Red Hot Rebel - Olivia Hayle Page 0,35

an age ago. Belonging to a different time and to different people.

But now… what would it be like to kiss him right here on the street, without the excuse of alcohol or ambiance?

“Ivy?”

I blink. “Thank you.”

“Did you ever try to make it into a career?”

The old wound barely hurts anymore, and my bitterness… well, it stings, but it doesn’t linger. “I hurt my knee.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t too bad, in the sense that I’m fine today. I can do practically anything on it, except a job that means jumping or twirling on it for hours on end.” I push my hair behind my ear and shrug. “It’s a common enough story for dancers.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” His voice is not distant at all, and not the least bit sardonic. It’s deep and true.

It’s the same voice who asked me last night if I wanted to be kissed.

“No, but the years have passed. I’ll always miss it, but… I think it’s been a strength.”

“How do you mean?”

I bite my lip. This means putting things into words that I never have before. “That’s to say… I know other models who make this their identity. They’re terrified of the day they have to find another job. But I’ve already had that, in a way. Dancing was my true dream, not modeling.” I shake my head. “I know this is falling in the category of privileged problems.”

“Hey, we called a truce on that,” he says. “I honor all of my truces.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I do too. So I take it back.”

“Good.” He pulls us to a pause in the shade of a large tree, right by the Seine. “We have an hour left. You decide what we do. I have suggestions, but…”

“I’m not sure we have time… could we go to the Louvre?” I ask. It had been highest on the list of what I wanted to see here, but I’d no idea we’d actually be able to do it. The schedule was tight enough as it was.

Something pleased flicks through Rhys’s eyes, giving me an inordinate amount of satisfaction, like I’ve given the right answer.

It makes me want to do it again.

“We have time,” he says. “And Ivy…”

“Yes?”

“About yesterday. I’m sorry for my cousin.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. He was nice.”

The faint furrow in Rhys’s forehead doesn’t disappear. It makes me want to move closer, to rise up and press my lips to his cheek. It’s an impulse I’ve never had with anyone before. The memory of his arms around me comes crashing into me like a tidal wave.

Rhys’s lip curls. “Sure he was. I’m also debating whether I should apologize for what happened on the way home.”

My heart explodes into a stampede in my chest. “Why would you?”

“Just figured you might be regretting it.”

I wet my lips. “I’m not regretting it.”

Quite the opposite.

Rhys gives a crooked smile. “Good,” he says. “Then I’m not, either.”

“Good,” I murmur. My mind is trying to find something else to add, something clever, but it’s like fighting my way through fog. His face is the only thing I can see. “Thanks for doing me a favor.”

“I’ve been known to be helpful every now and then,” Rhys murmurs. “Like right now. Let’s see the Louvre before we have to go to the airport.”

I force myself to nod. We start walking again, and while it’s in no way awkward, I feel like I missed an opportunity somehow. That whatever happened last night… well, the odds of it happening again have grown slimmer.

11

Rhys

I’m short with the hotel attendant. I’m short with Ivy, too, but she’s used to it after nearly twelve hours of traveling. The flight to Kenya had been a ride from hell. Like the Devil’s private roller coaster.

Turbulence after turbulence.

Ivy hadn’t seemed fazed, and I knew there was a possibility that my mind was over-exaggerating things… but fuck, I’m finished with flying after this trip. Done. Trains and boats for me from here on out, thank you very much.

I know my resolution won’t last. The urge to travel will win out.

It always does.

Ivy is talking excitedly with our attendant, named Joy. The drive out to the Rieler’s lodges is near an hour, the landscape changing dramatically as we make our way into nature. The view of endless grasslands and trees is nearly enough to bring me out of my bad mood. It’s been years since I was last in Africa, and Kenya had been… well, near on fifteen years.

It had been a family trip, us