Page 76 of Catching Sparkles

I’ll be here when you get home, I assured him. I’ll give you whatever you need.

You seriously drive me fucking crazy, Sparkles. I’m going to head out soon.

The stupid smile on my face was embarrassing, and I was glad I was alone as I hugged my phone to my chest.

Hurrying into the bedroom, I yanked open my top drawer, digging through all the fun, lacy things I’d collected over the years. Little had I known I’d been collecting them for Rhys. Deciding on a particularly pretty set, I pondered the fact that it was getting pretty late into the night, and Rhys would likely be pretty tipsy when he got home. He’d probably want to fuck, and then crash out into a satisfied slumber.

Moving over to my nightstand, I yanked open that drawer too, pulling out everything I needed to prep for the scenario in my head. Because he’d been so incredibly sweet and loyal, alleviating fears he hadn’t even been aware I was having, I decided I was going to make it very, very easy for him to get what he wanted from me.

Carefully and deliberately working through every step, I stared at myself in my floor-length mirror when I was finished. I looked hot. Rhys was definitely going to lose it when he got home. Deciding I’d meet him at the door in my lingerie just like I had the first time we’d had sex, I stretched out on the bed, laying my phone right next to my face so I’d notice when it lit up.

Exhaustion hit me out of nowhere, probably a crash from the adrenaline rush I’d had when I’d thought Rhys was interested in the woman from the bar.

And as I waited, I slipped into a deep sleep.

RHYS

YOU SERIOUSLY DRIVE me fucking crazy, Sparkles. I’m going to head out soon.

I sent the text, then shoved my phone in my pocket so I could finish my beer and throw my opinion into the discussion the guys were having about the rosters for some of our favorite teams. After another handful of minutes had gone by, I told them I was going to head home.

Only wincing slightly as I was showered in a chorus of teasing jeers and remarks from the guys about how whipped I must be, and how they couldn’t wait to meet the baddie who had me so wrapped around her finger. If only they knew.

The desire to be honest about it and explain how things had escalated between Kendall and I was surprising, but I pushed it away. I wanted to, but I needed to think about it a bit more first. Prepare for their reactions. I wasn’t an idiot, or ignorant to the fact that not everyone in the world would be cool about me being bi. And I was pretty sure that was something I was willing to endure, but it didn’t feel like the right time.

I set up a ride through the Lyft app on my phone, noting the guy was close and would show up in just a couple minutes. The air was pleasantly brisk and felt good on my skin as I walked out to wait in front of the bar. A guy came up just behind me, and I held the door for him.

“Thanks,” he said. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket as the chill hit, shooting me a grin. He looked to be a decade or so older than me with a preppier look, short hair styled neatly and a dazzlingly white smile.

“No problem,” I responded.

“You waiting for a ride?” He wondered, and I gave a quick nod.

“Lyft.”

“Cool. Me too. Probably a different one,” he tacked on and I couldn’t help but snort.

“Ah, yeah. Probably. Unless there’s some super economy option I didn’t know about.”

He chuckled at my remark and lifted a shoulder. “I’m sure they’re working on it.”

I was extremely aware of the fact that we were just making polite small talk so it wouldn’t be miserably awkward while we both stood there, but the longer I stared at him the more I kept thinking I recognized him from somewhere.

“Hey, do I know you?” Pretty much everyone in Cherryvale knew everyone else, but we weren’t the same age and I’d been gone for a decade.

“I don’t think so. You probably just recognize me from the signs.”

“You famous or something?” I asked, confused.

“Nah, just a realtor.”

“Oh, yeah!” I realized. “I’ve seen your face around my neighborhood. You’re the one trying to sell the creepy house on Mulberry.”

“Ah, yes,” he acknowledged. “And the moniker has really helped my sales pitches, let me tell you.”

I snorted again, wincing slightly. I was pleasantly tipsy from the drinks I’d had inside, but nowhere near drunk. Still, it made the small talk much more bearable than normal.

“Sorry. The old, slightly dilapidated house on Mulberry.”