RHYS
My first week trapped under the same roof as Ivy went by relatively quickly. I hated to admit it, but having her around wasn't that bad. Not because I still had feelings for her. It was just better than being stuck at the ranch alone. We were both indifferent to each other, which was fine. Just because she grew into an unattainable beauty didn't mean I couldn't keep my dick in my pants.
When Eddie dropped Ivy off at the ranch last night, I ensured I wasn't around for more than one reason. I decided to drive to Polson – again – but this time to play a gig at MacDougall's Pub. It just so happened Jillian showed up to watch my set. She sat at the bar while I played on stage for over an hour. The bar owner liked my set so much that he booked me in for a gig every other night for the rest of the summer. This was a big deal for me to be recognized for my music. I was thankful for the opportunity, but mainly for an excuse to leave the ranch.
Once the bar closed, Jillian stumbled into the backseat of my Range Rover. She knew the drill. She got down on her hands and knees and started to suck me off. The problem was, I couldn't get into it. Panic set in when my dick started to go limp. That kind of shit was never an issue for me – ever. Seriously. I questioned what the fuck was wrong with me. I looked down at Jillian's dark brown hair, trying to focus. Blaming my inability to get hard as steel on whiskey and not Ivy Bishop. The mere echo of Ivy's name in my thoughts unexpectedly perked my dick up. I ordered my dick to get over it, except it hardened even more at the thought of her.
I gripped Jillian's dark brown hair, watching it morph into golden curls. I soaked in the drunken visions of Ivy with her lips around my cock. Enjoying my moment of emotional betrayal against my brother as I spiraled out of control and came into Jillian's mouth. My body went off, and when I was finished, Jillian crawled up beside me, mumbled some incoherent nonsense and fell asleep with her head on my shoulder. My head was a fucking mess. I couldn't return to the ranch, so I spent a sleepless night in the backseat of my Range Rover.
I truly hated myself when I drove back to Moose Creek the following day. I felt guilty and ashamed for letting Ivy slip into my mind. I blamed it on the alcohol and Jillian's inability to suck a decent cock. Like I said, I had no feelings for Ivy Bishop. None.
Thankfully, Ivy had already left for her scheduled shift when I entered the ranch. I poured myself a cup of coffee and downed it in seconds. My head was pounding because I was insanely hungover. My body felt like it just took a beating on the football field. Sleeping in the backseat of my Range Rover until I sobered up wasn't comfy, but it was needed.
I jumped when my cell phone rang. I answered it after two ear-deafening rings.
"Rhys, how are you holding up?" My father, Reginald Wyatt, boomed over the line.
Fuck. My father was the last person I wanted to hear from this early morning. He'd already yelled at me enough over the accident, my lack of focus, and my inability to meet his expectations that I sincerely hoped he was not about to do it again. My hangover couldn't handle it. I was in a foul mood, and my brain-to-mouth filter was not working fully.
"I'm fine. What's going on, Dad?" I asked as politely as possible.
"Anything you need to tell me?" he said coolly.
Yeah, how about I don't give a shit about football. I'm still drinking myself stupid, and I've done zero training and conditioning since I arrived in Moose Creek. But I don't say that. Instead, I say, "Nope. Nothing on my end. Just laying low in the ranch."
He cleared his throat. A strong indication my answer didn't appease him.
"Alright, Rhys. I am going to cut right to the chase," he snapped. "I heard you were in Polson last night playing your damn guitar at McDougall's Pub. What the hell are you thinking? Your only focus should be football and improving your grades."
"So what if I played a little guitar last night? I'm doing everything you asked. I'm laying low – "
"You listen here, Rhys." His voice boomed over the line. "I've hired one of the best personal trainers to come up to Montana for the entire summer to ensure you keep your body in shape for football. Her only job will be to keep you trained and conditioned, check your urine for illegal substances, and provide me with progress reports. I am not able to babysit your ass when I'm constantly travelling for business. I can't let Coach Fenwick down because you can't take responsibility for your actions."
"Dad..." I took a calming breath. But I didn't feel calm. I was pissed about my situation, and I was not in the mood to get chewed out and treated like a child. This wasn't part of the deal. "I can assure you I don't need this type of supervision. I am on my most splendid behaviour."
For Christ's sake, I was a terrible liar.
"Don't get smart with me, Rhys. We have a serious problem here -"
"No, we don't," I cut in. "I've already done what was required. I returned to Moose Creek, got out of the party scene, and am laying low as you and coach asked. With a little bit of time, I'll be re-focused and ready to hit the field again."
"This isn't a joke, Rhys. You're a star-quarter back. I need you to get your shit together for this upcoming season."
"I can do that on my own."
"You lost all privileges to call the shots on what happens with your football career when you got behind the wheel drunk."
Anger bubbled to a corrosive temperature in my bloodstream and burned inside me. I wanted to smash my phone against the wall. Nobody gave a shit about what I wanted. All I was to my father and Coach Fenwick was a human trophy. It was my father's only way to control me and give him something to brag to his hot shot buddies about. And I was Coach Fenwick's ticket to a National Championship Trophy. Neither of them gave a real shit about me. All they cared about was themselves.
"Rhys? Are you still there?"
I was seconds away from losing control. My hands balled into fists, but somehow, I managed to stop myself from punching the wall.
"Yeah," I grumbled. "Thank you for your continued concern."
"The personal trainer I hired is Holly. You will need to pick her up from the airport on Friday evening. I won't be able to since I'm in Texas on business. I will have my assistant forward you her flight information."
Without saying goodbye, I clicked off from the call. I fought to gather my thoughts as I turned on the shower and washed away my resentment.
Around dinner time, I heard Ivy walk into the ranch. I found her in the kitchen with her back to me, talking on her cell phone.
"Yes, I know it was due months ago." My head snapped up, hearing Ivy sound upset. I suddenly felt weird standing there eavesdropping and admiring parts of her body I shouldn't be. What the hell was I doing greeting her after shift anyway? I shouldn't even be within five feet of her, never mind, on the opposite side of the kitchen island. "I'm working this summer at Whitefish Resort," she continued. "I just need more time. I promise – "She stopped mid-sentence and turned toward me. When our eyes met, she changed her tone from worrisome to carefree. "Thank you. I'll give your office a call tomorrow to resolve the issue."
She ended the call, removed her phone from her ear, and stuffed it in the back pocket of her shorts.
"Hey," I took a cautious step forward. "Everything okay?"
Before she could answer, her phone rang again, and I swear she looked like she might pass out. She turned it on silent mode and shoved it into her back pocket. I frowned when I noticed she was fighting the urge to cry.
She nodded and opened the fridge door. It blocked her face, but I could see her hand trembling on the handle. "I was thinking of making a stir-fry for dinner. Do you like stir-fry?"
"Yeah, sure."
Something was off. Ivy never offered to make me dinner before...this was a first.
She sniffled. "Shit. I don't think there are any peppers to make a good stir fry," she paused. "How am I supposed to make a stir-fry without any peppers?"
I didn't answer her. I could hear a tremor in her voice. I slowly closed the fridge door to see Ivy on the other side with tears in her eyes and her bottom lip quivering. My heart broke. I didn't like seeing her so upset. Why did I think her tears had nothing to do with peppers?
"Ivy, it's okay," I assured her and took another cautious step forward. "We can make something else."
"No, we can't." Wiping a tear from her eye, she reached for a frying pan and placed it on the stovetop without making eye contact with me.
"Ivy, what is going on?" I let out a ragged breath. "Who were you on the phone with?"
She remained silent as I took in her appearance. She was still wearing her uniform from the ranch- something I should thank my father for - a tight white polo shirt and tiny black shorts. My eyes followed her long, tanned legs down to her bare feet, which had painted pink toenails. My eyes slowly travelled up her body. Her blonde hair was up in a messy knot, with long strands framing her face. She was beautiful, even when she was crying.
"Ivy, look at me."
She paused and looked up at me. I reached and cupped her face with my hand.
"What's wrong?"
"A credit agency," she sniffled, again lowering her eyes. "I owe the University of Montana part of last year's tuition, okay? I don't have the money to pay it off. Never mind how I need to pay for this year's tuition."
Frankly, I wasn't that shocked. The Bishop's weren't wealthy by any means. I wanted to pull her into me and tell her everything would be okay. But I couldn't touch her like that. I let my hand fall from her face and stepped back to put some space between us. Why hadn't my brother done anything about Ivy's unresolved debt problem? We didn't have money problems most people had. We had ridiculous trust funds, and our father owned a multi-million-dollar properties and world class ranch. Money was never an issue for us. A few thousand dollars for tuition wouldn't break the bank. Seeing the look of despair on Ivy's sweet face, I had this weird knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea what to say to her. I wanted to help her; of course, I did, but I was close to crossing the line where I might overstep.
"Does Blaine know about this?"
"No. No one knows," Ivy said, lifting her face to look up at me again. "If I can't tell Blaine about you being here, you must promise me you won't tell anyone about this. Promise me."
I nodded, unable to resist the urge to hold her. I took a step forward and pulled her into my chest. She sobbed and sagged into my touch as I glided my hands down her back and pulled her closer. Her scent rising around me smelled like strawberries and wildflowers. I closed my eyes, holding her as she cried. God, she felt amazing in my arms. When her hands slid up to my chest, my entire body stiffened. This was feeling way too familiar and way too friendly. Blaine's face broke into my thoughts, and I pulled away. Ivy stiffened, too, almost as if she sensed how intimate we suddenly became, and she pushed away from me.
"If you ever need a loan – "I said, unable to look at her.
"Don't even finish that sentence," she cut me off.
"I wasn't offering you a hand-out."
Her green eyes locked with mine.
"You're the last person I'd ever want to owe something to," she quipped.
My chest hurt. She had every right to hate me. I'd hurt her so many times over the years it was no wonder she couldn't stand to look at me.
"Christ Ivy. Harsh much?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?" a laugh escaped her throat. "I had no idea Rhys Wyatt grew a heart."
Bringing up our past wasn't helping her situation more than helping me deal with mine. It broke my heart to leave her half–naked and humiliated that night in her father's office. I haven't been able to come back to Moose Creek since then. I figured that once I was gone, I'd eventually forget about her, but as it turns out, Ivy has always been every which way I turn. Even now, amid an awkward conversation about her unresolved debt, my heart still bleeds for Ivy.
She turned away from me and started to walk out of the kitchen.
"Come on, Ivy," I called out after her. "I was just trying to help."
"I don't need anyone's help," she shouted over her shoulder. "Especially not from you."
I chased after her and wrapped my hand around her elbow, closing the distance between us and pulled her against me. She went stiff from my touch, but I wasn't worried about hurting her anymore. I wasn't the one she loved anyway.
"Don't hide in your room," I whispered. "Come back in the kitchen. I've got something that might make you feel better."
Some of the tension in her body eased, and she turned to face me.
"What's that?"
"Whiskey."
She frowned. "I don't drink away my problems like you do."
"Don't you trust me?"
Ivy dropped her gaze from mine and studied our hands. We'd absentmindedly laced our fingers together.
"Rhys," she said softly, removing her hands from mine. "I don't think..." she trailed off, her face pale.
"Just one drink, I promise."
Her green, untrusting eyes studied me for a few painful beats before surrendering.
"Okay, fine," she sighed.
She reluctantly followed me into the kitchen, sat on a stool, and watched as I poured each of us a shot of whiskey. When I passed a shot glass to her, a small smile finally tugged on her lips.
I raised my shot glass.
"Cheers."
"Cheers," she replied.
In unison, we slammed back the whiskey. Ivy cringed, sputtered and coughed. She wiped her mouth and looked up at me. "That tasted like shit."
I let out a short laugh and shook my head. "You get used to it."
She laughed. "I don't understand how you think something that tastes so awful is supposed to make me feel better."
"It's simply a distraction," I told her. "It doesn't have to taste good."
"A distraction, huh?" she laughed again. "I'll remember that next time I'm feeling down and out – slam a shot of whiskey – not only does it burn taste buds, but it burns emotions too."
I smiled at the sound of her laugh. I loved it. It was infectious and bubbly; I'd do anything to hear it again.
"I'm glad my theory charms you," I smiled.
I soaked in the sight of her. She was blushing, and I liked it.
"You've always charmed me," she whispered.
Our eyes locked, and Ivy looked horrified at her omission. It took her a moment to collect herself, and I grinned as she clumsily pushed away from the kitchen island.
"You look a little flustered there, Goldie."
She shot me daggers.
"I shouldn't have said that," she groaned.
"Nothing wrong in speaking the truth," I winked.
Her eyes went wide.
"It's not the truth anymore," she said with a shaky breath. "Didn't you hear me use past tense?"
"It's no secret you had a thing for me growing up," I laughed. "I was just making a joke."
"Get over yourself, Rhys," she hissed. "Because your jokes aren't funny. I'm dating your brother."
I didn't respond. I felt horrible for bringing up the past between me and Ivy. Seeing the pained look on her face made my stomach turn.
An awkward silence fell between us before she spoke again. "This was a bad idea. I should probably retreat to the guest bedroom..." she trailed off. We both knew she wanted to leave because things were getting too real between us. "And I really should call Blaine," she said softly.
Hearing his name roll off her tongue, I had an unwanted ache knot in my stomach. It was uncomfortable, and I desperately wanted it to go away.
"Aren't you hungry? I can go to the grocery store and get some peppers," I offered. I was panicking inside. Why didn't I want her to leave?
She shook her head. "No. Please don't."
Ivy turned away from me and started walking toward the guest bedroom. I clenched my hands into fists as her familiar, sweet scent followed her. Damn, she smelled perfect.
"About your loan-" I said to her backside. Fuck Rhys. Shut Up. "Your secret is safe with me."
She stopped mid-step and turned to face me. "Thanks, Rhys." A small smile touched her lips, and my heart involuntarily swelled.
"I'm confident everything will work out for you," I spoke again. God, this was growing increasingly awkward. She nodded and watched me curiously, trying to decide if I was messing with her.
Don't open your mouth again, Rhys. Just let her walk away.
I made a very conscious effort not to say anything else.
"Good night, then, Rhys," she said, glancing at me. "And you're right. Everything will work out as it should."