Page 66 of Enchanted to Meet You

Rhys reached the door, unlatched the heavy black handle, and pushed it open, stepping back to let me inside. I stepped over the threshold and stopped dead in my tracks, my jaw practically dropping.

“A gym?” I asked, spinning around in a circle. The place wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to fit some machines, a rack of dumbbells, a bench, and some rolled out yoga mats. The floor was covered in thick, heavy-duty black gym matting.

“It used to be a bunkie,” Rhys said. “The old owners of the cottage had a bunch of grandkids so it was just bunk-beds, but since we’re all athletes, we decided to turn it into this instead.”

“This is insane, Rhys,” I said, walking over to the glass wall. The view from here was breathtaking—you could sit on the rowing machine and look straight out over the open water as the sun hit the waves. “My family has a rusty treadmill in our basement that we use to hang laundry on.”

Rhys grinned. “Well, we can’t start slacking on our gym routines now. Don’t you want to keep showing off to Kelcey how many times I can lift you?”

I laughed as I remembered that first gym visit, which felt like forever ago now, when he’d bench pressed me like I weighed nothing. Clearly remembering the same moment, Rhys came up behind me and softly put his hands on my hips as he murmured in my ear, “Should we try again? I bet I can beat my record.”

My breath caught in my throat and my heart thudded. For a long, heart-stopping second, neither of us moved. The sound of the wind outside rustling the pine branches seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the feeling of Rhys’s warm hands on me.

He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a stray lock of hair that had fallen in my face, tucking it tenderly behind my ear. His hand lingered against the side of my neck, his thumb resting right over my thumping pulse.

“Ainsley,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I⁠—”

“RHYSSSSS! AINSLEY! DINNER!” Leah’s shrill voice echoed across the property from the top deck, shattering the moment like glass.

Rhys froze, letting out a soft, breathy curse against his breath. He gently his forehead lightly against my shoulder, before pulling back. The heat of his touch left my skin lingering, cold and tingling in the lake breeze.

He gave me a small, crooked smile that looked a little raw around the edges.

“Duty calls,” he said softly, offering me his hand once more. “Let’s go eat some chicken before Leah eats it all.”

I took his hand, my mind spinning, my chest tight, and my heart completely, utterly ruined. As we walked out of the gym and back up the stone path toward the house, one terrifying thought echoed through my mind, louder than the wind, louder than the waves:

This wasn’t fake anymore. Not for me. And maybe—just maybe—not for him either.

nineteen

Once the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher and the parents retreated inside to start a pot of coffee, Rhys caught my eye from across the kitchen island and gestured with a subtle tilt of his chin toward the path leading down to the dock.

The temperature was dropping fast and the lake water looked almost black, so smooth under the dark sky. I crossed my arms and shivered, wishing I hadn’t ditched my sweater upstairs and only worn a T-shirt down.

“What are we doing?” I asked as Rhys led me across the dock. But the answer became obvious in seconds as he hopped into the motorboat that was bobbing along beside it.

“It’s my favorite time of day to go out,” Rhys told me. “Almost nobody else does. Hop in.”

I’d never been in a motorboat before, and my brain was unhelpfully filling in visions of me somehow falling between the boat and the dock, getting trapped underwater, and drowning. I hovered on the edge of the dock, trying to convince myself that I could step in no problem.

Apparently, Rhys had experience with dealing with this, because he didn’t even bother trying to talk me through it—without a word, he wrapped an arm around my waist and lifted me in before I even had the chance to ask what he was doing.

“Rhys!” I whispered, although I wasn’t sure if I was admonishing him or thanking him. He just grinned in response, and put me down in the seat next to his at the front of the boat.

He flipped a switch on the dash, and the engine purred to life with a deep, throaty rumble that vibrated right through the floorboards and into my chest. He unhooked the dock lines, untied us from the heavy iron cleats, and backed the boat smoothly out of the dark boathouse slip into the open water of the bay.

“It’s freezing down here,” I said, shiver-laughing as I crossed my arms over my thin white top, my shoulders curling inward.

“Hold on, don’t freeze on me yet,” Rhys said. He let go of the wheel just long enough to wrestle off his grey fleece hoodie and hand it out to me.. “Put this on.”

I took it eagerly, telling myself it was simply because I was cold and not because I wanted to wear something of his. The sweatshirt was oversized and smelling heavily of his usual sandalwood and laundry, but it mingled with the scent of smoke, like he’d worn it to a campfire. I swallowed myself whole inside it, the cuffs hanging way past my wrists, instantly cocooning me in his lingering warmth.

The wind whipped through my loose hair as we accelerated, the lake opening up around us in a vast, mirror-like expanse. The sky was a breathtaking gradient of deep violet, bruised indigo, and swirling inky darkness, reflected perfectly on the black surface of the water. Rhys drove with one hand casually resting on the top of the steering wheel, his green eyes scanning the horizon as he pointed out landmarks with his free hand while we cruised past dark, silent islands.

“You see that rock face over there? The one jutting out past the pine cluster?” he asked, leaning toward me slightly so his voice carried over the low hum of the engine. “I broke my collarbone jumping off those rocks when I was twelve. I thought I was invincible. My dad almost had a heart attack trying to haul my useless body into the canoe while I was screaming my head off.” He grinned, the wind pushing his hair back from his forehead, exposing the sharp, handsome lines of his face. “And over on that tiny island with the single cottage? Landon and I tried to build a raft out of drift logs and duct tape when we were fourteen. It sank about three feet off the shore. We had to swim back towing a waterlogged lawn chair.”

I laughed, the sound carrying out over the empty water as I leaned my head back against the vinyl headrest. “It sounds like you had an entire childhood out here.”