Worth the Challenge (Worth It 3)

No siblings, no family, just her father as the one constant person in her life, made for a lonely childhood. And that loneliness had bled into adulthood as well.

The realization made her sad. She longed to change those past mistakes, no matter how ridiculous the wish. So if she couldn’t rectify the past, she certainly could allow more people into her life in the future. In the present.

Now.

Tessa seemed to genuinely like her. So did Rhett…but in a different way.

His gaze met hers now, warm and open, downright wicked even, if she allowed her imagination to run wild. He nodded toward the dishes spread out before them, the waiter having just dropped them off. “Take your pick.”

It all smelled divine but truthfully, she had no idea what she was looking at. “They’re like little pieces of art.”

“Mmm, I can’t wait.” Tessa reached forward with a pair of chopsticks, snatching up a roll of some sort with ease. She popped it in her mouth. “Delicious.”

“Ladies don’t speak with their mouths full,” Rhett chastised fondly, earning an eye roll for his remark. “Try one before she eats them all,” he said to Gabriella.

“What is it?” The outer layer was almost translucent. She could see a variety of vegetables within and the fragrant scent emanating from the plate was heavy with spice.

“Spring rolls with shrimp. You like seafood?”

Ella nodded, picking up her chopsticks and mimicking what she’d seen them do. Breaking the wooden chopsticks apart, she rubbed the sticks together, her gaze locked on Rhett’s hand. He used the chopsticks with such ease, his fingers deft, his movements precise as he plucked a spring roll from the plate.

She held the chopsticks in her right hand, her index finger poised just so. The sticks clattered to the table.

Heat suffused her cheeks. She’d not tried much Asian food. Her father had never enjoyed it and she’d allowed his preferences to influence her.

If she was being honest, she’d let him influence her far too much.

“There’s an art to it,” Rhett said, his voice gentle. “Want some pointers?”

Lifting her head, she met his gaze, her mouth going dry. He was so close, his head bent toward her, his expression open, manner easy, more like what she remembered from a few nights ago. Such a difference from the man she’d met with at the Worth building, stiff, like he’d been afraid to make any sort of misstep and screw the whole thing up.

She could relate.

“I think if I want to eat, I definitely need pointers,” she finally said.

“Here.” Picking up the dropped stick, he pointed them at her and she took them. “Hold them like this.” He demonstrated with his right hand.

Ella readjusted the sticks, fumbling with them, and she silently cursed. Could she look more ridiculous? “Maybe they could bring me a fork,” she said weakly.

“Here.” He reached for her, his hand wrapping around hers, forcing her grip around the chopsticks with his fingers. A zing moved through her at his touch, sharp and bright, leaving her breathless. Dizzy. “Like this.”

She pressed the chopsticks with the tips of her fingers, watched in amazement when they moved like they were supposed to. Rhett dropped his hand from hers and feeling brave, she reached for one of the spring rolls.

And picked it up with ease, bringing it to her mouth triumphantly.

“See? I knew you could do it,” he said, his gaze dropping to her lips just as she shoved the spring roll into her mouth.

Mortification rose up swiftly, making her feel like an idiot. Her appetite disappeared with every chew. Rhett Worth didn’t spend time with women who thrust food down their throats and didn’t know how to use chopsticks. And they certainly weren’t in need of a radical makeover or a new wardrobe.

Surely his type of woman was a gorgeous, impeccable sophisticate who would make Ella look like a gauche, untried girl.

Ugh. She swallowed and set her chopsticks on the edge of her plate. She wasn’t that much of a failure. He did, after all, kiss her.

For about two seconds before he shoved her out of the cab.

“You didn’t like it,” Rhett said. A statement, not a question either.

“I—” She couldn’t remember how it tasted, too worried over what he might think of her. “It was good,” she lied.