Page 10 of Four Dates and A Forever
Her eyes went into two tipsy, pissed off slits. “I was here first.”
“You had vacated the property when I arrived, then you joined me in the shower.”
“I didn’t join you! You were invading my house. You still are.”
He wasn’t sure where her mind had taken her, but her gaze wandered south, which he found interesting and unexpectedly arousing. “My eyes are up here, Red,” he teased, and her cheeks flamed—so did her temper.
“I don’t answer to that anymore.”
“How about Hot Stuff?”
“Why are you even in here?”
Because he nearly unmanned some bartender for looking at her too long. “Because the party is out there, and I wanted to give you some privacy. It looked like a pretty big turnout.”
There had to be thirty women out there, laughing and drinking and partying it up like it was New Year’s Eve in Times Square. Elsie, on the other hand, looked as if she were counting down the seconds for the night to end.
“Embarrassingly enough, half of them came hoping to get the juicy details on what really went down between me and Axel. The parts of the story that Axel hasn’t already shared with the world.”
He thought back to his brothers’ assessment of Axel’s character, then took in the raw anguish and humiliation in Elsie’s expression and wondered if maybe his brothers had a better read on the situation.
“The other half?” he asked, suddenly wanting to know more. Not the juicy details like the women in the other room, but the pieces of the story that made Elsie want to celebrate her divorce, when his had been one of the worst moments of his life.
“The other half made an appearance to ensure that if they ever needed a favor they could call me,” she said, anger thick in her tone.
“A favor?” he asked, confused.
“You know, like concert tickets or backstage passes, meet and greets.”
Ah, he did know. Had been there a thousand times. At first it felt good to have that kind of pull. After a while it got old, made people jaded. It was one of the reasons Rhett was so close with his brothers. He never had to question their motives. Which brought up another question. How could a woman who had a BS meter to rival Quantico suddenly turn a blind eye when there had clearly been red flags?
“Why invite them if they’re not your real friends?”
She lifted a single, sad shoulder. “I guess I’m slow on the uptake. Plus, how pathetic would a divorce party of one be?” She gave a self-deprecating roll of the eye. “Let me take that back. It’s not as tragic as I made it sound. In fact, I have some amazing friends. I just thought I had more of them than I actually do.”
“Divorce can do that. Divide loyalties right down the middle. But not everyone takes a side or has secret motives,” he said quietly. “I would have come to your party just for you.”
She really did look beautiful. He knew she was going for sexy when she picked out that black dress, and she was sexy as hell, but right then, with the lamp casting a golden glow over her face, she looked like an angel.
There was a long, tense silence as she considered his comment. He could see the uncertainty in her gaze as if she wasn’t sure she could believe him. He could also see the vulnerability and defeat shimmering in her eyes, as if her night had been a huge disappointment.
Rhett took a small step closer and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A jolt of sexual awareness shot up his arm and settled in his dick.
Well, shit.As if his life wasn’t already complicated enough.
She must have felt it too because she jerked back, bumping into the wall. Her eyes were as wide as martini glasses, her lips parted in disbelief. And horror. Then her chin went up and her expression morphed into pissy woman with an ax to grind.
She looked down at her sketches, which were out of order. “That doesn’t mean you get to look through my personal things.” She held them tightly to her chest. “These are private.”
“I didn’t mean to snoop.” She cocked a brow. “Okay, I didn’t set out to snoop. I saw it lying there, glanced at the top page.”
“The top page is page one not nine.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right.”
She shuffled through them. “And you got them out of order.” She meticulously righted the sketches—well as meticulous as one could be when they were three sheets to the wind.
“That wasn’t my intention. Curiosity won out. I’m sorry.”
