Chapter 3
“So how long have we been dating?”
Rhys glanced up from the bacon he was frying and shot an annoyed frown at Thomas, who was perched on the counter nearby, wearing a plain white tee shirt with plaid flannel pajama bottoms, and he was swinging his bare feet. Rhys was already irritable because he hadn’t slept well. For some reason, his brain had kept reminding him there was a man sleeping right across the hall from him, and it tossed up images of Thomas relaxed in slumber, his long, silky hair fanned on the pillow.
“Off the counter,” Rhys said. “I don’t want your ass parked where I prep food.”
Laughing, Thomas hopped off the counter and skirted around to lean against the island instead. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Does it matter?” Rhys flipped the sizzling strips of bacon with a pair of tongs.
“Of course,” Thomas said in the patient tone he might have used to explain something obvious to a toddler. “It establishes our level of intimacy and comfort as a couple. Are we still in the honeymoon phase? Are we moving out of that phase and into something less giddy and more settled? Are we the type of couple to engage in PDA?”
“Why do we need to decide all that?” Rhys turned to face Thomas, bracing his fists on his hips. He didn’t want to think about honeymoon phases and PDA with Thomas when this was all theoretical.
“Because it’ll inform our performance,” Thomas said. “I mean, do you even know how I like my eggs?”
“Fried with a dash of hot sauce.” Rhys went to get the bottle of Texas Pete out of the cupboard while he was thinking about it.
Thomas stood up straight, appearing surprised but pleased. “How did you know?”
“How many meals have we eaten together over the past three years?” Rhys gave him a sardonic look.
“Touché.” Thomas inclined his head to acknowledge the point. “You like yours fried too, but with lots of pepper.”
“See?” Rhys smiled as he put the bottle of hot sauce on the counter in front of Thomas. “We got this.”
“So your relatives aren’t the type to ask questions?” Thomas widened his eyes in a show of faux innocence. “They won’t want to know how long we’ve been dating? No one at all will ask what happened to spark the change?”
Rhys grimaced and returned his attention to the bacon, not wanting to admit Thomas was right. They needed to have their story straight so they could answer the inevitable questions they’d get from his family — especially his mother — and so they wouldn’t tell different versions to different people.
“We’ve been dating long enough for you to feel comfortable plopping yourself down on my lap,” he said, giving Thomas a pointed look over his shoulder.
“In that case, it’s been about a year and a half,” Thomas said, grinning impudently.
“Let’s say we made the change a couple of months ago.” Rhys lifted the strips of bacon out of his cast iron skillet one by one and dropped them on a plate covered in paper towels to absorb the grease. “We don’t want to be too far into a relationship or it won’t be believable when we break up.”
“Why not? People break up at all different stages of a relationship.”
“Because we’re putting this on me, not you.” Rhys plucked a couple of eggs from the carton and cracked them open on the side of the skillet, keeping his gaze turned downward. “I don’t want you to take any blame for the relationship ending, and it’ll be easier for Mama to believe I got cold feet and bailed if we haven’t been dating long.”
Thomas was silent for a long moment, and then he cleared his throat. “Thanks, I appreciate that. But we could always come up with a reason why we both agreed it wasn’t working.”
“Believe me, Mama won’t have any trouble buying that it was me who wanted out.” Rhys sprinkled a generous amount of pepper over one of the eggs.
“I don’t want to talk about the breakup yet,” Thomas said, frowning a little. “What about getting together? How did it happen? Who made the first move?”
Rhys glanced back at Thomas and grinned as he stashed the carton of eggs back in the fridge. “You did, of course.”
“Of course!” Thomas laughed. “Let’s see… Maybe I had one too many beers at Miguel’s one night and decided to go for it. Or maybe some of us dragged you into a drunk game of Truth or Dare, and I picked dare.”
“How would anyone know to dare you to… what? Kiss me?” Rhys asked, amused by Thomas’s fertile imagination.
“Oh, that’s easy.” Thomas’s answering smile was bland as he rested his chin in his hands. “Someone knew I’d had a crush on you for a while, so they decided to help me out by daring me to kiss you.”
Something about that idea made Rhys uncomfortable. Maybe because it was too plausible? But no, he would have noticed if someone — ifThomas— had a crush on him. Wouldn’t he?
“How did y’all get me to agree to it, though?” he asked, forcing himself to push away all thoughts of Thomas crushing on him. “It’s your dare, not mine. I’m not obligated to go along with it.”
