Page 67 of Enchanted to Meet You

“I did,” he said softly, his playful tone settling into something gentler. He eased off the throttle until the boat dropped into a slow, barely-there idle in the middle of the quiet bay, the water lapping gently against the hull. The engine hummed in the background, a steady, comforting rhythm. “This cottage was always my place with Dad. We didn’t have it with my mom so there’s no part of her here, and whenever he brought me, he was off work time. It was non-negotiable. It was just the two of us up here, even if half the time we were living like absolute savages, eating cereal out of the box for dinner and trying to figure out how to fix the plumbing when the pipes froze.”

“You know, I always wanted a cottage,” I said thoughtfully, “but when you say it like that, it seems a lot less appealing.”

Rhys laughed loudly. “I’d guess not everyone’s experiences were the same as mine. It was a little different since he bought it the summer after my mom left. He told me he, uh, was trying to make it up to me, that my life was changing quite a bit.”

I grinned. “Damn, my mum didn’t buy me a cottage after my dad had an affair.”

“Well, it’s not summer yet,” he pointed out. “Maybe she’s gearing up for it.”

I laughed softly. It was nice to talk about it with somebody who understood. Somebody who would laugh at my jokes, who wouldn’t try to just console me at the wrong times. Talking about it with my siblings had been near impossible. We were all just too close to it, all feeling the same pain. But talking to my friends about it wasn’t possible either because none of them understood. Somehow, Rhys was the perfect medium.

“What was your childhood like?” Rhys asked. “I’d assume the opposite of an only child being raised by a surgeon single-parent.”

I snorted. “Absolutely. Because we were all so close in age, every single day was a full-scale war for territory. We shared everything. Clothes, toys, bedrooms, air space. Sebastian used to kick a muddy soccer ball against the brick garden wall for eight hours straight while Lavender tried to read her books in the corner, and Imogen and I would stage full, elaborate theatrical productions in the tiny upstairs hallway, complete with costumes we stole from Lavender’s closet.”

I looked out over the dark water, the nostalgia warm and heavy in my chest. “It was loud, and someone was always crying or screaming or laughing, but we were a unit. When you have three siblings that close to you, you never really have to look far for a friend. Or an enemy, depending on the day.”

“Must have been nice,” Rhys said quietly, his thumb lightly brushing against the edge of the seat cushion between us. “Having built-in teammates like that.”

“It was,” I murmured. “Although Sebastian was always the ringleader. He was so protective, even when we were little. He used to fight off the neighborhood bullies for Imogen and me, even if the bullies were three years older than him.” I paused, a slight pang hitting my chest as I thought about my brother. “He’s always taken care of us.”

“He’s a good guy.”

I blinked, looking over at him in surprise. “Did you just compliment my brother?”

Rhys let out a dry, reluctant laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t let him know I said it. On the field, he’s a royal pain in my ass, and I want to beat his team into the dirt every single match. But I get why he is the way he is. He’s got three sisters to look after. I’d probably be a protective jerk too.”

My heart softened so fast it felt like an aching sensation spreading through my torso. “He really doesn’t know you, Rhys. None of them do.”

“They know what they need to know,” Rhys said smoothly, shifting his position. “That I’m the guy trying to take their trophy.”

“No,” I said firmly, leaning forward slightly so he could see my face in the dusk. “They only see the competitive jerk on the field. They don’t see... this.”

Rhys went quiet, his eyes searching my face in the dim, purplish light. The breeze caught a strand of his dark hair, blowing it across his forehead. “Maybe I only want you to see this side, Ains.”

My breath caught in my throat, my heart doing a wild, erratic flip against my ribs. The space between us in the boat felt suddenly microscopic. The water lapped softly against the hull, shh-shh-shh, the only sound in the vast, dark stillness of the bay.

A cool breeze blew off the water, sending tendrils of hair around my face. Rhys left his seat to sit in the cushioned bench seat behind us, patting the seat beside him. It only took me two seconds to leave my seat next to the captain’s chair and sit beside him. Another gust of wind had me shivering. Rhys’s head snapped in my direction and he frowned.

“Are you still cold?”

“It’s a little chilly out here at night.”

“It can be.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and tugged me against his chest, the warmth from his body immediately seeping through the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and warming me. The steady thump of his heartbeat was in my ear. Rhys tipped his head back, resting it against the top of the bench, and looked up at the stars smattering the dark night sky. He lifted his other arm to the sky, pointing at a specific cluster. I copied his movement, tipping my head back to find the constellation he was pointing out.

We stayed out on the water for nearly an hour, drifting slowly from one dark inlet to another, Rhys pointing out stars and telling me memories from his time out here. We talked about everything and nothing—our favorite album drops, the absolute worst teachers at our school, our shared hatred of cheap gas station coffee, and the bizarre things our families did during holiday dinners. We laughed until my stomach ached, the cool air filling my lungs, my skin warm beneath his heavy fleece.

Not once did the word fake cross my mind. There was no audience out here in the dark water. No Justin to antagonize, no Kelcey to impress or make jealous. There was no strategy, no script, no performance. It was just Rhys—the real, attentive version of Rhys that he kept protected behind his arrogant athlete persona.

When he finally clicked the throttle forward and navigated the boat back toward the shoreline, the warm lights of the main cottage glowed like a beacon through the dark pine trees. He guided the sleek craft into the dark, shadowed boathouse slip, cutting the engine.

The abrupt silence in the boathouse was heavy, filled only with the smell of motor oil, damp wood, and the cool lake air.

Rhys stood up first, stepping out of the boat onto the carpeted wooden dock. He turned back, stretching his broad hands out toward me in the dim light. “Up you come, girlfriend.”

Instead of just grabbing my hand to balance me, he reached down, placed his large hands firmly around my waist, and lifted me straight out of the boat again. My hands instinctively flew to his broad shoulders to steady myself, my fingers sinking into the soft cotton of his shirt. When he set my feet down on the solid dock planks, he didn’t step back. He didn’t let go of my waist.

I was standing flush against his chest, staring up at him in the shadowy, enclosed space of the boathouse. His hands were warm and heavy against the small of my back, holding me tethered to him, his thumb resting right in the notch above my hip bone. His breath was shallow, puffing small white clouds into the cool night air between our faces.