“How long have you lived here?” he asks.

“All my life.”

He raises a brow, prompting me to continue.

“We lived in the city during the school year, then came here in the summers. After Daddy died, and Mama wanted to stay in the city all year, it made sense for me to stay here and turn this into an inn. I’ve always seen it like this.”

“Where is Sam’s dad?” he asks. Not rudely, and not with any judgment in the question. If any of that were in his voice, I’d tell him to go to hell.

Instead, I answer with, “Gone.”

“How long has he been gone?”

“Since the moment I told him I was pregnant.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“His loss.”

“Fuck yes, it’s his loss.”

I whirl my head, surprised by the anger in his voice. He drops my hair, then buries his whole hand in it at the back of my neck and lets it sift through his fingers, and nothing has felt so good in… a very long time.

“He let you and Sam go. He’s an idiot.”

“We were young.”

“He’s an idiot.” He repeats the motion, pulling my hair through his fingers, and I want to purr. “You have beautiful hair.”

“Thank you.”

“So let’s finish our conversation from this morning.”

I frown. “What conversation?”

He chuckles. “You’re not stupid, Gabby. Let’s talk about what was bothering you enough to beat the shit out of some innocent cinnamon rolls.”

I bite my lip and turn my face away, but he catches my chin in his fingers and turns me back to him.

“I’m fine,” I say firmly.

“Does anyone ever call you out on that bullshit?” He’s not angry now; he’s calm as can be, still pulling my hair lazily through his fingers, calling me a freaking liar.

“It’s not bullshit. I am fine.”

“You’re more than fine. You’re damn beautiful.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He grins, that sexy as hell half-smile that makes me squirm in my seat.

“Look, you don’t know me. You just got here. You can’t possibly know that I had anything on my mind this morning.” I swallow hard as his hand rests on my neck and begins to gently massage my tired muscles.

“I don’t know you,” he agrees, “yet. But I can see when a person is worried or upset, and you were worried this morning.”

“You know, I don’t need a man to waltz in here and solve my problems.”

“What do you need a man for?” he asks with mischief in those green eyes.

“I need a man who won’t become a problem,” I reply softly. Because that’s the God’s truth.

He swallows and watches his hand massage my neck. “I can understand that.”

“Good.”

“So are you going to talk about it?”

I simply laugh because this is ridiculous. I’m sitting out here, in the dark, with the hottest man I’ve seen in… ever, and he won’t take a simple no for an answer.

“Let’s just say that sometimes the past comes back around to bite you in the ass.”

“I’d like to bite your ass,” he says casually. My eyes widen and my heartbeat speeds up, but before I can respond to his declaration, he continues. “And if anyone has done anything to hurt you, I’ll kill them.”

“No one has done anything.” My voice sounds shaky to my own ears. Rhys pulls my face toward his again and pins me in his gaze.

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

He nods. “Okay then.”

“I should go to bed. I have an early morning tomorrow.”

“You have an early morning every day,” he replies, and if I’m not mistaken, there is concern in his voice.

“Not on Mondays. I don’t keep guests Sunday nights, so I can catch up a bit around here, have dinner with the family, and sleep in on Monday. So, FYI, you’ll have to fend for yourself Monday morning for breakfast.”

“I can handle that. Why don’t you hire more staff?”

“Because I don’t need more staff. I have the girls who come clean for me every day. I can handle the rest myself.”

“Yes, but you don’t have to.”

“It’s my inn.”

“Your family is beyond wealthy, Gabby. You could afford to have more staff so you don’t have to work yourself and your son to the bone.”

I blink rapidly, push his hand off my neck, and stand to face him.

“Yes, my family is wealthy, but this inn is mine. If and when I need more help, I’ll hire it, but I don’t right now. And if you have a problem with how I’m raising my son—”

“Hey, calm down. I didn’t say that I have a problem with how you’re raising Sam. In fact, your kid is awesome.”

Yeah, try to dig yourself out of your hole.

“Except I’m clearly abusing him by expecting him to have chores and pay for things he breaks.”

“That kid is not abused by any stretch of the imagination, and teaching him a work ethic is a good thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you insulted me back there.”

“No, I’m worried about you.”

And now I’m irritated all over again.