Braving Lily

Lily

The hour ticked by fast, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I rubbed my eyes, tired and ever so slightly off-put. Who knew offering an hour of my time for a good cause would bring so much unnecessary stress into my life?

“What do you want to do now, Ms Tyler?”

Noel glanced back at me from the front seat of the SUV, his dark gaze ever watchful, and his posture straight and alert. Sitting didn’t rob him of his imposing presence, yet so many of my stalkers had made the mistake of misjudging him. His hulking, broad-shouldered frame should have been warning enough.

“I’m not sure yet.” I fished out my phone.

A complete stranger shouldn’t have been able to push me off my axis. Especially not without meeting me.

Yet Rhys Jones had done just that.

If I couldn’t trust ordinary people not to mess with me, where did that leave me?

But then, the only men you’ve dated have been fame-hungry assholes.

Truth.

Something I couldn’t avoid no matter how hard I tried. If I ran across one more, I’d have to start wondering what about me as a person drew them like flies to rubbish.

No one stood me up. Ever.

When the realisation hit, when I applied the words to the hour-late date, it rocked me to my core. It didn’t help that my cousin and all his friends had been present to witness a failing someone couldn’t logically blame me for.

Yet the foreign feelings of rejection and shame took hold of my heart and squeezed it until I had to wonder if the ache would ever go away.

I’d tried twice now to fulfil the commitment. Surely, no one would expect me to keep rescheduling a date.

Or you could try one more time.

Sighing, I hit dial on a number I’d used far too frequently. The phone barely rang before the upbeat voice of an older woman spoke.

“Lily, how wonderful to hear from you so soon.” Her deep Welsh accent filled my ear, her voice clear as a bell, each word carefully enunciated and rolling off her tongue with a certain lyrical quality. “How was the date? Was Rhys well-behaved?”

Well behaved?

How old is this guy?

I bit my lip, her hope momentarily giving me pause.

“He didn't turn up.”

I should have worded it differently, but with the burn of rejection seeping into my bones, I didn't have the energy to make it sound pretty.

She gasped. “That can't be.”

I rolled my eyes. Unless he made himself invisible, there was no other explanation.

“He didn't contact you to say he couldn't make it this time?”

I didn't have his number. In the beginning, it had seemed simpler, and Noel had argued that sharing my personal number with too many strangers wouldn't end well.

“He didn't.” Annoyance pinched her voice. “I'm so sorry, Lily. I don't know what happened.”

“It's okay, Mrs Jones.” It wasn't, though I'd never admit that to her. She'd tried. I could hardly hold her accountable for her adult son. “But this is the second time. We tried, right?”

Silence on the line, and Noel's brows rose. I shook my head before turning my body more towards the tinted window.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re giving up.”

“I’m not sure what else I’m meant to do if he doesn’t want to make use of the date.”

“You're not getting out of this, Lily.” Her voice hardened. “I paid for a date. He’s getting a date.”

I paused, shocked by her sudden change in tone. She’d always been cheery and pleasant, but this? I frowned at the phone.

“If you won’t fulfil your end of the deal, I’m not above rescinding my donation.”

“When you put it like that,” I ground my teeth, “I can’t really say no.”

“Correct answer.” She sounded so pleased with herself. “Give me five minutes, Lily. I promise I’ll get this sorted out.”

I held back my exasperated sigh. Just tell her no.

“Okay, five minutes.”

We hung up, and Noel shook his head at me.

“You're too bloody giving, Ms Tyler,” he said, his voice hard. He turned around, muttering to himself about manipulative people.

Tell me something I don't know, Noel.

The car raced across Cardiff, the traffic unsurprisingly heavy for a Saturday. Even with the horns blaring and the constant stopping, none of it really registered.

For the second time in my life, a man consumed my every thought. Only this time, I didn’t even know what he looked like.

Why the hell did I let her talk me into this?

My fingers drummed against the door handle, impatient for the fiasco to end, but the closer we got, the more unfamiliar nerves danced beneath the surface.

Nervous. Me?

I’d forgotten the meaning of the word over ten years ago. Perform for a stadium full of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans and you become mostly immune.

But here I was, letting anticipation consume me.

Foolishly hoping this mystery man might have at least one redeeming quality to justify the whole mess.

When I broke up with Shaun, excitement for all the possibilities had filled me. We’d gotten together as teenagers. Everything either of us knew about romance and love, we learnt from each other or films. I wanted the zing of attraction every book and romantic comedy shouted about.

Two years later, and all I had to show for it was a smattering of tabloid rumours and multiple men on my publicist’s shit list. Bitterness festered inside of me, destroying my faith in humanity one date at a time.

The closer we got, the harder my heart pounded. I should have refused.

The SUV slowed to a halt in a suburban area, and I inhaled a nervous breath. Trees lined the street, and small lawns stretched between the houses and the quiet residential road.

“We’re here, Ms Tyler.” He glanced back at me over his wide shoulder, dark eyes creased with concern he’d never voice.

I could see the questions flitting across his face, could feel them echoing inside me.

What the hell am I doing?

Lily Tyler did not chase men.

She took her time choosing from the ones who threw themselves at her feet. She did not corner the man who stood her up…

I don’t get stood up in the first place.

I nodded and glanced out the window at the small, semi-detached house. A driveway stretched down the side of the red-brick facade. Small shrubs lined it, giving a neat edge to the property.

Kind of cute, in a cookie cutter sort of way. The fact it wasn’t a terrace house surprised me. Every house I’d encountered since leaving South Wales had been an old-school terraced house from the mining age, unless it was a council estate my parents forbade me from visiting.

There were no lights on, but then the sun still shone. No car in the drive either, but the garage door stood closed.

Mrs Jones promised he would be home. Yet as I gazed at the quiet house, I couldn't help but suspect she’d been wrong.

I reached for the door handle, my fingers wrapping around it. My hand tensed but I didn’t push the door open.

Are you actually going to do this?

I released the door and covered my face, massaging my temples as if an answer would come in the silence. Or the quiet thrum of indignation would melt away.

Neither happened.

Despite what his mother claimed, I had a hard time believing he hadn’t stood me up. I couldn’t shake the need to understand.

Why did he do it?

He knew who I was. Did that mean he did it consciously, and if so, why?

“Fuck,” I groaned into my hands.

Then I bit the bullet and threw the door open. I slid out of the SUV fast, my eyes narrowing on the navy blue door at the end of the path.

The door slammed behind me as I raced up the path, my heels clattering loudly against the concrete. I noted a second slam. One glance over my shoulder confirmed Noel had exited the car and leaned against his door, arms crossed, watching me and the surrounding area with his usual tension.

The sight eased a little of the anxiety inside of me. Even if the guy turned out to be a psycho, my trusty bodyguard would be close enough to save me.

I tapped my fist against the door, applying more force than was strictly necessary. Tension coursed through me, pulling my shoulders back and locking my muscles while the moments ticked by and no one moved inside the house.

See? Not in.

The thought didn’t relax me. It only made the questions blare louder. If he wasn’t in, then his mother had lied to me. Did that mean she’d lied to me before?

I had two weeks before rehearsals for the biggest tour of my life started. Traipsing around Cardiff hunting for a man who knowingly or unknowingly fucked with me shouldn’t have been on the cards.

Yet I couldn’t make myself walk back down the path and leave.

“Can I help you?” A man called, dragging my attention away from the solid, unmoving door. His deep Welsh accent stroked my nerve endings in ways they hadn’t experienced in years. Not since Shaun.

I turned towards him, chiding myself for missing the car pulling in. Noel leaned against our car, his gaze fixed on the man but his lips pressed firmly together. The bastard could have warned me.

“Are you Rhys Jones?” I asked, my voice strong and confident and not vibrating with the confusing mix of annoyance and anxiety filling me.

He eyed me as he made his way to the front door.

“Yes? Do I know you?”

Piercing blue eyes snared me, burning through my nerves and momentarily making me forget why I should bristle at his question.

For a second, I lost control of my eyes. I scanned his body, his athletic build, clad in jeans and a tight black t-shirt, and swept-back brown hair. Dark stubble covered his jaw making me wonder what it would feel like against my cheek and… other places.

He cleared his throat and sense rushed back. My cheeks burned, yet another unfamiliar feeling.

Do I know you!

“You stood me up a few hours ago.”

“Oh. You’re…”

“Lily Tyler, yes.”

He continued to stare at me with no visible reaction to my name at all. No guilt, no sheepish glance at the floor, not even a glimmer of indignation at my appearance in front of his house.

“Five-time Grammy-winning lead singer of The Brightside?” The words tripped off my tongue harshly, immediately followed by a stab of shame.

Rhys shook his head, turning the dagger of guilt in my chest.

“That’s not going to work on me,” he said, tone bored. He brushed past me.

I spun on my heel, brows drawing tight. “What isn’t?”

“The affronted pop star act.” He slotted the key into the lock and glanced at me. “I don’t care who you are, how many awards you have or how many fans you’ve got.”

“Is that why you stood me up?” I asked, my voice hard.

I shook my head as he threw open his front door. A bitter laugh escaped me. “I think I get it. I’m famous and, therefore, it’s perfectly fine to be an ass?”

He stopped in the doorway, his shoulders stiff.

“No, that’s not —” Rhys spun around, his eyes wide and his cheeks burning with what I hoped was shame.

“It’s not what you did?” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “So you make it a habit to stand every woman up?”

“No, I—”

“Decided it was okay to do it to me because you didn’t arrange it yourself?”

“Can you give me a minute to think, woman? Jesus.” He growled, then dragged his hand through his hair. “I did not expect you to turn up on my doorstep,” he muttered, then stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his hand. “Do you have any idea how creepy this is? You might be okay with people camping out on your doorstep, but we normal people don’t expect to be ambushed in our homes.”

“Okay with people camping…” The number of times some asshole shrugged it off as a given of the job…

“You have some serious issues with fame, don’t you? Why the hell did you let your mother bid on a date with me if you hate famous people that much?”

“I didn’t know,” he forced through a clenched jaw.

“And that makes it perfectly okay for you to treat me like a blow-up doll?”

“I don’t think you’re a…” he struggled over the words.

His gaze tracked down my body in a way that should have made disgust coil inside of me. Instead, the burn of it made me hyper-aware of his proximity. At some point, he’d stepped towards me. Mere inches separated us now, and even in three-inch heeled boots, I had to tip my head back to stare into his stunning eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

My mouth dried and the words on the tip of my tongue evaporated. His voice was heavy with sincerity, and I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

Then his expression hardened. “How did you find out where I lived?”

“Your mother.”

All the colour drained from his face. “My mother sent you here?”

Had he ever actually agreed to any of these dates?

I glanced up at Rhys, latching onto him like a lifeline. “I don't understand.”

Rhys sighed. “I tried to tell her not to.”

My lips pursed at his weak response. "So she decided it would be perfectly okay to waste my time and put me in danger?”

His brow furrowed. “How did my mother put you in danger?”

I hooked a thumb at my bodyguard. “He’s not for show.”

I’d only agreed to meet at The Hound because Rhiannon had a deal with the landlord to lock off the back room whenever they were in. Every exit had been covered. Noel had wasted a week preparing for it. All for nothing.

“Is that a gun?” Rhys swallowed hard when I nodded. He paled and went back to staring at stone-faced Noel. “Shit.”

Inside, I chuckled at his shock. Outside, I eyed him just as hard as my bodyguard, all pissed-off woman, sick of men (and their mothers) messing her around.

With a concerted effort, Rhys turned away from Noel and focused on me again. He dragged another hand through his hair and gripped the nape of his neck. Something softer had crept into his hazel eyes; it cut away the sharp edges, making him even more tempting and giving me pause.

“Okay, as much as I argued against it, my mother clearly didn’t think about the consequences.”

“That's one way of putting it,” I muttered.

“I'm sorry she dragged you into my mess.” Rhys winced. “That was a dick move.” He crossed the space between us and grabbed my hands in his. His touch felt warm against my cool skin. “My mother can be quite bullheaded,” he continued with a rueful smile.

He bit his lip and searched my face. Whatever he saw eased him. His shoulders relaxed and his expression hardened with determination.

“I’m not changing my mind on the date, but can I at least buy you a coffee to apologise?”

My turn to be indecisive.

Why are you here, if not to prove a point?

In two weeks, I’d be on a jet out of the country, prepared to spend two weeks straight in a rehearsal studio with my dancers, choreographing for the biggest and longest tour of my career. Setting myself up for attachments or more unexpected emotions would only make my job harder.

But then he flashed a smile and butterflies took flight in my stomach.

“Fine, one coffee, but Noel’s driving.”

Rhys

For the entire drive to my favourite coffee shop, tense silence ruled between us. The bodyguard sat like a warning in the front seat, one I was keen not to piss off.

Too late for that.

I tried not to stare at her, but it proved difficult. When my mother told me she’d set up a date with Lily Tyler, I didn’t have a clue who she was. A quick internet search fixed that.

Lead singer of The Brightside, shot to fame at the age of sixteen, rich and famous.

Article after article spun a tale of a selfish woman focused only on furthering her career.

Her split from her long-term boyfriend sealed my decision. That was too much for me, too close to my own life to be amusing.

I couldn’t bring myself to put in the effort.

And then she ambushed me at my front door.

For a second, my heart had stuttered at the sight of her, bright blonde hair glowing in the afternoon sun. A toned body wrapped in a red flowing sundress that hugged her torso and tits while tangling with her dancer’s legs in the light breeze that gifted us a slight reprieve from the sweltering March heatwave.

Her icy blue eyes sucked me in, numbing me to the long list of reasons giving her my time would be fruitless.

Six years ago, the first spark of attraction would have been enough. I would have tripped over myself trying to win even a night with her.

But I’d learnt my lesson.

No matter how gorgeous Lily Tyler was, or how her beautiful yet haunted eyes called to me, I refused to lose sight of myself.

I wouldn’t allow myself to get attached, but how could I send Lily away when my bloody mother had gone out of her way to waste her time?

Simple. I couldn’t.

With my family and friends, I’d mastered the unaffected man act, pleading ignorance to the countless relationship hints. One look of dismayed shock from Lily flipping Tyler, and the act shattered before I could really get into it.

The car stopped outside the busy coffee shop and the bodyguard climbed out. I reached for the door but a hand clamped down on my other, freezing me.

“Not yet,” Lily said. She squeezed my hand, her grip gentle but firm. “It’s not clear yet.”

She leaned back in her seat, tilting her head against the headrest and shutting her eyes. I studied her with confusion as she relaxed into the leather. Then her bodyguard entered the cafe, tugging my attention away.

I watched as he approached the counter and spoke to the staff. Excitement skittered across their faces before they jumped into action. While they talked, customers filed in and out, laughing happily and paying no attention to the SUV containing Wales’s biggest success.

Some of them would argue that The Brightside and Marable were tied, but I’d seen Lily’s net worth — I’d never admit it to her — and her band had surpassed the old rock band in every way. No Welsh band had charted as much as them, won as many awards or earned as much money. She’d put Wales on the musical map, I could concede that.

Didn’t mean I trusted her.

“Those must be some deep thoughts,” Lily said, her voice soft.

Time away from her roots hadn’t wiped out her Welsh accent, but it had dulled it to the point of being unrecognisable. To the average person, she’d sound American. This close, the dips and lifts of certain words rang loud.

“What is he doing?” I tipped my chin towards the coffee shop.

Lily continued to study me, a slight quirk to her lips.

“Did you think a sell-out pop princess could go anywhere she likes?” she muttered, her tone bitter yet amused.

If the sparkly leotard fit…

She sighed. “He’ll try to get the space cleared out, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll get a section clear and have the staff agree to certain rules.”

I stared at her, expecting more. She turned away, watching people move around inside the shop instead.

“For someone pissed about being stood up, you’re not that talkative, are you?”

“For someone eager to stand me up, you sure want to know all the intricacies, don’t you?”

“Technically, I didn’t stand you up,” I grumbled, the words hollow even to my ears. “My mother just didn’t pass on the message.”

“Yet here you are.” Her head rolled towards me and she grinned. “If I didn’t know any better, Rhys, I’d say you’re intrigued by the sell-out pop star."

My name falling from her lips should not have coaxed every inch of me to attention, but it sounded so sweet.

What would it sound like choked with pleasure?

Not that I’d ever find out because I was not going there.

I groaned. “Would you stop saying that like it came out of my mouth?” I shifted in the seat until my body faced her. “I didn’t call you a sell-out. I didn’t call you a pop star either.”

“Yes, you did.”

My lips firmed and her eyes sparkled in response.

“Alright, once.” I groaned. “The point is, I don’t want to date. Anyone.”

She pressed her lips together and eyed me like she didn’t believe a single word.

“I’m serious, Lily. I’m not ready to date.” I held my hand up when she opened her mouth to ask for information I had no interest in sharing with a stranger. Those pains could stay buried deep. “My mother has other ideas, however. You can consider coffee our date, and then your obligation is done, and we can both go back to our lives.”

Her icy blue gaze roamed my face for a second and then she glanced away with a muttered, “Right.”

Lily drummed her fingers on the door handle.

“Are you writing something in that head of yours right now?”

“I’m always writing,” she muttered without looking at me. “The muse never stops.”

She turned, her lips pursed as she considered me with mischief glittering in her eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t write about you.”

“I didn’t ask—” Wait, would she do that? “Is that a risk?”

Lily chuckled. “Oh, you didn’t do much research, did you?”

“I did some.”

“But not enough to know I’ve spent my entire life fielding questions about what and who inspired specific songs?”

I shook my head, and then she turned back to the window. “Interesting,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Silence dipped between us and, logically, I knew I should leave it be.

“I’ve never stood someone up in my life, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but I’m not… that type of guy.” I bit my lip, internally screaming at myself to shut up. “I’m not… I just mean I wouldn’t normally do something like that.”

Lily swung her head towards me, an exasperated light in her eyes. “Right, I get it, you’re not an asshole…”

I nodded. “Exac—”

“Only it was okay with me, because I’m, you know, famous.” She batted her lashes at me, a dark smile curling her lips. “How am I doing, White Knight?”

“You can’t keep blaming me for my mother’s actions.” The words were tinged with a barely restrained hint of irritation and a touch of sadness.

“Maybe.” She shrugged and hope fluttered in my chest. “You should have tried harder to stop her.”

For the last six months, I’d successfully dodged setups with every single woman my mother could get her hands on. She never suggested the same person twice.

Why hadn’t I shut her down?

I hadn’t thought Lily’s fame factored in, but maybe it did. I should have followed up, should have realised something was off when my mother suggested the same date and kept sending me cryptic messages.

Whether I set it up or not, I’d made a dick move because I stupidly believed my mother wouldn’t stoop to manipulating us.

I also didn’t think Lily’d care.

Her reaction hadn’t dispelled that belief, no matter what she said, but her actions hadn’t unearthed a pit of guilt in my stomach. Mine had done that.

Even before my ex and best friend had… left, I’d tried to live my life by one rule: don’t be a dick.

I’d failed that with Lily, and it knocked me off balance.

“Look, I’m sorry.” I winced. “If I say that word one more time, it’ll lose meaning but I do mean it. I should have asked more questions, should have made sure my mother properly cancelled. I acted like an asshole, and I’m not that person. Can we start over?”

Her lips twisted as she considered me. The door to the coffee shop opened and her bodyguard stepped out. He approached the car, and inexplicably, my heart rate kicked up. I felt certain that if we left the car, we’d never get over our raw beginning.

Now if only I could figure out why that mattered.

“For an hour, can we pretend none of this happened and just enjoy our coffee?” I asked, my words rushed as her door opened.

She hummed, tilting her head from side to side, almost weighing my suggestion.

“Fine. I’ll try.”

With that, Lily swept out of the car. Her bodyguard ushered her to the door, a hand hovering at the small of her back, his head bent close, relaying something. I scrambled out of the car to follow them, my gaze skating over the coffee shop, searching for changes.

Everything looked normal until I stepped inside. Every eye in the small room focused on her. Giddy smiles claimed people’s lips while the usual noisy chatter fell mostly silent. Some stared at her in awe while others leaned close whispering to each other.

I joined Lily at the counter where she talked animatedly to the owner and the baristas.

“What would you like?” Lily asked me, bumping shoulders with me.

She glanced at me, a soft smile assuring me that she’d swept our bad start away. Or is it all for show?

Then I felt it. The moment every eye in the room fixed on me. It made my skin crawl and my neck heat.

We ordered and she signed a bunch of things for the staff, everything from takeaway cups to phone cases. Then they led us to a blocked-off area in the back corner of the shop, the lines drawn with rows of chairs. Tables had been shifted around to give an illusion of privacy.

Through it all, Lily smiled and laughed. It didn’t seem to bother her, and why should it? She clearly liked the fame.

We settled into our seats. Lily slipped into one in the corner, facing towards the crowd. I took one with my back to it all. The itchy feeling of being watched went nowhere, but at least I couldn’t see them.

Imagine doing this every single time you step out your door.

Lily

My muscles ached from holding myself still. My cheeks burned from maintaining a happy but blank expression. Even with Noel positioning himself at the perfect angle to block their eyes and cameras, I couldn’t relax.

I’d stopped braving public spaces years ago. The brief seconds of feeling like a normal person never lasted long enough and always ended in chaos.

We’d be lucky if we got through a full hour without a little pandemonium. Still, the change of pace was kind of nice.

I sipped my latte and assessed Rhys. He leaned towards me, his face turned away from the main part of the coffee shop, evidently just as uncomfortable. Only he couldn’t hide it as well.

My mind was racing with questions but I held my tongue. Where did I even start?

“So…” I hummed, not so subtly nudging him to speak as the drone of whispers surrounded us.

“So?” he repeated. Amusement twinkled in his eyes and his brows rose.

I chewed my lip, hating to go back to the silence, but equally unsure. It had been a long time since I'd met someone “normal.” What did people talk about?

“Do you have any siblings?” I asked, and instantly wanted to slap myself as the lame question popped out. Next, I'd be asking him what his favourite school subject was.

“A brother.” He smirked, flashing me a glimpse of the humour beneath his serious facade. “Thankfully, he's not perfect, either.”

I chuckled. “Do you throw each other under the bus a lot?”

“With my mother?” He grinned at my nod. “Oh, yeah. All the time. The weeks he screws up are my favourite. My phone doesn't ring once.”

Thinking of how persistent his mother had been, I could imagine the appeal of such a break. Only...

“Doesn't that mean you both have a vested interest in grassing the other up?”

He nodded. “Something we probably should have grown out of, I agree.”

I laughed. “At least it makes for fun family dinners.”

Something I could only dream of. My dad had rarely been home for dinner throughout my childhood.

“You have no idea how right you are.” His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, his lips quirked up in a shy smile, and his eyes danced as he nervously twisted his mug.

What a contrast!

A single look should not have made me squirm in my seat.

“What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

The light and fluffy delight vanished.

“No. It’s probably for the better.” I shrugged, trying to pretend like it didn’t matter. I’d wasted a lot of hours begging my parents for a sister growing up. “What normal life would a sibling of mine have?”

I was filled with anxiety as I watched my close-knit group of family and friends get bombarded by questions and attention. I didn’t know if my presence —if I — was enough to make up for the scrutiny they’d received.

“So, what do you do?” I asked him, restraining the wince desperate to follow.

Yet another mundane question. I knew his name, that his mother liked to meddle in his love life, he mistakenly believed me a spoiled princess and now his address. Not a complete picture of the man.

“IT Support,” he said, a slight smirk curling his lips. “I spend most of my time telling people to turn their device off and on and reminding them that their CD drive isn’t a cupholder.”

I chuckled. “Sounds like fun.”

“It can be.”

“Is there something you’d rather be doing?”

“One or two things, yeah.” His grip tightened on his coffee mug.

“Which are?” I tilted my head, scrambling for questions that might crack him open. “I’m not sure what you think I’ll do with the information, Rhys. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“I know.” He chuckled at himself. “It’s honestly stupid, but the last person who tried to get to know me messed me up from the inside.” He tried to smile but the gesture twisted into something so sad my heart ached for him. “It makes me a little hesitant.”

“That I can understand, better than you might think.”

Rhys studied me, his dark gaze burrowing inside of me. “I bet,” he whispered.

“Okay, so more innocent topics maybe?” Although I’d think ambitions would be pretty safe.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, his voice deliciously growly. A glimmer of excitement sparkled in his eyes for the first time. “I want to make apps.”

“What kind of apps?”

He turned the mug, dragging it on the tabletop as he chewed his lip. “The one I’m working on right now combines camping and hiking. Sort of a merging of user data sharing and an auto-feed of up-to-date hikes and local bothies.”

“So you like to camp?”

He smirked. “I take it you don’t?”

I winced before I could get it under control. “I’m not the dirt and bugs type, no.”

“I’m not surprised.” He chuckled. “Good thing this is just a charity thing, right?”

All traces of amusement fled from me. Did he mean the auction or that my dating him normally would be nothing more than a charity case? My brows furrowed at the implication.

“Why were you involved with that auction anyway?” Curiosity glimmered in his dark eyes. “I didn’t believe my mother at first.”

“My cousin’s girlfriend was involved and we’d just reconnected. Well…” I grimaced. “He needed to grovel to get Nia back and I offered to help. ” I leaned forward on my elbows, letting my amusement free. “You should consider yourself lucky. I don’t usually make a habit of auctioning off my time.”

I stared at him, refusing to break eye contact. A tiny part of me wanted to watch him squirm because of me. Not the people waiting eagerly for a piece of me.

Rhys blushed and I held my breath, fighting the smirk of triumph trying to escape. Then his gaze dipped, tracing down my torso and back up. For a split second, interest flared in his eyes and my body responded, hitting me with a need so intense I had to clench my thighs together to ease it.

He glanced away, swallowing. “Good of you to help,” he choked out.

“Does your mother make a habit of meddling in your love life?”

“Sometimes.” His gaze dropped to his mug, his wry amusement bleeding away. Internally, I catalogued the slip, intrigued. Outwardly, I maintained the pleasant smile everyone expected.

“Is it a new thing?”

He nodded, barely meeting my eye now.

I waited a moment, expecting something… more.

“Have you told her it bothers you?”

He eyed me, his uncertainty plain to see. That shouldn’t endear him to me, but fuck, of course, it did. I’d gotten so used to men throwing themselves at me, never showing an ounce of weakness.

Rhys’s caution delighted me in bizarre ways.

I’d never appreciated having to work for a basic conversation before. I loved it.

Rhys shrugged. “Couple of times.”

Okay, touchy subject. Got it.

“Why is she so invested?”

His dark gaze clashed with mine from beneath his lashes. Hesitation screamed from him, only deepening my fascination.

“My parents have always been pretty silent when it comes to my love life, so I can’t relate.” I leaned forward, dipping my head to hide my face behind him. “I can imagine it’s annoying though, having someone remind you of the past when all you want to do is move on.” I let a true smile claim my lips, hoping he’d see the true me beneath the polish — slightly cracked, a little bruised but still fighting strong. “How about I stop asking you about it and let you lead the conversation?”

“Thanks.” Rhys nodded, then took a sip of his flat white, eying me over the rim. “How do you deal with all of this?” he asked as he lowered the cup.

My gaze flicked to Noel’s strategically positioned back. “The attention you mean?”

“Yes. I don’t know how you can stand sitting there knowing every eye in the room is on you.” He shuddered and a pang of sympathy shot through me.

I should have let him off. My indignation would have passed. In two weeks, my mind would have been so consumed with the tour that I wouldn’t have given him a second thought. Or at least, I hoped that would have happened. That it would happen.

Instead, I’d forced our meeting because why?

No, really why?

Some crazy tiny hope that it might turn into something?

Pfft. As if. One look at him squirming under the undivided attention of maybe twenty-five people made the reality perfectly clear.

Yes, he was gorgeous and, for the first time in more than three years, a man intrigued me. But they always had something wrong with them.

Shaun had been a closet alcoholic.

Every guy since him had been a secret fame-whore.

What would Rhys’s problem be?

How I wished he’d just be normal, that he’d give me a taste of the sweet peace of not being hounded by paparazzi everywhere I went or having to worry about some psycho breaking into my house or hotel room.

Not having to wonder when he would betray me.

He didn’t look like the sort. If I believed in appearances and let my heart and hormones make the decisions, he could turn out to be the best thing to happen to me.

But these days, optimistic Lily only existed in the music.

No, pursuing anything with him would be stupid and I’d vowed to stop thinking with my heart when the last guy stole my underwear and sold it online. I didn’t need to open myself up to the risk of any more psycho attention.

No matter how gorgeous he was or how much the tight fit of his t-shirt made me ache.

“What made you decide you wanted to be,” he gestured at me, his brows raised, “a pop star?”

“Well, I didn’t set out to be a pop star.” I smirked, but still maintained a happy vibe that no sly paparazzo shot could use to start a rumour about my bitterness or some shit. Inside, that bitterness dug its claws in hard. “I wanted to be a rockstar, but for some reason, people have a problem with that.”

“Why’s that?”

I shrugged. “Apparently releasing one pop rock album destroyed the credibility of the five before it.”

Not that there was anything wrong with pop-rock.

“That’s bullshit.” Rhys frowned at me. “You shouldn’t think like that.”

“Oh, I don’t,” I drawled, biting my lip at the thrill of watching a stranger get riled up on my behalf. “I couldn’t agree more, but the music experts — and I use that term sparingly — won’t let it go. We’ve done classic rock, hard rock, pop rock, country, and stripped-down acoustics. We’ve scored films and written musicals. I know I’m a talented songwriter. I know my boys are incredible musicians. I know I’m a rockstar,” I bit out the word. “My fans do, too. I love my job, even if certain magazines refuse to give me my dues.” I shrugged, suppressing the bubbling anger the topic always inspired.

I could release hard rock albums back to back for years and I’d still be a pop star that the media praised one moment and sneered at the next.

One day, I’d stop caring.

For now, I had to be content with pretending.

Pleasant silence fell between us as we sipped our drinks. Well, pleasant for me. Rhys hadn’t stopped squirming since we sat down. He kept opening his mouth and shutting it immediately, almost like he warred with his thoughts. Intriguing.

“You know I spend my nights fiddling with code. What do you do when you’re not...” he gestured at me, his brows scrunched up as he searched for a word.

“Being the lead singer of The Brightside?”

He nodded, his expression smoothing out with a grateful smile.

“I’m always writing, but I do like my downtime.” I smiled mischievously. “I love a good puzzle.”

“Puzzle?” he repeated, his disbelief loud.

“The more complicated the better.” I chuckled at his confusion.

“You’re teasing me, right?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “It’s the only time I can switch my mind off. I do them before shows, before bed… Any time I’m feeling anxious.”

“Wow,” he muttered before glancing down at his cup.

What did that mean?

“What?”

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “It’s such a normal thing.”

My lips pursed. “I am normal.”

“Not even close,” he scoffed, spearing me with those captivating eyes.

Before I could argue with him, a little girl dodged past Noel.

“Uncle Rhys,” she cried, excitement rising her voice to almost a shriek.

Rhys turned towards her, his face morphing from horror to a happy smile so fake it could rival my own. She missed it all, her hazel eyes shining with delight as they panned between us. Her long braided chestnut brown hair bounced against her shoulders as she rushed towards us dodging chairs and tables.

A man stopped in front of Noel, tugging at his nape in a fashion Rhys favoured. Looking more closely, the pair of them shared similarities, although the newcomer seemed to have a couple of years on Rhys.

“I’m so sorry, Lily,” Rhys said before the little girl launched herself into his lap. “I didn’t expect to run into them.”

Noel turned to me, a question in the lift of his brow. I nodded and he let Rhys’s brother slip past.

“Sorry, Rhys. She spotted you through the window.” His focus shifted to his daughter. “We’ve talked about you running off, Sienna.”

She groaned. “I know, but it’s only Uncle Rhys and…” Her gaze shifted to me and I could pinpoint the exact moment my identity clicked. Her eyes widened comically and then she leaned into Rhys and whispered, “That’s Lily Tyler.”

Rhys met my gaze, something like dread flickering across his face. I smirked at him, my brows rising in a silent challenge.

Go on. Introduce your famous date to your family.