Rhys knew there was safety in numbers when breaking up with someone. An audience made a woman think twice before causing a scene. Well, most of the time, but not always. When Kayla stormed out of the restaurant seven years ago, he'd ended up with a glass of wine in his face. Then there was Ainsley. The memory of her throwing beer bottles at him made him shiver.

Staring across the table at Laken, he wondered what kept him from falling in love with her. She was a beautiful, fun girl, but beyond the sex, they had nothing in common.

In his twenties, quantity had been more important than quality. But now at thirty-four—he stopped. The number reminded him he'd never been in love. Not even close. Never had his heart broken. Not a single time. What did that say about him? He didn't consider himself a manwhore, but was he so shallow that he couldn't invest enough in a relationship to let it develop beyond the occasional two am booty call? Had he done that with Laken?

Her eyes brightened, and she licked her pink lips. The knowledge of what they were capable of sucked the thoughts from his brain.

"Why don't we go away next weekend? I found a cute little B&B online, and I've always wanted to fuck in one." She tossed her brown curls for effect and took a deep breath. Full breasts rose from her green dress.

"You're great, Laken."

She fluttered her long thick lashes like pine needles swaying in a breeze on the first day of hunting season. "We've been dating a couple months now and..."

"Four." She wiggled fingers in the air. "It's been four months."

He tried to hold back a grimace. "Yeah, and it's been great, but..."

She sat up straight and threw her hand in front of her body as if directing traffic. "Wait! Are you breaking up with me?"

"We're all wrong for each other. You have to admit this isn't really going anywhere." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and searched her expression for possible retaliation. She wasn't reaching for her water or wine. A good sign.

"I can't believe you're dumping me. And here I was debating anal with you."

He choked on his drink. Damn, he needed to hurry up with it before he changed his mind. The music and candlelight were getting to him, not to mention the promise he saw in her eyes. "I'm sorry. We're better off as friends. That's not fair to either of us."

She started to say something but must have thought better because she closed her mouth and then scooted her chair away from the table. She flourished her hands as if presenting herself as a prize. "Take a good look. Are you willing to give all this up? Be sure. Be very sure, because I won't be single long."

For a moment, he weakened, but then reminded himself that he'd never have stronger feelings for her. "I hope not, you deserve more. Friends?"

She ignored him. "I suppose this is where I leave." She stood and hiked her purse over her shoulder. "Asshole."

As she walked away, he wondered if he'd made the right decision. A couple of guys in the room turned to follow the sway of her hips. She was right. She'd be off the market before the week ended.

The next evening, Rhys palmed his drink and relaxed in the chaise. Relief washed over him. Laken was history, and other than the loss of having someone, he was happy. She didn't understand. To string her along when his only interest was physical would be wrong. He switched his gaze to watch the moon climb above the trees. Ash branches cast familiar shadows across the lake. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't anywhere more peaceful than the view from his back deck. He loved this place. Having built the log home with his own hands, a deep sense of pride swelled in his chest during these quiet moments.

He sipped and let the liquor go down slowly, enjoyed the burn, and savored the aftertaste. Nothing like a drink of Balcones to end his day. A good whiskey always filled the bill. He emptied the tumbler, stood, and opened the door to go back inside when the doorbell rang. Glancing at his watch, he wondered who it could be. Not Laken. He'd never brought her or any woman here.

He focused through the peep-hole. Accalia's black hair contrasted the jagged streak of moonlight running across his porch. He turned the knob and pulled the door open. "Hey, Sis. What brings you here?"

She rushed past him, headed toward the kitchen, and spoke over her shoulder. "I couldn't wait until tomorrow. Did you give Laken the boot?" Ace opened the pantry, stuck her head deep inside the shelves, and moved things around.

"That's harsh. I was civil."

Ace abandoned her search and moved to the freezer. "Do you have ice cream?"

"Yeah. Pistachio. I also have cookies in the second drawer. Why don't you forget the damn diet thing? You're not fat, and Val loves you the way you are."

She set the carton on the counter, grabbed a dish from the cabinet, and then retrieved a spoon and dipper from the drawer. "It's not so much a weight loss diet as it is trying to be healthy," She dug out a glob of chocolate and plopped it into the bowl. "I'm trying to get all this sucked back in. My body did not bounce back to what it was after Olive. Contrary to what those celebrity moms say, that shit does not just go back to the way it was before."

"I'm uncomfortable discussing your body, but you look great for a woman who has had two kids."

"It's just," she sighed, "Valerie photographs gorgeous models all day long."

He raised his hand to stop her rant. Once she got started, she could go on forever.

"It's not a competition. She was doing that before she met you, and she still married you." 

She returned to the fridge, grabbed a can of whipping cream, gave it a fast shake, and then squirt a creamy mountain on top of her ice cream. She stuck the red lid on the end of her finger and punctuated the air to make her point. "Why do you keep dating these Princess Perky Tits? You're not Leonardo DiCaprio, you could stand to date a woman north of twenty-two."

He cocked his head. He'd never seen her so animated, like a junkie needing a fix. A small grin twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Sonovabitch. Oh, you're good. You're good. I'll give you that. This little visit isn't about raiding my fridge. This is you trying to set me up with somebody. Isn't it? Damn. I can't believe I almost fell for it. Give it up. Whoever you want me to date, the answer is—no, hell no, and have you met my good friend, No."

Slouching onto a barstool, she lowered her shoulders. "Okay, I admit I have someone in mind. When was the last time you dated a woman you know you could be with? And you know why? I'll tell you," she pointed the accusatory spoon at him as if she was about to sentence him to death. "You deliberately date girls you'll never fall in love with. I bet the idea terrifies you."

"Holy crap. You almost had me again. Damn it, Ace. Why are you and Mom hell-bent on me getting married?"

"Main reason: You're the only one to carry on the family name."

He huffed. "Carrying on the name shouldn't be my reason for marrying anyway. Besides, Val could've taken your name."

"It's important to Mom for you to settle down and have a life."

Of course. She had to bring out the big guns.

He shook his head. Even if she and Mom had his best interests at heart, he couldn't force something he didn't feel, and so far, it had never happened. "Right before you got here, I swore off women for a while. With everything going on at work, I don't have time for dating."

"How are you ever going to meet the woman of your dreams if you don't let me help you find her? This woman I have in mind thinks you're perfect. She swooned when she saw your picture." She spooned a massive bite into her mouth. "Blah. Blah. Blah."

"Dammit! Now you're showing my picture around? I want that to stop. Besides, maybe I'm not supposed to get married. Have you ever thought of that?"

Ace smirked. "Oh, my sweet, clueless brother. One of these days you'll fall so hard you won't know what to do. When that happens, I will be right here to say I told you so."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Already, he could feel a headache coming on. "Fine. But for now, please tell Mom I do not want to be fixed up with every available female she meets. Not the cashier at the grocery store, or the daughter of the woman who does her hair, or her book club president's third cousin's sister-in-law's best friend. You got it?"

Ace opened her mouth to say something, but he shushed her. "I mean it. I don't care if she's a perfect catch. I'm not interested."

Arryn's head pounded a residual effect from the Dom Pérignon. She sat up, swung her feet to the floor, and then staggered into the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror confirmed she looked as bad as she felt. Dark circles ringed beneath her eyes, and taut, pale skin stretched as tight as a pair of Spanx. She splashed cold water on her cheeks, blotted her face dry, and ran a brush through her hair. Hungover or not, this was cooking day, and she needed to pull herself together. Without the meals she prepared, Papi and Abuelito would gorge on fast food. Delivering the meals allowed her to check on them. Lately, she'd seen Papi's strength improve during this round of chemo, which made her happy.

After tugging on a pair of yoga pants and a tattered tee-shirt, she made her way into the kitchen. Arsenic and Old Lace trotted behind. "You girls hungry?"

They answered with a loud meow. She measured equal amounts of cat food into each of their bowls and then walked to the counter. A strong urge to check the dating site for more inquiries played with her emotions. But with the disappointing responses she'd gotten so far, she decided to wait.

She retrieved her to-do list from her phone, gathered the ingredients, and divided them into groups. Among this week's selections, she'd make two of her Papi's favorites, roast pork with yellow rice and tostones.

Once she got the meals together, she added her artwork. Black olive daisies growing from green bean grass. Happy faces cut from cheese slices. Carrot eyes with green pepper hair and red pepper lips. Standing back, admiring her work, she couldn't help but laugh. Papi and Abuelito always got a kick out of her creativity.

Once finished, she brought her laptop to the kitchen table. Her background wallpaper only served to make her nauseous now. The perfect couple stood side by side, cheesing at the camera during a trip to Mexico two years ago. Gianna looked so goofy in that sombrero. Pain stabbed her chest. Happy times. Ended. Her future. Gone. She couldn't help but feel like it was her fault.

She deleted the picture and replaced it with her precious pets. Gianna was history, and Arryn needed to move on. But her heart was broken. She'd loved her. Still did. For three long years, her dreams of the future and family included her. Wiping her cheeks, she hoped it didn't take that long to recover. She turned her attention back to the site.

It was loaded from her favorites list, and she clicked on the message. Were ascots back in style? Who was this guy? Fred Jones of Scooby-Doo was not a fashion icon. Delete.

Moving on to the next response. Seventy-three separate selfies of the same man. What? A few pictures weren't enough? Too full of himself. Delete.

Scrolling down. Hmm. Magic Man, age 37, 5'8", engineer, native Georgian. All that and attractive. So far, so good. Her eyes drifted downward.

I'm Joseph. Instead of writing a paragraph about myself, I'll get right to the point by providing a list of things I enjoy: Travel, football, movies, spontaneity, sushi, fine wine, volunteering at the children's hospital, cutoff jeans, and Rainbow sandals.

The reference to children caused her skin to warm, and she smiled at the last two items. This sounded like a guy with a sense of humor and a heart of gold, but she couldn't help but wonder why a seemingly great guy was still unattached at thirty-seven. Maybe he was a divorcee. A knot formed in her stomach. She crossed her fingers and kept reading. Instead of skipping to the end, she wanted to keep the dream alive, so she went to the next section. Another list.

Things I don't like: Self-centered people, most television shows, exercise fanatics, and workaholics.

He sounded almost perfect. She moved the cursor down.

The most private thing I'm willing to admit: I say this without shame. I love spending time with my mom. She's a great lady, and what success I have, I owe to her.

Could he be real? He loves kids and his mother? She typed her reply with lightning speed. Now, all she had to do was wait for his answer. One more query remained.

Starlight, age 42, teacher. Hmm, a bit older and didn't give off the Trophy Wife vibe. Probably divorced with a brood of crumb grabbers. But if she married young, they'd be teenagers. Did she want to deal with an ex and the worst period in a kid's life? High school was hard. She reminded herself to keep an open mind and consider everyone who sounded interesting. If not for her own benefit, for the articles she planned. She read on.

I enjoy weekend getaways, especially sailing. I have two cats, Scratchy and Itchy. I like to cook but enjoy dining out. I kiss slowly, forgive quickly, and laugh easily.

She went right to the private reveal question.

I'm an alcoholic. Been sober twelve years.

The woman had definite potential. She replied and closed her computer. The two prospects danced in her head. There were good people out there. She just needed to be patient. All she had to do was sift out the weirdos and perverts. Much like cleaning Arsenic and Old Lace's litter, life compared to a big cat box. People shit on our lives, and we had to filter them out and begin fresh and clean.

Thanks to Gianna, all the obligatory-biweekly sex was over. The snide remarks concerning her apartment and the way she dressed, ended. The Gianna crap was gone, along with a piece of her heart she'd never get back. But the dating site offered a new beginning, and she was ready to start over with a Magic Man or Starlight.

The trip to Papi's took twenty minutes. Pulling into the drive, she noticed the lawn needed mowing. If the mower started, she'd take care of it. The flower beds had become a lost cause months ago, so there was no need to worry about them. However, blooms cheered the place up and made Papi feel better. He always loved flowers, and when healthy, enjoyed yard work. Maybe next trip, she'd get them ready for planting.

Tears burned, and Arryn dismissed the notion. She couldn't let him see her cry. That verified the inevitable. Something she didn't want to consider. At fifty-five, he was still young by today's standards, when people lived into their eighties. She straightened her shoulders and plastered on her best smile. Before she could open the car door, Papi and Abuelito appeared on the porch.

"Hey, Arryn," Papi hollered. "You need help?"

"Sure." He looked good. Better skin color, and even from a distance, she saw some sparkle back in his eyes. When he got to the car, he took her in his arms and hugged her like he never wanted to let her go. She bit her lip to keep from falling to pieces. What would she do without him? The one-man she'd always counted on. Who loved her no matter what? Thought she was the best and the brightest.

"Papi, you're hurting me." It was the only thing she could come up with to chase away the sadness. They laughed together, then she pulled away and turned to Abuelito. "Hey, Old Man. How are you doing?"

"I'm backed up. Have been for two days."

"Are you drinking your Metamucil?"

He waved her off. "I hate that stuff."

"I can't get him to do anything," Papi said. "He's an ornery old coot."

"You'd better watch the name-calling, Hijo. I can still bring you down a notch or two."

"Abuelito, I'll go inside and fix you a glass, and I'm not leaving until you drink it all. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah." He leaned past her, peering into the vehicle." What'd you bring us to eat? I hope it ain't any more of that ca-ca crap."

"Couscous. And no, today everything is regular food." She opened the car door, passed a bag to each of them, took one for herself, and then followed them into the house. She got busy putting the pans into the freezer and spoke without turning around. "Gianna and I broke up." Her eyes smarted, but the frigid air froze the tears, and she was thankful. It hurt to talk about her, but she needed to tell everyone.

Abuelito looped his arm around her. "I'm glad you kicked her to the curb."

"You didn't like her?"

"Nope. Too much of a city slicker."

She turned to her Papi, brows raised. "Did you hate her, too?"

"I just want you to be happy." He wrapped her in his arms again.

She buried her head in his chest, and this time she couldn't hold back crying.

"Honey. What's wrong? If Gianna hurt you, tell me. I won't lay a hand on a woman, but I'll hire someone to wring her neck."

Arryn shook her head. "No. It's not that. It's everything." Her breath hitched. "I'm sorry, Papi." She pushed away. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm too old to be acting this way."

"It's okay, corazón. Sometimes we all need a good cry. Even Abuelo."

"Hell yeah, but I try not to do it until I have a beer to cry into! You want one?"

That made her laugh. "No. I'll be alright. I just have a lot of stuff going on right now." She wiped her eyes but thought a beer would taste pretty damn good right about now. "I'm fine."

Papi dipped his head to look at her. "You sure? If there's anything you need to talk about, I'm here for you. Anything at all. No judgment."

"I know. I appreciate it. If I can get the mower started, I thought I'd mow the yard."

"No need for that. Abuelito and I were just talking about doing it. We need exercise."

"Are you sure you feel up to it?"

"Yeah, and the sunshine will do me good."

She headed to the front door, then faced him again. "Next time I come, I'll plan to help with the flower beds if you feel up to it."

"Sounds good. I just bought some flower seeds. I won't put them in the ground until you come back. It'll be just like old times."

Arryn turned to keep him from seeing more tears. And as she walked to the car, she felt his eyes on her back. She steeled her shoulders, turned, gave him her best smile, got in the car, and drove away.

She should visit Mom, but wasn't up to facing her yet. The questions of what went wrong with Gianna were too much at the moment. Besides, by now, Mother was on her fourth vodka and tonic. Arryn planned to call her later after she scheduled a date. That way, she'd be able to report a new person in her life. One with real promise and hot lips.

Aw, poor Arryn.

Do we like Rhys yet or nah?

TEASER: "I need to do this fast before you change your mind."