That was it. No boyfriend or date. Just Rhys.

My lips went numb as I stood there. A big, dumb ox.

Vida smiled at me, sly as fuck. “And does Rhys have a last name?”

She didn’t give a shit about my name. She was digging. We all knew it.

I smiled wide and stuck out my hand. “Rent boy.” My smile grew teeth. “It’s more of a title.”

Parker gasped, and Vida tittered.

“How marvelous, Parker.” She sounded truly impressed.

Parker, on the other hand, was bright pink. Good. I rolled my tight shoulders. “If you’ll excuse us, I need a beer.”

I took hold of Parker’s elbow and guided her away as gently as I could. I was pissed, which meant I had to be extra careful with my strength. Yeah, Parker had acted like I was garbage at her side, but I wasn’t about to manhandle her.

“Rhys,” she hissed, stomping along at my side. “What the heck was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I shot back. Several bars were set up on the various terraces. I went to the closest. “Beer. Just give me the bottle.”

Parker tried her best to glare a hole through my face, as I grabbed the bottle of offered beer and took a long pull.

“You didn’t want that woman to know who I was,” I said. “Why?”

Biting her lower lip, she looked away. “She’s a friend of my parents.”

The words were a kick in the balls. “Ah.”

Parker glanced back with eyes that were wide and pensive. “That’s it?”

“What’s there to say?” I shrugged, gripping the beer tight.

“Well, obviously, there is something to say because you’re clearly in a mood.”

God, for a smart woman, she was fucking blind sometimes. “Whatever, princess. It’s nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Very mature.”

“About as mature as hiring a fake boyfriend because you can’t tell your asshat boss to fuck off with his misogynistic bullshit.”

She blinked, pausing for a beat before starting up again. “I’m really angry with you, and truly want to tell you where you can stuff that comment, but I find myself compelled to give you credit for your use of ‘misogynistic.’”

God, this girl. I liked her, damn it. I couldn’t let myself. A good fighter protected his weak points.

“Five whole syllables in that word too,” I said dryly.

With a huff, her eyes narrowed and the fire returned. “I was more impressed by the usage than the length.”

Too easy. I tipped my beer bottle toward her in salute. “Sweetheart, with me, you’ll get both.”

“What …?” A blush shot across her cheeks. “Oh, you …you …”

I leaned in. “Come on, Tink. Say it … asshole, dickhead… You know you want to really tell me off. Let me have it.”