“You sure push me outside my comfort zone,” I whisper, not realizing until I hear the words that I’m speaking aloud.

“Nothing good ever came from comfort zones,” he counters and leans further into me. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No.” I smile and drag my fingertips down his cheek, and he turns his lips into my palm, closes his eyes and kisses me gently before returning his gaze to mine. “I’m just not very good at this.”

“Good at what, Gabby?”

I swallow. Hard. My breath is coming fast. My heart is pounding. The lightning bugs in my belly are having one hell of a party.

He nudges my nose with his. “Good at what?”

“Flirting. This.” I shake my head. “It’s been a really long time.”

“Good.” He grins and rubs his nose against mine again. His breath smells sweet from a scone he must have eaten before he came in here to find me. And just when I think he’s going to kiss me, and I mean really kiss me, he kisses my forehead and then backs away.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell Sam more stories about last season. He told me about his trip tomorrow.” He tosses me a mischievous smile. “I’m going to have you all to myself for a week.”

“Eight days,” I reply automatically, making his smile widen.

“Eight days. So, I’ll give Sam some attention tonight, and then you’re all mine for eight days.”

I frown and prop my hands on my hips, but inside I’m squealing like a teenager.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re going to exercise that flirty side, sugar.”

And with that, he winks and leaves the kitchen, and I’m left standing in a puddle of lust.

Jesus, what did I just start?

Chapter Four

~Rhys~

She’s a mess of gorgeous chaos.

And the kicker is, you’d never fucking know it. But the struggle is there, behind her smile, in her eyes. I’ve learned her face, and I’ve known her just over a week. She’s beautiful, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to that, but it’s the whole package that has me tied in knots for the first time in… Jesus, I don’t remember. She’s funny, strong, kind. She’s stern with Sam, but loving and affectionate, too, and it’s obvious that the boy simply adores her.

But right now, she’s sad. And it makes my stomach clench.

“Mom, it’s going to be okay.” Sam smiles up at his mom as he slips his baseball cap on his head. “All of the guests are gone, so you won’t need me the rest of the day.”

“Silly boy,” she replies and crouches down next to him, her smile firmly in place. “I need you every day. Not just around here, but because I’ve grown attached to you.” She smacks a kiss on his cheek, making him cringe and look my way, worried that his manliness might be in trouble.

I’d give just about anything to have her lips on me.

I smile at Sam and shrug, as if to say, “Women. What can you do?” Sam rolls his eyes and hugs his mom.

“Nannan will be here soon,” Gabby says, but doesn’t let him go quite yet. “And you’re going to have so much fun.”

“I know,” he replies just as Gabby’s mom pulls into the driveway. Sam and Gabby walk out to the car, and I follow more slowly, staying on the porch as they say goodbye.

“Hello, dawlin’,” Mrs. Boudreaux says with a wide smile. “Are you ready for our adventure, Sam?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam says with a grin then turns and waves at me. “Bye, Mr. Rhys!”

“Have fun,” I reply with a wave and a smile. Goodbyes are said, hugs exchanged, and finally, Sam and his grandmother are pulling out of the driveway. Gabby doesn’t move, watching them drive away, waving with a smile. When the car disappears around the corner, her hand falls at her side and her shoulders droop. She props her hands on her hips and looks to the ground.

Part of me is torn between letting her have her private moment and going to her, wrapping her in my arms, and holding on tight.

Then she kicks a rock, and she looks so damn sad I can’t stand it. I walk down the steps and up behind her, wrap my arms around her shoulders and kiss her head, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. She’s such a small thing, fitting against me perfectly, tucked under my chin. She doesn’t say anything, simply holds onto my arms and sighs, then tips her head way back so she can look into my eyes, upside down.

I automatically kiss her forehead. “Only be gone a week.”

“Eight days,” she replies with a rough whisper.

“But who’s counting?” I murmur and kiss her smooth skin once more before she turns in my arms and hugs me tightly around the middle, the way she did in her kitchen when she felt sorry for me last night. But rather than wanting to comfort, she needs to be comforted.

I’ll gladly sign up for that job any day of the week.

“I feel guilty,” she whispers after a long minute of us standing in the hot Louisiana sun.

“Guilty?” I frown and take her hand, leading her to the shade of the porch, and her favorite swing. But rather than letting her sit beside me, I pull her into my lap and hold her tight.

“I’m not sick, you know,” she says with a smirk. But her eyes say thank you, and she leans against me, tucking herself under my chin.

“I know. Tell me why you feel guilty.”