Emrys is pronounced /emm-riss/, so Rys is /riss/

***

I did what any girl would when an insanely hot guy dangled her escapee underwear in front of her.

I ran.

Back into the house, spilling coffee on my tank I'd now need to wash. Except I'd rather wear wet clothes than hang them where Rys could see them. Apparently, not just see but touch.

In his defense, it must've been the wind. I didn't find pins, and it would be easy for the thin material to fly off the rope. I was fairly certain he didn't go around burglarizing clotheslines for unmentionables.

He could fling my panties over the fence for all I cared. I was sure he pegged me for a crazy person already, but still, I'd rather sacrifice my favorite pair of underwear than ever face him again.

In my room, I threw myself onto the bed, burying my flaming face in the comforter. Why couldn't I talk to guys without making an idiot of myself?

And why did I even care what Emrys thought?

Emrys. What a strange name. I'd never heard it before, but it was fitting for someone cocky who waved underwear as if they were a flag without batting an eye. His sexy smirk and confident attitude told me my fuchsia panties were only one of many he'd handled.

A tiny sliver of guilt peeked through the cloud of my embarrassment. Here I was, thinking about the gorgeous stranger after barely a day without my boyfriend.

I rolled onto my back and snatched my phone from the pillow. Brock still hadn't texted, but I called him, ignoring the unease caused by his lack of interest. Three tones later, I heard a click, followed by his voice.

"Lyra. It's fucking early; what do you want?"

Early at ten a.m.? I flinched at his harsh tone. How foolish of me to think, again, that his attitude would change. "I...um...nothing," I muttered. "You didn't answer, and I..."

"Wanted to make sure I wasn't doing anything I shouldn't? Didn't know you were my mother now."

His unfair words stung because I trusted him enough to agree to the stupid break, a fact he didn't seem to appreciate.

I swallowed to clear the knot in my throat. "Okay. I can tell you're busy. Talk to you later."

Brock groaned. "Wait. I'm sorry. I just...fuck, the whole point of this break is to take a breather."

"I just wanted to let you know I arrived. That's it."

"Yeah, I figured you would." He yawned. "Now you can spend your father's money and laze on the beach. The best kind of life, huh, babe?"

Was that how he saw me? A boring, privileged daddy's girl whose only interest was shopping? Sometimes it was hard to remember why I chose to be with him. That we'd been together for so long seemed like a lie. Had he always been like this?

"Lyra? If that's all, I need to go pack. Max's gonna pick me up in an hour. We're hitting the beach with the guys."

I wanted to ask where, but my mother would qualify that question as nagging. Men didn't like that, she'd say. Sounded like he'd agree.

I picked at the threads hanging off the frayed hem of my shorts. "Have fun."

Brock mumbled a half-hearted thanks, and the line went dead.

I allowed myself five minutes of mindless staring at the ceiling, during which I tried to silence the little voice that kept telling me boyfriends shouldn't speak to their girlfriends the way Brock spoke to me. But I was used to him.

And when something became familiar, people often stopped questioning it.

***

In the idealistic version of my Free Girl Vacation, I took long walks in town, snapped pictures of cute things to post on my Instagram, and tried every local dish.

There was still time for all that, but after the panties incident and Brock's rudeness, all I managed was a trip to a small grocery store. I stocked the old fridge with enough food for a few days, had a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch, and went to the beach.

I plopped on the towel, glancing around. Before I could take my sundress off, my phone rang. It was Payton, and I answered right away.

"I'm sorry for hanging up yesterday," she said instead of a greeting. "I had the shift from hell."

I dipped my fingertips in the sand and drew a series of small circles. "It's okay. What happened?"

"Rude customers." Payton sigh-growled. "Some folks believe swimming in cash gives them the right to be entitled jerks. I can't wait for when I can quit and tell them all to kiss my ass."

Guilt lapped at me. The story I wanted to tell Payton seemed insignificant now. She wouldn't be able to afford even a week in the old house in Marfolk. Telling her about my spur-of-the-moment change of plans and renting the entire house for myself would make her feel worse, and I'd hate myself if it did.

"You said something happened to you. What was it?"

I rubbed a few grains of sand between my fingertips. "I got lost on my way here, but it's all good now. Did you manage to rest some?"

"I wish. I'm working at the nightclub tonight. Rich pricks yesterday, horny frat boys today. It's great to be me."

What could I say to that? Someone who hadn't worked a day in their life wasn't allowed an opinion.

"I'm sorry, Pay. Wish I could help."

Payton chuckled. "Nah. Enjoy the vacation since you can have one. Anyone would kill for a month in that resort."

"For sure," I whispered. "Good luck with work."

"Thanks, boo. Talk to you later."

I rested my chin on my bent knees, still clinging to my phone. Maybe it was for the best that Payton didn't know where I was. I wanted to hide, and it'd been a success so far. Hopefully, Mom would be too busy golfing and attending events with Dad to call Seaside Reverie to ask about me.

A seagull's cry pierced the air. I swiveled my head, and my embarrassment from earlier rushed back in — Emrys was strolling toward me, dressed in a white T-shirt and black shorts, holding a pair of flip-flops.

Silver aviators hid his eyes, making it impossible to tell how big of a fool I was on his Hot Guy scale. But when he saw me looking, one side of his mouth lifted in the same kind of smirk I saw in my backyard.

He stopped a few inches from my towel and pointed to the spot beside it. "May I?"

Telling him no would only emphasize my weirdness he'd witnessed when I ran away from him yesterday. I didn't want him to think I was antisocial. Besides, I could use the company — I'd have enough alone time in the next thirty days, and a bit of human interaction wouldn't hurt.

I scooted to the left. "Sure."

He dropped the shoes and sat on the sand, leaning back on his elbows. "I wanted to apologize."

Without meaning to, I let out a nervous snort and inwardly cringed at myself. Why couldn't I stop being an idiot in this guy's presence?

"Really," Emrys said. "I made you uncomfortable, and I'm sorry for that. I put your...empowering accessory in a bag and left it on your porch."

Empowering accessory. I stifled a giggle and glanced at my temporary neighbor. "Um... Thanks?"

"It's no big deal. So, what brings you to Marfolk... I don't believe I know your name."

"Lyra."

"Lyra," Emrys said. "Let me guess, your parents are musicians."

This time, I laughed in earnest. "Both are pretty much tone-deaf. I guess they just wanted an unusual name, went through a list, and stopped at Lyra."

"That's a pretty name to stop at."

Was he flirting with me? It seemed like he was, but Payton often said I was clueless when it came to guys.

Emrys shifted in my peripheral vision. Maybe it was rude not to look at him when we were talking, but if I did, I'd blush. He was just as good-looking as I remembered from our embarrassing encounter, even more so now that I'd taken stock of his broad shoulders, trim waist, strong, masculine legs, and muscles rippling subtly beneath his smooth skin.

He sat straighter, bending his knees like I bent mine.

"I've got an offer."

My eyes drifted to his. He took off his shades, and dark blue irises stared into mine with unnerving intensity.

What could he possibly want from me? Different panties to dangle? Sex?

"An offer?" I asked, hoping his reply wouldn't send me sprinting back to the rental.

"I figured you're here alone. And I haven't seen you in town, meaning you haven't had a chance to go out yet. Will you accept an apology dinner?"

I scanned his face, and even I could read what swam in his blue eyes. Interest. Saying yes was tempting. More tempting than ice cream on a scorching summer day, but a break didn't mean a breakup, did it?

"You don't have to," I said hesitantly. I wasn't sure the one who snapped at me on the phone would mind if I had dinner with someone else. I wasn't sure whether I cared if he did.

Emrys averted his gaze to the ocean. A couple splashed each other, the sound of their laughter echoing on the beach.

"I want to. Does seven work for you?"

The blonde girl in the water giggled. Her boyfriend or husband wrapped his arms around her from behind. They were enjoying the summer and their vacation, and hadn't I promised myself I'd do the same?

Would Brock turn down an invitation because of his supposed commitment to me?

That I knew the answer was both sad and liberating.

I relaxed, allowing my lungs to draw salty air. "Seven is perfect."

***

No version of my Free Girl Vacation involved dining with a guy, but here I was, sifting through the outfits I'd brought, trying to find something appropriate for tonight. Emrys's proximity made me so flustered I could barely string a few words together. Although it was just an apology dinner I agreed to not to spend another evening alone, I was such a frazzled mess that I didn't think to ask him what kind of place he had in mind.

My gaze fell upon a short white dress with lacy trim. Perfect. I'd pair it with silver high-heeled sandals, turquoise earrings, and a matching necklace I made but had never worn.

I yanked the dress off the hanger before I could overthink and hurried to the en suite to get ready.

I didn't usually wear makeup, but tonight I went all out — I outlined my eyes with a turquoise pencil and applied two coats of mascara and pink lip gloss Brock hated, saying it was sticky and he didn't feel like eating chemicals. It was funny he cared when he so rarely bothered to kiss me.

His opinion mattered very little now that he wasn't here, though, and I wanted Emrys to see me looking better than when we met.

As I fastened the clasp on my sandals, someone knocked at the door. I took deep breaths on my way to the foyer. There was no reason to be nervous, and yet, tingles traveled the length of my spine as I unlocked the door and found Emrys on the other side, leaning his forearm against the doorframe.

"Good evening," he said, sliding his gaze over my body. Heat invaded my skin. Before, he was just a handsome guy. Now that he was clad in a white linen button-down and dark blue slacks, a commanding aura surrounded him.

I took a step toward him, and he smiled. Thin, barely-there lines formed in the corners of his eyes. I'd known enough fake people to know you could never smile like that if it weren't real.

"Hi," I returned the greeting, the tension in my shoulders melting. "I didn't know what to wear, so, well, a dress it is."

Emrys buried his hands in the pockets of his slacks as we descended the creaky porch steps. "People come to Marfolk to relax and leave their judgment at the town sign. And I love how the dress looks on you."

Just great. He must have thought I was fishing for compliments when all I did was be my usual weird self.

"The restaurant is nearby. Is walking there okay?" That he cared to ask made my heart soar.

"Walking's fine."

On the sidewalk, he walked closer to the road the way my dad did when we went out in the city. We passed a few houses that sat on well-manicured lawns, surrounded by towering trees. Emrys's house was the newest.

"So, you never told me what you were doing in Marfolk," he said.

A breeze ruffled my hair, and I tucked the curls behind my ear so they wouldn't stick to my gloss-covered lips. "I graduated a few days ago, so this vacation is my graduation present to myself. What about you?"

"Work. Hard to believe, I know. This place is too spectacular to spend your days staring at a laptop, but I didn't have a choice."

"Are you renting a house too?"

Emrys swung his head in a no. "It's mine. Bought it last year. And now we need to turn right."

As soon as we rounded the corner, the scenery changed. Stores and cafés with colorful awnings and flowers in the window boxes lined the narrow street. Emrys waved at the older man standing at the door of a bakery and slowed when my gaze lingered on him.

"If you ever want something great for breakfast, this is the place. They have the best muffins."

"Noted."

Judging by the number of people Emrys greeted on our way to the restaurant, he knew the entire town. He must spend a lot of time in Marfolk to know so many of its residents, but I had no clue how to ask him all the questions I had without seeming nosy.

As we neared the end of the street, I caught sight of the ocean ahead of us.

"We're almost there," Emrys said. "It's that restaurant across the street."

The establishment, The Wave, was facing the beach. Emrys led the way and opened the door so I'd go in first. As I crossed the threshold, his warm palm settled on my lower back.

It felt as if my skin was burning under the thin dress from a touch that only lasted a few seconds. My breath hitched, and goosebumps sprayed over my bare arms.

Oblivious to my over-the-top reaction, Emrys smiled at the server and turned his attention to me. "Would you like to sit here or on the terrace?"

Evening sunlight streamed into the restaurant through the square windows. I scanned the row of empty tables covered with white linen and the framed sea-themed paintings on the wall on my left. We'd see the ocean from here, but the terrace looked terrific. The sunset would be spectacular tonight, and the breeze was far more pleasant than the air conditioning.

I was taking too long to decide. Panic gripped me, and I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water to say the words, but no sounds came out.

Emrys touched my wrist. For the second time in under a minute, gooseflesh rose on my skin. He gently glided his thumb along the vein where blood pulsed with each frantic heartbeat.

"How about sitting outside first?" he said, continuing the slow, deliberate caress. "We can move inside if the wind is too strong."

He didn't get pissed at me for taking forever to make up my mind. Didn't roll his eyes and shift his weight, huffing as if to say someone couldn't possibly be so slow. He made a decision for both of us, but it felt as if it was mine because I did like the idea of sitting outside better. I just couldn't get the stupid sentence out of my mouth.

"Sure." I squeezed out the word, pretending to study my painted toenails.

Emrys dropped his hand from mine and took a step toward the French doors leading to the ample terrace. Again, he let me go through first.

"Can we sit anywhere?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course."

I skirted the table in the middle and walked to one by the white wooden railing, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean and the sunset. Having my strands tangled by the wind would be a small price to pay for the priceless view.

Emrys pulled a chair out for me and sat after I did, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth and his steepled hands under his chin.

"Do you like it here?" he asked.

"It's beautiful. I love the view."

"The food's just as great, especially the fish. But if you don't like seafood, they have meat and a ton of vegan dishes."

I traced a line along the edge of the table with my nail. "What if you just choose for both of us?"

Emrys slowly moved his head from side to side. "I'd rather you did. I'll ask for something different for myself so we can swap the dishes or share. Deal?"

A server entered the terrace, followed by a middle-aged couple.

"Mr. Delano," he said, placing two blue leather-bound menus in front of us. "Great to see you again. We've got a few new dishes. Let me know if you need help deciding."

Rys gave him a brief smile. "I will. Thank you, James."

After skimming the daunting menu, we opted for lemon herb tuna steaks and roasted beef tenderloin. Rys signaled to James and placed our order while I sat, toying with my bracelet. A few minutes later, the server brought a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured some into our glasses.

When he left, Emrys extended his hand. "May I?"

It took me a moment to realize he was asking permission to see the jewelry on my wrist.

"Oh. Yes, of course."

He touched the small stones with his thumb. "I noticed you playing with it. What's the name of the stone?"

"Turquoise. Not howlite," I said.

"What's the difference? Sorry in advance for my ignorance. I might ask you lots of stupid questions."

I smiled. "Howlite is an imitation. It's still good, but the stone is soft and way easier to scratch. Turquoise will last longer even if you wear it often. Don't think finding these at a reasonable price was easy. Lots of vendors assume people who make jewelry as a hobby don't know about the materials beyond the names and basic uses. Sometimes..."

What the hell was I doing? What guy would listen to someone rambling about gemstones? Brock only pretended he was listening at first. Then he stopped faking interest in my hobby.

Emrys circled my wrist with his large hand. "Sometimes? I don't mean to rush you; I was just wondering if they sold howlite pretending it was something else."

"At some markets," I said. "But it's hard to fool someone who knows the difference."

He reached for his wine glass but didn't let go of me. "Indeed. So... What did you study?"

"Fashion Design at Northcaster University. You?"

"Environmental Engineering at Bartley University and Tourism and Hospitality Management online."

"Both?"

Emrys smirked over the rim of his glass. "I'm a multitasker, I guess."

He took a drink and left his wine on the table. I'd missed the moment when he laced his fingers with mine, but they were intertwined now, and my hand was warm in his.

I should've removed it. But I felt better than I had in forever, and the conversation was too pleasant to break the spell.

He listened, and I'd forgotten what it was like to be heard.

So, what do you think about Rys, guys? I forgot what it was like to write a single POV, but with this book, a bit of mystery won't hurt. Were there sparks or not? He seems confident to me...Also, probably smart...maybe rich...

Don't forget about the star, and thanks for reading!