day. I can handle the rest myself.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to.”

“It’s my inn.”

“Your family is beyond wealthy, Gabby. You could afford to have more staff so you don’t have to work yourself and your son to the bone.”

I blink rapidly, push his hand off my neck, and stand to face him.

“Yes, my family is wealthy, but this inn is mine. If and when I need more help, I’ll hire it, but I don’t right now. And if you have a problem with how I’m raising my son—”

“Hey, calm down. I didn’t say that I have a problem with how you’re raising Sam. In fact, your kid is awesome.”

Yeah, try to dig yourself out of your hole.

“Except I’m clearly abusing him by expecting him to have chores and pay for things he breaks.”

“That kid is not abused by any stretch of the imagination, and teaching him a work ethic is a good thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you insulted me back there.”

“No, I’m worried about you.”

And now I’m irritated all over again.

“I don’t need you to worry about me. You’re a guest. Just enjoy the inn and don’t give me another thought.”

“Impossible,” he mutters and rubs his hand over his mouth. The rough sound of his skin on his whiskers is loud in the quiet of the evening, and my own hand itches to touch him there.

To touch him everywhere.

Which means I need to get the hell out of here.

“Is there anything else you need?”

He watches me for a beat, then shakes his head. “No, Gabby, there’s nothing else I need.”

I nod. “Good night.”