“I do, actually,” Rhys said. “My cousins have daughters who’re like nieces to me. I’ve done up their hair before.”
Thomas slid a plain black elastic hair tie off his wrist and held it up. “Well, in that case…”
Rhys chuckled and took the hair tie, and then he paused long enough that Thomas thought maybe he was going to stop. Maybe he’d reached his limit and realized he couldn’t go through with such an intimate gesture after all. Thomas went still again, bracing himself for what felt like the inevitable rejection and retreat, but then Rhys smoothed his palm along the top of Thomas’s head and sifted his fingers through the sleek curtain of long, damp hair.
“It’s so soft,” Rhys said. “Andy’s wasn’t like this. His was coarser and curly.”
“Mine is pretty fine,” Thomas said, keeping his voice soft so he wouldn’t risk shattering their tenuous rapport. “But the good thing is I’ve got a lot of it.”
“I can tell.” Rhys began dividing Thomas’s hair into sections. “French braid or regular?”
“You can do French braids? Fancy!” Thomas closed his eyes again and tilted his head forward. “Let’s go with the French braid, then. I want to see your stylist skills for myself.”
“You got it.”
Rhys’s strong fingers were gentle as he gathered new section of hair into the braid, and Thomas was on the verge of drifting into the zone again when he heard the click of high heels on the sidewalk announcing Viv’s arrival. He opened his eyes and looked up to see her standing at the edge of the lawn, watching them with a warm smile.
“Well, don’t you look cozy,” she said as she headed up the walk to the porch, carrying a clear plastic storage container.
Thomas risked a glance back to see how Rhys was responding to Viv’s arrival, half-convinced Rhys would use it as an excuse to put some distance between them. Rhys’s cheeks were a little pink, and he grimaced at her remark, but he finished the braid and secured it with the elastic band.
“He found out I like having my hair brushed, so he’s been doing it for me ever since,” Thomas said, and Rhys grunted what sounded like an agreement.
“Good.” Viv nodded with apparent approval. “I think taking care of each other even in little ways like this helps strengthen a couple’s connection.”
“Or puts one of them in the mood to connect,” Thomas said, winking at Viv, who laughed. He was pushing it, but he couldn’t resist teasing Rhys, especially when it made Rhys sputter and turn red — like now.
“Thomas!”
“Oh, come on, Rhys.” Thomas huffed out an exasperated breath as he shifted to face Rhys. “Viv knows neither of us are blushing virgins.” He stroked Rhys’s warm, flushed cheek with his forefinger, satisfied by Rhys’s intake of breath. “Well, not virgins, at least.”
“I donow,” Viv said, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
“See?”
“What kind of leftovers did you bring, Mama?” Rhys asked, pointedly refusing to look at either of them.
“Subtle,” Thomas said, elbowing Rhys’s thigh, and Rhys blew a raspberry at him in return.
“I’ve got some fried green tomatoes,” she said, offering the container to Thomas. “I thought y’all could make sandwiches, but if you want something more substantial, I can run home and see what else is in the fridge. There might be a couple of burgers or some barbecue chicken and potato salad left from the cookout.”
“No, this’ll be great,” Thomas said, clutching the container to his chest like it was precious treasure. He hadn’t had a good fried green tomato sandwich in years, and his mouth was already watering.
“Would you like to stay for supper?” Rhys asked, but Viv shook her head.
“Charles is taking me out tonight since I’ve been working so hard to get the house ready for the reunion.”
“I thought you looked mighty dressed up to drop off some fried green tomatoes,” Thomas said, waving his hand up and down to encompass the stylish navy-blue dress and pumps she was wearing. “You look great!”
“Thank you.” Viv struck a little pose, appearing pleased by the compliment. “Charles is waiting. Have a nice evening!” She gave them both an airy wave as she headed back to the sidewalk, and Thomas waited until she was out of earshot to face Rhys.
“Congratulations,” he said. “She thinks you’re the boyfriend of the year after that.”
Rhys watched Thomas, his expression somber, and then he tucked a stray tendril of hair behind Thomas’s ear, smoothing it back with surprising tenderness. “You had a good idea. Thanks.”
What Thomas wanted to do was wrap his arms around Rhys’s broad shoulders and lean in for a kiss. He wanted to run his fingers through Rhys’s hair and see if it felt as soft as it looked. He wanted all of that and more, but instead, he smiled and said, “Thanks.” He held up the container. “Ready for a sandwich? Since you did my hair, I’ll make supper.”
“That seems fair.” Rhys stood up and stretched, and Thomas covertly ogled the glimpse of bare skin and firm stomach he got when Rhys’s sweater rode up. “Need any help?”
“No, I think I know where everything is now,” Thomas said, tucking the comb into his back pocket before standing up as well. “Besides, it’s my turn to take care of you.”
“Uh-huh.” Rhys shot him a sidelong look and then disappeared into the house.
Thomas trailed along behind, still savoring the memory of Rhys’s fingers in his hair and looking forward to spoiling Rhys in return, even if it was just by preparing a meal for him. Maybe Rhys would realize he liked it and would want Thomas to stick around. Maybe it would be enough to show Rhys their relationship didn’t have to be a fake one.
And maybe pigs would fly, Thomas thought with a little snort. But he had hope and fried green tomatoes, and for now, that was enough.
