“So remember, you absolutely can’t tell them we’re living together.”

“Pretty sure I got that the first hundred times you told me,” I say, hugging her into my side as we wait for our bags in the baggage claim at the St. Louis airport.

The first time she warned me not to say anything about our impromptu living situation, I suggested we could at least tell her parents the reason why.

Prynne’s old roommate Caryn, and her boyfriend Eric used the money they made selling information about us to that sleazy website to finally accomplish their dream of living together. Or at least that’s what Caryn thought. Apparently, Eric, flush with half the money they had made, found living on his own “too liberating to be tied down.” When Prynne told me that they’d only made $10,000 in total, I had to laugh. That liberation of Eric’s should last about two months tops in this city. Unfortunately, it meant Caryn could come crawling back to move in, since she was still on the lease.

I was the one to suggest just moving in with me, since it was so strained living with her old foe. Prynne didn’t want to leave Shiloh in the lurch, which I understood. As it turned out, the man Shiloh had recently been seeing had suggested the same to her. It took a few weeks of them avoiding the issue before everything finally fell into place, each realizing they had been unnecessarily holding back from moving out to save the other. The next day they both started packing, leaving Caryn to handle covering the rent on her own. Something that her share of the money definitely won’t cover.

My nights at the Sexton with Prynne haven’t completely disappeared, though I no longer use Chris to hold a standing room for me. It’s more of a special occasion thing these days. All the better to keep the press on their toes, not that there’s much interest anymore. Our fifteen minutes of fame are officially up.

“Oh, and they definitely don’t know about the romance writing,” she adds. “So don’t mention that either.”

“You mean you don’t want your parents to know about what a success you were with the sultry adventures of Aiden and Mia?” I tease. “If the next one is as successful as that one, then Scarlett Hawthorne will have a bona fide career and then you’ll have no choice but to tell them.”

Much like the name Prynne, her pen name was an ode to wayward women of classic literature. Scarlett, of O’Hara infamy and Hawthorne in consideration of the surname of the man who penned her chosen name. Clever girl.

“Rhys!” she laughs, elbowing me in the side. “This is your first time meeting them. You have to be on your best behavior. That means no controversial topics.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” I say, saluting.

She laughs again and shakes her head.

“You’re that Flanders Flock girl, aren’t you?”

We both turn to see an older woman peering at Prynne with a conspiratorial grin. Prynne flashes back a strained smile. Apparently, there are still a few minutes left to our fame here in Missouri.

“I am indeed one of the Flanders Flock family,” she replies.

“Oh, I knew it!” the woman says, turning to the man next to her and slapping him on the arm. “I was just telling him that I thought I recognized you, and here you are out in the wild.”

“You caught me!” Prynne chirps, her smile becoming even more plastic.

“You two movin’ to Missouri?” The woman asks, pronouncing Missouri with an “ah” at the end.

“No.”

“No.”

We both reply at the same time and catch each other’s eye, holding back our laughs.

“I’m just here for a visit,” Prynne explains.

“I’m finally meeting the folks,” I chime in.

“Whoo hoo,” the woman crows with an impressed look on her face, then she chuckles. “What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for that one.”

Now, I’m the one with the tight smile. This kind of pressure I don’t need.

“You know, when I saw those photos floatin’ around on the internet I says to myself, now there’s a woman who loves her man and ain’t afraid to let the world know.”

Prynne coughs in surprise next to me.

“That she does,” I say wriggling my eyebrows, which makes the woman sing with laughter and causes Prynne to elbow me in the side.

“I’ll bet you think we’re all a bunch of prudes out here, doncha?” she says pursing her lips at me. “Well, I’ll tell ya, I was young and carefree once myself. If they had that whole internet thing when Richard and I were your age, there’d be plenty of stuff floatin’ around that woulda landed me in trouble with my folks too.”

“I’ll bet,” I tease. “You look like you were a little minx back in the day.”

“Oh, look at you!” she sasses, actually slapping me on the arm. Then she gives me a pert smile. “And who said anything about back in the day. I’ll have you know, Richard and I still—”

“I think I see our bags, Harriet,” Richard interrupts, tugging at her arm to drag her away.

I grin as I watch them go, the woman wriggling her fingers in goodbye. “That’s us in fifty years, Prynne. Take a good look.”

“You mean still airing our dirty business to the world?”

“Thoroughly embarrassing our grandkids while we’re at it.”

“Grandkids? Haven’t you missed a few steps there?”

I know what I said, and I meant it. Grandkids. Lots of them. With Prynne.

“Well, I suppose I should meet your parents first.”

“I think that would be a good idea,” she says, smiling up at me with big brown eyes. The hair is still blonde since she’s grown to like it that way, though we’ve definitely experimented with a few other colors just for fun.

We get our bags and have the keys to our rental car and I’m mapping out the route on the GPS while Prynne continues to rattle on, getting more and more nervous about this.

“There are a lot of them. You’re caught up on the show so you know this. But it may be a bit overwhelming in person.”

“I’m prepped and ready,” I say pumping both fists.

She smiles and rolls her eyes. “The family did one trip to New York for a special on Good Morning America, but for most of them that’s it as far as leaving Missouri. They’re not complete bumpkins, so don’t start thinking that. They’re just…very traditional.”

“Is that why you’ve got this whole Little House on the Prairie thing going on?” I say, eyeing the white blouse and skirt that reaches almost to her ankles.

She laughs. “Is that the vibe I give off?”

“Yeah, and I’m totally feeling it for some reason.”

“Does that make you the big bad rancher who’s come to ravish me?”

I raise one eyebrow suggestively.

She laughs. “Would I seem so innocent if I were to actually show a little leg?” she says lifting her skirt so that I can see her calf. “I think this would be scandalous back then, no?”

“You’re practically a Jezebel,” I say.

“How about this?” she says lifting it far enough to show off her knees.

“Brazen hussy.” Though I do have to admit, something about this puritanical naughtiness has my blood rushing to my dick.

“And this?” She says, bringing her hands up to undo the top button of her blouse.

“Lady Godiva has nothing on you, my dear.” I lean in with a wicked grin. “Are you trying to get me in trouble in your home state?”

“You’re already trouble, Rhys. That’s why I love you.”

“Maybe come up with a slightly more palatable reason when you tell that to your parents.”

Her gaze softens. “They already know.”

That’s it right there. That look. Those words. Long after the fun and games are over, this is why I love falling asleep with her in my arms and waking up to her face next to mine on the pillow.

“I guess, now it’s my turn to convince them I feel the same.”

“We wanted to meet you first, before the rest of the family came up to visit.” Prynne’s Dad looks at me with an expression that’s both grim and resigned. As if I didn’t already know I’m not exactly his first choice as far as a future son-in-law goes.

It took exactly one dinner for my mother to fall in love with Prynne and Dad to formally approve. Literally. He actually said “I approve, son,” right there at the table. Prynne later told me that I make so much more sense to her after meeting them.

We’re in the living room of the same large house I’m familiar with from old episodes of the TV show. Prynne and I sit on the couch while her parents stare back at us from two armchairs.

“Our daughter has certainly been singing your praises,” her mother says with a forced smile.

Prynne reaches out a hand to take mine as if to acknowledge that fact.

“Of course, we still have our reservations,” her father says, looking grim as ever. “As you might imagine.”

“Daddy,” Prynne says, sounding slightly exasperated. I can only imagine what the many trips she’s taken here on her own have been like. If this is her father after being softened up by her, he must have been hard as granite during those first few visits.

“How exactly do you expect us to react, Prynne? I guess that’s what we’re officially calling you now,” he says, getting heated. “Any man who would force you to do something like what I saw in those photos—”

“He didn’t force me! I wanted to. And how many times do I have to say sorry about that?”

This is going completely off the rails.

“Sir,” I say. Thankfully I have the kind of voice that commands attention. Both Prynne and her father break the angry stares they have for one another to focus on me. “I understand that you’re upset at what you saw online and probably don’t think too highly of me right now. I can’t even imagine how I’d react if I saw my daughter doing the same thing. And yes,” I turn to Prynne and add, “I do plan on having children with your daughter one day.”

Prynne captures her bottom lip between her teeth and I see her eyes begin to glisten with tears. A soft sound between a sigh and a squeak comes from somewhere in the vicinity where her mother is sitting. When I turn back to her father, he seems about one degree cooler than he was before.

“That said, I don’t think we’re that different in what we both want for your daughter. It’s the same thing that I’d want for my own children. I want her to be happy and feel safe and secure and respected and…loved. And I provide that for her,” I turn to Prynne and smile, “at least I hope I do.”

Prynne squeezes my hand tightly, assuring both me and her parents that I do.

“I think that’s just lovely,” Her mother says, her smile definitely no longer forced.

“Those are all fine words to say, but actions still speak louder than words,” her father says in a gruff tone that belies the fact that I may have moved him at least an inch closer to my camp.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to see it, because I’m not going anywhere.”

Prynne and I both squeeze each other’s hand at the same time.

One small step.

Meeting the rest of the family is as overwhelming as Prynne said it would be. All the more so since she and I are “infamous” and have drawn the curiosity of the various in-laws and in-laws of in-laws (of which there are too many to count). It literally feels like that part of the Bible I remember reading which is just various verses of who begat whom. The TV crew wandering around makes it all the more crazy. Now that Prynne and I are out of the closet, so to speak, we both signed releases to be filmed during this reunion of sorts, which I’m sure the audience will eat up.

“So, this is the bad boy that my twin sister scandalized the family with.” Hope does look exactly like a brunette version of Prynne. Despite this, there’s definitely a softer edge to her that I find wholesome and appealing. I can see how they ended up living two different lives.

“I guess word has finally spread about me,” I say with a grin.

She laughs. “Oh, you and I are going to have fun. I’ve got so many tales to tell.”

“Hope!” Prynne says, even though she’s laughing.

“I’ve got a few of my own,” I say, playing along.

“Rhys!” she says, slapping my arm.

I’m beginning to think it may not be so bad being part of the Flanders Flock.