Page 68 of My Grape Crush
Rhys and I have come together so quickly. What do I know about him, aside from what he reveals on Instagram? A peek into the journal mind of the least attainable man on Earth could reveal so much. The air in the room shifts, suddenly charged, as if the journal itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what I do.
I reach for it, the pad of my finger skimming the soft leather.
Just one quick look…
“Hey, Dani,” Rhys calls out.
I snatch my hand away a millisecond before he appears in the doorway. Red-faced with guilt, my heart hammering in both ears, the pressure in my chest eases when I realize he's on the phone. It's pressed against his shoulder to muffle his question from whomever he’s talking to.
“Yes?” The word squeaks out.
“Do you need anything from the drugstore?” he asks.
“Who are you talking to?”
“The taxi company,” he whispers back.
My eyes widen with the realization. “You’re havingthembuy condoms?”
He smiles shyly and shrugs. His eyes are bright as the day. “It saves me from having to go out. And I’m happy to pay a premium for 911 delivery.”
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.If Gail finds out about this, I’ll never hear the end of it. Next, she’ll accuse Rhys of orchestrating orgies with the locals.
“Is that okay?” Rhys asks, low-voiced, clocking the concern written all over my face. “I can blast into town with your truck instead if you want.”
Jesus. I can see it now. The bustling Saturday morning drugstore with the local peanut gallery weighing in on the giant box of Ultra-thins and Rhys bouncing from foot to foot, eager to have the cashier ring up the purchase.
“No, the taxi is fine,” I say. “I’ll text the security guy at the gate. That way the driver can breeze in without the third degree.”
I insisted the security company provide the contact details of every guard as part of the control process to keep the lines of communication open. And so far, no hiccups. Our hired-by-the-hour muscle men have kept the fans at bay. But I don’t trust them to keep tight-lipped when the friendly neighborhood taxi driver rolls up and jokes about condoms coming in hot.
Rhys blows me a smooch and U-turns back into the kitchen. I hear him pouring on the charm over the phone, offering a tidy bonus for expedited delivery.
Me? My focus drills back onto his journal.
I like to think I have morals and standards, but I’ve already told him one tiny white lie. About how long I’ve been a follower of his. Will he even care once I tell him the truth? If anything, he might find my pathetic crush kind of sweet.
But snooping is a lie compounded.
And betraying trust is a slippery slope. Carrie Bradshaw fromSex in the Cityonce ripped into her boyfriend’s secret box, convinced he was withholding something, and that relationship bit the dust.
Rhys has said and done nothing to warrant such an intrusion. And, I remind myself, he is the antithesis of Brett. Rhys is not an inhumane lizard of foulness. And maybe this can be more than a summer fling, so why jam a fledgling us under a microscope and look for cracks before we’re fully formed?
Enough already!My my inner voice blasts.Enjoy the moment without second-guessing everything.
Relationships flourish with trust, patience, effort, and, most importantly, time.
And my bubble of positivity shrinks just a little, because time is the one thing Rhys and I don’t have.
Chapter Twenty-Two
RHYS
How doI describe the most amazing sex of my life? The list virtually writes itself: Life-altering. Seventh heaven. Better than oxygen.
Dani is all killer, no filler.
No wonder I’m humming like a love-struck fool.
