He needed to keep his wits about him. Didn’t want to get so drunk out of his mind he’d stumble back to the villa and make an ass of himself. He’d done enough of that to leave a more-than-lasting impression on Gabriella.
If she was smart, she’d keep him at arm’s distance for the rest of their short stay on the island. If he was smart, he’d apologize and beg her forgiveness.
Never in his life had he been accused of being particularly smart.
“Is this seat taken?” a sweetly sultry voice suddenly asked from behind.
Turning, he was about to say he was leaving but the words stuck in his throat. Gabriella stood in front of him, wearing a pale yellow strappy sundress that showed off her sun-kissed skin, her eyes full of worry though her smile was bright.
He’d done that to her, put the unease in her gaze. And he hated that.
“Hey. I was, uh, just headed back,” he said lamely.
She settled onto the barstool next to his, ordering a drink when the bartender approached. Rhett studied her, marveled for about the thousandth time over her beauty, her serene composure, her ability to both calm his soul and send a riot of nerves racing through his belly simultaneously.
The effect she had on him was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
“I worried about you,” she murmured, settling her elbows on the edge of the counter before she turned to face him. “You didn’t answer your phone.”
“I didn’t realize you called.” He’d turned down the volume on his phone, not wanting to deal with any of his problems, like his life. Acting the coward and running away from his troubles as he was prone to do.
Yet here she was, in his face and reminding him that he needed to do the right thing.
Like face his problems and apologize for being a jerk.
“Are you still angry?” she asked.
“You want the truth?” She deserved it.
“Of course I do.” Reaching out, she settled her hand over his, so small and fragile compared to his. “I always want you to be honest with me, Rhett.”
Sighing, he turned his hand palm up, interlacing their fingers together for the briefest moment before he let go. He needed that connection, had found himself growing more dependent on it as each day passed.
It was exhilarating, his need for her. And also terrifying.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He kept his apology direct and to the point.
Ella shrugged. “You were mad,” she said simply.
“More at myself than you—and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“I’m still standing, right?” She offered him a quick smile.
The bartender reappeared, drink in hand. He set it in front of Ella with a little flourish and a flirty smile. Rhett glared at him for a long, silent moment before the guy got the hint and left.
“That was rude,” she chastised once the bartender was out of earshot.
“He was looking at you.”
“Is that such a crime?” She was oblivious.
“He was trying to flirt with you.” And it offended the hell out of Rhett, since clearly they were sitting together and everyone should assume they were a couple.
Though they weren’t, not really. She could flirt with whoever she wanted. He didn’t own her.
Jealousy set his skin on fire. The mere thought of her flirting with someone, of being touched, kissed by another man…
Possessiveness overwhelmed him so completely he was near compelled to grab hold of her and tell her she belonged to no other.