Keira
A nd the Thank Oscar Godforhethecrankedbest hugup everthe A/C. goes to Rhys Hartford. I desperately
need to cool down. My body is still humming like an electric generator after that bear hug. I could’ve
stayed wrapped up in his arms forever. My eyes drop, and the manly hand clutching the stick shift
becomes an obsession. I loved the feel of them on my bare shoulders. I’m sure I’d love the feel of them
on my legs— Don’t go there. As his speeding bullet emerges from the parking lot, I focus on the City
of Angels. The city is buzzing with energy. Everywhere I look, people are all decked out in their
Friday night best as they head to their favorite drinking hole to kick off the weekend. “London is
something else at night, but nothing compares to LA. Not even New York.” “I agree,” Rhys says. I
spoke the words out loud? I turn to him and smile. He smiles back before changing gear. On their own
volition, my eyes drop to his hand. I have to stop doing that. “My arrival must be cutting into your
Friday night entertainment,” I say. “Hardly,” he says. “After being away for three weeks, I decided to
stay late at the office to play catch-up. Once I called it a day, I headed to a
private gentlemen’s club to hang out and shoot the breeze before driving to pick you up.”
“Hence the suit?” “Hence the suit.” “The suit suits you.” “Eloquent.” He smiles before returning his
focus to the road. “I know, right? After what seems like a thirty-hour flight, I can still come up with a
clever play on words.”
He laughs. Even though my brain is yelling at me to look in front, my eyes are glued to the navy pants
that fit him perfectly. The crisp white shirt and the tie with a cool pattern complete the sleek look.
There’s something about a man in a white shirt. And then there are the kickass silver cufflinks... So.
Freaking. Hot. I’ve been stalking him online to ke ep track of his milestones, so this isn’t the first time
I’ve seen him looking like a bona fide businessman. In person, the suit porn effect is overwhelming. I
was unpr epared. I’m practically blinded by his hotness. Everything about him emanates power.
I squirm against the seat, seeking relief. When that doesn’t work, I cross my legs and squeeze them
tight.
I catch Rhys staring for a brief moment before his gaze shifts to the road ahead.
What a man. I still remember the teenage boy who used to solemnly promise one day he’d be
successful enough to own a serious collection of top-of-the-line athletic shoes. The polished man
sitting next to me can afford anything he wants.
Rhys combs a hand through his thick silky brown hair. The years have been good to him. His angular
jaw is so decisively masculine. The 5 o’clock shadow is outrageously sexy. I like it on him. The long
eyelashes framing his glacier- blue eyes still make me weak in the knees.
Some things never change. “I guess the suit is just part of the veneer of being a successful
businessman,” I say.
“At first, wearing a suit every day wasn’t a natural thing for me like it was for Beckett. However, when
you’re on top, the clothes make the man. It’s all about playing the part.”
And what a man you’ve become... “The first years we started SCORE, I felt like I was playing
dress-up. I was trying to hide my insecurities behind expensive bespoke suits. In my head, I was still a
has-been rapper, desperate for significance. Beckett confessed he was in the same boat, unsure we’d be
able to pull it off. He was as concerned as I was about falling flat on his face.”
“But you didn’t. You thrived.” “We surprised everyone... even ourselves,” he says with a smile.
“From musicians to moguls.” “More like artists to moguls,” he says. “Yeah, but you lose that cool play
of words.” I grin. He laughs. “Speaking of playing the part... your hair... it used to be so long and full.
What happened? Was it a requirement?”
My curtain of hair was my pride and joy. Our eyes lock, and the words tumble out. “The purpose of
living in a N epalese monastery for a long period of time is to atone for sins. For others, it’s time to
ponder and reflect. We’re required to respect a certain way of life.” I advert my gaze. “Nuns shave
their heads. The rest of us aren’t held to those standards. A month into my journey, I decided to rid
myself of all traces of my former life.” I pause. “I cried so much when they shaved my hair off, even
though I requested it. It was so scary.”
I glance at Rhys. He glances back. “That was a bold move,” he says. “Michaela swears I gave her the
courage to follow in my footst eps. Her hair is even shorter than mine. Her st epmother is going to have
a shit fit when she sees her.”
“What’s that all about?” “It’s too long to explain, suffice to say, it in volves a lot of drama.” “Got it.”
He nods. “It seems Michaela and you were looking for the same thing. Sometimes, you need a blank
slate to spring forward.”
“One of the nuns k ept telling me that. Even though I stopped shaving my head three months ago, it’s
still really short.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Some days I’m okay with the length, others I
struggle. Some days
I recognize the girl in the mirror, some days I don’t. It’s amazing how attached I was to my hair and
how it was linked to my identity. Crazy, right?”
Rhys shoots me a side gaze. “Short or long hair... you’re fucking perfect to me.”
I close my eyes, feeling the words vibrate through me like a meteorite just smashed into the ground.
“On the plus side, the short hair showcases your beautiful features a lot more.”
Something pinches in my chest. “Did you call me beautiful?” “Like you don’t know what you look
like?” The warmth of his compliment runs through me. I blush as a smile cre eps up on my lips.
“Another bonus, you can’t hide your dimples anymore, Cocoa Puffs.” “Will you always call me by
that nickname?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes and his lips twitch. The memory of that day slams into
me and I’m three years old again, pulling a stool to the pantry and grabbing hold of the giant
family-size box. I sat on the floor, naked, and ate Cocoa Puffs straight out of the box. Grandma was
horrified when she found me. She said I was bouncing off walls for an hour until I got sick and puked
all over the place.
I cross my arms over my chest. “The nickname bothers you?” “A little. It’s like you still see me as a
kid.” “You think I haven’t noticed you’re all grown-up?” Something about the way he says that...
My eyes lock with his. Under the dark interior of the car, I can’t make out what I read reflecting in
them, but God, am I ever hot under the collar.
I don’t trust myself to say a word. A moment of long, heavy silence stretches between us. “I’ve
noticed, Keira.” His gaze rakes my legs, moving up my thighs, over my breasts before landing on my
face. It’s like his eyes are caressing me. I swallow. The air-conditioning blasting through the interior of
the Benz is inadequate as my body heats up like I’m about to combust. “Believe me, I’ve noticed.”
“Okay.” My breath es capes in a shaky gasp.