“Okay, what are you thinking?” I ask.
“You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” A grin quirks his full lips. “Well, in my mind, you’re not wearing any clothes and—”
“Rhyson.” I close my eyes, hating the insistent heat flooding my face. “I mean about us . . . talking. What are you thinking?”
“There’s my blush.” He dusts his knuckles across my cheekbone. Despite the eyes I feel on us, I can’t pull back. Finally, his hand falls away. “There’s an orchard that borders the yard out back where the ceremony’s being held. Through that orchard, on the other side, is an old barn.”
“When?” I flick an anxious glance over the small crowd around us, my voice barely reaching a whisper.
“I have all kinds of responsibilities today.” A smile softens the firm line of his mouth. “Best man stuff.”
He shrugs, running a hand through his hair, longer than I’ve ever seen it, falling past his neck, riotous, thick and dark. My fingers itch to get in there, to twist into it.
“So the last thing I have to do is the best man toast.” His words draw my attention from the affair I’m having with his hair in my head. “After that, slip away to the barn.”
My mind catches up to his plan for us to talk. It’s reckless. Foolhardy. Any hint that Rhyson and I are together could set off a salacious fire I won’t be able to put out. Even standing here with him now so close is dangerous. But seeing him, being so close that his familiar scent lures me to lean in, I hurl caution far to the wind. I’ll slip away. I have to.
Before I get the chance to tell him so, Bristol strides over to us, her dark hair up and elegant. Her tall frame sheathed in a dress the same blue as Rhyson’s tie.
“Rhys, we need you.” She doesn’t even look at me or acknowledge my presence. “They want to make sure the piano is still tuned the way you want it. Something about the weather affecting it outdoors.”
“Yeah, I need to check that.” He looks back to me, eyes intent. “I’ll give you a shout out during the song I’m playing.”
I’m used to this by now, so I know he means he’ll tug his ear like he usually does during performances.
“You wrote a song for them?” I ask.
He leans in until his breath touches my ear, until his fingers touch my elbow, so his words can touch my heart.
“No, I wrote a song for you.”
He pulls back, studying the effect his words have on me. I know what he must see. The blush heating my face again. The deep breath lifting my chest. The lashes I drop to hide from him. He sees it all, I’m sure. What he doesn’t see, the only thing I can hide is how my heart twists around inside of me. How anticipation speeds my pulse.
“Rhyson, we need to go.” Bristol looks at me for the first time. “Hey, Kai, thanks for pointing Qwest my way. Hopefully I can hook her up with Grip.”
“Hopefully.” I give her a tentative smile. “She seemed sweet.”
“Sweet?” Bristol lets out a rough laugh. “Not that I noticed, but she doesn’t need to be. Anyway, you’ll have to excuse us. We need to get in there.”
“After the toast.” Rhyson waits for me to confirm.
I nod wordlessly. I’ve barely lost sight of his broad shoulders in the dark, well-tailored jacket when San rejoins me. I just shake my head, warning him not to ask any questions now. We’re ushered through a room where long tables hold wedding gifts. When San and I drop off our gifts, he starts a conversation with a student from one of Grady’s music classes. I’m turning away, about to walk through the French doors into the backyard when a slim, cool hand on my arm stops me.
“Kai, so good to see you again,” Angela Gray says, her eyes disconcertingly similar to Rhyson’s and Bristol’s. “I’m glad you could make it.”
“You are? I mean . . . yes, ma’am.” I lick my lips, hoping I don’t say anything to make her like me less than she did the last time we met. “It’s good to see you again, too. How’s Mr. Gray?”
Angela allows her sculpted brows a tiny frown.
“He had a small setback, or he’d be here today. Open heart surgery recovery can be difficult, and it’s only been a few months, but we found an excellent facility here and have been very pleased.”
“Rhyson mentioned you were moving to LA.” I keep my smile polite. “I hope the transition hasn’t complicated Mr. Gray’s recovery at all?”
“Oh, no.” Angela waves her hand. “Gorgeous weather and finally on better terms with our son, he couldn’t be happier.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“And we’re coming back together as a family,” she says. “Did Rhyson tell you we may be starting family counseling soon?”
“Oh, we haven’t . . .” I reach up to touch the nameplate necklace Rhyson gave me out of habit, but it’s not there, so my hands drop to my sides. “Rhyson and I aren’t together anymore, Mrs. Gray. I thought you knew.”