Jackson and I shared a weary look.

We were all just flies caught in Fairchild’s net. Trapped by his whims.

My boss turned his attention to Rhys. “It looks like you’ve made quite an impression on Franklin.”

Yes, Jackson knew exactly what this “team-bonding” trip was all about.

“Lucky fucking me,” Rhys bit out.

I winced. “Easton, Jackson, I need a word with Rhys.”

My sister threw me a concerned look, her earlier amusement gone now that she’d been witness to the tension with Fairchild. However, like Jackson, she murmured her assent and they left us alone in the foyer.

“You don’t have to do it,” I said. “My job is not worth it.”

Rhys’s gaze softened. “You are a contradiction, you know that, Tinker Bell?”

Uh, what did he say earlier? Pot meet kettle. “How am I the contradiction in this scenario?”

He didn’t answer. His expression grew taut. “I shouldn’t have acted how I did or said what I said. I’m apologizing. It won’t happen again. Now, you’re paying me to help you keep this job, so we’re going to that lodge. Fairchild can bug me all he wants while we’re there about getting in that ring. Doesn’t mean I’m going to.”

“But—”

“It’s cool, okay?” He sighed. Heavily. “Can we get the fuck out of here?”

Yes. Although I did not look forward to the car ride home with Rhys, I really, really wanted to leave. “Let’s go.”

He frowned. “We’re not saying goodbye to your parents?”

I blanched at the thought of having to lie again to their faces. “Uh, no.”

And just like that, Rhys’s expression shut down. “Right,” he muttered, as if he’d tasted something bad.

Confused, I could do nothing but follow him as he marched out of the house to collect his car.

He didn’t say a word to me the entire drive back to Boston.

Not one word.

His anger toward me was obvious.

The reason for it, not so much.

My irritation grew as we neared the city.

And when I got out of his car, I slammed the door so hard, his car shuddered. I heard him cursing behind the wheel.

Smirking with a small kind of satisfaction, I hurried into my apartment building. Yet my satisfaction died as soon as I got in the elevator and replayed the last few hours.

Easton’s words from earlier rang in my ears.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” I murmured.

Fifteen

Rhys

There was nothing worse than being stuck on a plane next to a woman determined to give you the cold shoulder. Oh, I deserved it. There wasn’t any doubt. Yes, I’d been disappointed in Parker’s clear horror over her family thinking she was dating me. But instead of shutting down, I’d been a dick in return—a huge, massive dick. I was ashamed of myself.

Thing was, I couldn’t actually say what I wanted to say while stuffed into a seat that was about ten sizes too small for my frame and surrounded by dozens of other passengers practically on top of me. I knew Parker well enough to realize she’d be mortified if I talked about her personal life in front of strangers.

So, I waited, all the while acutely aware of Parker at my side. Aware of the way she smelled—like smoky roses and warm vanilla—of the way she made those constant little noises of discontent. Weirdly, they sounded a lot like the noises she made when she kissed me, and I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. Regardless, the memory gave me wood. Which was uncomfortable as fuck.

We maintained stiff silence all the way to Aspen, and again in the rental SUV. It was unnerving. I didn’t need to talk to people. I’d always been happy to keep to myself. And yet here I was, needing Parker to talk to me. I missed her spirit. I missed her voice.

“We’re almost there,” I told her in a sad attempt to start a conversation.

She hummed under her breath—a sound that could mean anything from “Yes, we are” to “Fuck off and die, Rhys.”

Twitching in my seat, I drove us down a private road that seemed to stretch on forever. Despite the tension inside the car, the outside scenery was spectacular. Craggy, dark gray mountains with snowcapped peaks stretched toward a clear blue sky. Amidst the evergreens, aspen trees punctured the landscape with their ghost-white trunks and lacy golden leaves. It was all so beautiful, it turned a dumb-ass like me into a poet. I’d smile at that, but there was still the matter of Parker hating me.

We crested a small hill and the house came into view.

“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath.

Parker leaned forward. “It’s quite impressive.”

The first actual sentence she’d uttered in at least three hours. A downright gift. And she wasn’t wrong.

Fairchild’s lodge was a low-slung modern ranch mix of stone, logs, and peaked roofs. The center house split off into two main wings on either side. Smoke drifted from six chimneys as sunlight glinted off wide picture windows. It was beautiful.