Page 86 of Flare

Or maybe bacon.

Talk.

My fork hovered over my plate, and I wondered if stabbing myself in the eye would stop Callum’s voice in my head.

“Rhys? You don’t have to eat it, babe.”

One look at the worry on Beck’s face and I caved. “Come and sit next to me, here.” I patted the bed and he scooted around so we were side by side. That way I didn’t have those shrewd eyes right in front of me. And as we ate, I talked, giving Beck the basics of what had been covered at my appointment with Callum. Not everything, but enough.

He listened in silence and said all the right things about working around whatever I needed. I wanted to trust him, I really did, but Nolan had said the same, and with Callum’s caution fresh in my mind, that old memory rang a solemn note in my ear.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Rhys

Beck droveme to Flare so I could continue to work on the new jacket while he and Jack visited Serena. I hadn’t got a foot in the front door before Kip fired me a knowing smirk from the service desk, not missing the fact I was still in the same clothes as the day before.

“I knew you weren’t upstairs.”

I flipped him off. “I’ll have you know I slept in the spare room,” I told him righteously, sidling alongside and frowning at the empty store. “Damn, it’s like a wet Sunday in here.”

“It’s early yet.” But Kip didn’t sound hopeful. “And I’m not buying the spare-room thing for a minute, just so you know. How did the appointment go?”

I startled, forgetting for a minute that he knew.

Kip bit his lip. “None of my business.”

“S’okay.” I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it on the bannister. “I’m just not used to people knowing. For seventeen years it’s just been Hunter and my mum, after Dad died.”

Kip nudged me with his shoulder. “As I said, none of my business. Now, about this morning. If we stay this dead, I was thinking I could get ahead on the promotional stuff for once Fashion Week is done. I’ve got the order information for the buyers ready to go, and the promo kits are done, but I was thinking we could add in some teasers for new stuff you’re working on. Maybe ask if people want to sign on for updates. You’ve got that men’s skirt range for next year, which should be a hit. I’ve seen some of those sketches. They’re smoking.”

“Thanks. And that’s a great idea.”

He gave a broad grin. “Then I’ll get a format done and we can just cut and paste when you’re read—”

My gaze shot up at the sound of the door being slammed back on its hinges, the old glass rattling in its frame.

“Which one of you is Rhys?” A furious scowl stamped the face of the man standing in the open doorway. He was average height, mid-forties, wearing brown trousers and a grey wool coat, and altogether unremarkable except for the puce-faced anger directed our way.

Kip immediately bridled. “That door is original. Be careful unless you want to cough up for another. And who the hell are you?” He started forward, but I put an arm out to stop him.

“I’m Rhys Hellier.” I stepped around the service desk and met the still glowering man halfway. “And this is my store.” I offered my hand but he slapped it away.

Kip was at my side in an instant with his phone out. “You want me to call the police?”

I put up a hand. “Let’s see what the man has to say.”

“I want you to stay the fuck away from my daughter,” he spat. “That’s what I have to say.”

I flicked a startled glance to Kip whose eyebrows were in his hairline. Then I turned back to the furious man. “Excuse me? I think you might have made a mista—”

“Emma.”

Shit.Emma was Drew’s dead name, which meantthiswas Drew’s father. Before I could answer, he launched in again.

“I know damn well she was here last week, and it’s going to stop, you hear me? She has school to think about. She doesn’t need all this bullshit you’ve been ramming down her throat.”

“Now wait just a goddamn minute.” Kip seethed. “No onehas been ramminganythingdownanyone’sthroat. Drew comes here to find a little space, that’s all. Space to think and to be who he is. All we do is respect that.”

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