Bedding the Wrong Brother(47)

She saw the genuine regret on his face and felt it herself. She hated the idea of hurting Rhys or of him being mad at her, but she couldn't cave either. Not without some sort of explanation. “First, I want to know what you meant about me not having changed in twelve years.”

He hesitated briefly. “I meant the way you kissed Max in the gazebo, when I'd asked you to meet me there. I know it was a one-time thing, but I've always viewed that as you exchanging one Dalton twin for the other.”

Amazed, she straightened. “And how do you think I felt about Trisha? There I was, waiting for you for over an hour, thinking you were going to finally…and you were making out with her the whole time. I didn't exchange Max for you. He was just trying to make me feel better. That's why he kissed me. And I'm sorry if that bothers you, but given what you'd done, I don't think you have a right to point fingers at anyone.”

Rhys shook his head, confusion creasing his forehead. “What do you mean, I was making out with Trisha the whole time? I never made out with her.”

Abruptly hiking the blanket to her thighs, Melina jumped to her feet. “Why are you lying?”

Getting to his feet more slowly, Rhys strode past her and into his bedroom.

She watched him in disbelief. “Where are you—”

Before she could finish the question, he was back, pulling on a pair of shorts with stiff, jerky movements. “Did Max tell you I was making out with Trisha?”

She hugged her arms to her chest, not knowing what to think. “Yes. Are you telling me you weren't?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

She pulled the blanket tighter around her. “But why would Max lie?”

“I've got a pretty good idea.” Rhys threw his hands up in the air and began pacing. “No wonder he felt so bad afterward. Telling me it was nothing. That he'd initiated it. That I shouldn't let it stop me from telling you how I feel.” Coming to a stop, he pointed his finger at her for emphasis. “I sent Max out to tell you why I was late. I caught Trisha throwing up in the bathroom. Caught her making herself throw up. You know how obsessed she was with staying thin. Well, she freaked when I caught her. Thought I would tell her parents, and I sat down with her, telling her that's exactly what she should do. When she'd calmed down and finally agreed, I was walking her out when I saw you kissing Max. Then you just left. When I tried to talk to you, you—”

Shaking, Melina lowered herself to the couch. “I froze you out. I was so crushed, I didn't want to talk to you. Never wanted to talk about that night.”

Rhys dropped down next to her, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor between his feet.

“You said you had something you wanted to tell me that night. What was it?”

Rhys pressed his lips together. “I was going to ask you out.”

It was what she'd hoped, but to hear him verify it after all these years was almost too good to be true. “Out, out?”

A slow smile curved Rhys's lips. “Yes. Out, out.”

“So you liked me, liked me?” Melina knew she sounded like an idiot, but the ways things were going, she wanted things to be crystal clear.

“Yes,” Rhys said simply.

“I liked you, too. I still do,” she whispered.

Reaching out, he took her hand and squeezed. “Like me, like me?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“Do you still like me enough to give me a hug?”

She practically leaped into his arms, knocking him over so he fell back with her on top of him. Their mouths met for several long, deep kisses before she pulled back. “I want to ask you something,” she confessed, “but I'm afraid you'll get mad again.”

He hugged her closer. “I might, but I promise to stay calm and let you say what you need to.”

Reaching out, she traced his lips with a finger. Teasingly, he caught the tip of her finger in his teeth, making her giggle. Since the topic was obviously so important to him, however, she forced herself to be serious. “Do you really think people view you and Max as interchangeable? Anyone who knows you sees the differences between you.”

Smoothing his hands up and down her back, he said, “Yeah? And what differences do you see?”

“Max is less certain of himself, and he disguises it by acting cocky. It's why he sleeps with so many women, and why he jokes around so much. You're more introspective, more serious. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders because you care about people so much. Like what you told me about Trisha. You interrupted your own plans to talk with her. Max wouldn't have. Not that Max doesn't care, but he wouldn't have felt comfortable getting that close to someone's scars. He'd have helped her, but by grabbing one of us or your mother to talk to her.”