Rhys leaned on the railing, his arm brushing mine. “Then why are you trying to impress the guy? You got money to tide you over while you find another job.”

I looked at him, startled to find his face so close. His proximity afforded me the opportunity to study his eyes. There was a ring of light golden brown around the inner iris that I’d never noticed before. The vivid pale green of the outer iris swam into the golden brown, so startling you could never call them hazel.

Mossy green, I thought.

A beautiful mossy green.

And naturally soulful too. A woman could fall into those eyes if she wasn’t careful.

With a sigh, I looked out at the water. “Because I love my job. It’s an important job and it’s everything I’ve worked for. My family wanted me to join their fancy law firm in New York and I refused because this is what I wanted to do. And I hate disappointing my family. That’s how much I want this job.”

“So we put up with him.”

I wrinkled my nose. “He doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

Rhys shrugged. “We’re trying to impress the guy. I’m not going to be outright rude to him even when he’s being a prick.”

I jumped on that. “You think he’s a p-r-i-c-k?”

He threw me that boyish grin as he gestured behind us. “I think they’re all pricks—if you sound out your words, Tinker Bell, you’ll get there eventually.”

I rolled my eyes and decided to ignore that. “Well, that’s not fair. About them being pri—nkles. You don’t know them.”

“Let’s be clear.” He turned toward me. “I didn’t call them prinkles. That sounds like something you put on a fucking cupcake. And I know enough about these people to know most of them are pricks.” A hint of bitterness laced his words.

“If you think these are ‘my people,’ you must think I’m a prinkle too.”

Rhys smirked. “Do I think you’d taste nice on a cupcake? Yeah, I fucking do.”

Determined not to laugh at his teasing in case it encouraged him, I fought a smile and shook my head at him like he was a naughty schoolboy. This just seemed to delight him more.

“Truthfully,” he said, nudging me with his arm, “what’s with the schoolmarm, no-cussing thing?”

My amusement died. “It’s not a thing. I just don’t like curse words.”

“You’re a grown woman, denying herself the right to a gratifying ‘fuck’ every now and then. That ain’t right.”

I blushed at the lurid images that suddenly filled my head.

“Dirty Tinker Bell,” he tutted, grinning, “I wasn’t talking about that kind of ‘fuck’ but —”

“Argh.” I pressed a finger to his lips to stop him from saying anything that might make me want to punch him and melt all over him in equal measure. The man had way too much sexual charisma for it to be fair. “Stop.”

His lips twitched against my finger, and I instantly dropped my arm.

“If you must know, my mother hates curse words.” I smoothed my hands down my dress and turned back toward the party, thinking of how miserable events like this made me and always had. Much to my mother’s chagrin. “She’s a complicated woman. This is a woman who marched with over one hundred thousand men and women on Washington in 1977 in ninety-five-degree heat to demand an extension on ratifying the Equal Rights Amendment.” I was extremely proud she did that. “But this is the same woman who has very specific ideas about men and women. She believes in our equal rights and she believes a woman can do anything a man can do, career-wise. She does not, however, have a problem with a man cursing but believes for a woman to do so is extremely unladylike.”

Rhys shrugged. “Again, you’re a grown woman. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

That’s what everyone said out loud, but I had to believe I wasn’t the only one who could still be reduced to childlike status by my parents. I loved my mom and dad. They’d given me a lot of opportunities in life and they loved me. It was in my nature to people-please, especially my parents, so denying them anything was hard. And I’d denied them a lot over the years.

“I’ve disappointed them,” I admitted. “My parents. In different ways.” I flicked Rhys a look and found him watching me, curiosity in his gaze. I glanced away and gave the party a breezy smile. “The least I can do is keep my mouth clean for my mom.” I chuckled but was desperately searching for a passing waiter with a tray of ten champagne flutes I could divest him of.

“If that’s true, why do I need to keep my mouth clean?”

Thinking about it, I had no answer. Perhaps her distaste had become my distaste, but truthfully, I was growing used to Rhys’s cursing. It was just who he was. And it wasn’t as if I was ever going to introduce my cussing fake boyfriend to my mother. I didn’t want my parents to know I’d stooped to lying to make my career happen, and I didn’t want to lie to them and get their hopes up that I’d found someone I was serious about.