She glanced up, furiously blushing.
Abigail squinted, studying Jules’s every move. “I’m sorry. Have I missed something?”
Jules pulled her hat down and readjusted her sunglasses. “Nope. I don’t think so.”
Silence followed as Abigail stared.
Jules stabbed a strawberry garnish with her straw, mashing it against the bottom of the glass without acknowledging the way her sister’s gaze bored into her.
“Jules.”
“Hmm? What?” She could star in a commercial for this smoothie. She’d never found one more interesting in her life.
Dragging her chair closer, Abigail leaned in to whisper, “They’re real, aren’t they?”
“If they’re photos, they’re real.”
“You know what I mean.”
Suddenly, their waitress arrived with breakfast. Jules glanced at Rhys, but he gave no visible reaction. The man was a coffee-sipping, paper-reading shrine to minding his own business except when he sent her half-naked photos.
Abigail asked, dropping her voice even lower, “You slept with Rhys?”
“No,” Jules said between clenched teeth. “I didn’t sleep with him.” Yet. Yet? Definitely yet. Especially if he posed in bed with those dark eyes and perfect lips. It was definitely going to happen.
“But you have…something. Something happened.” Abigail jerked toward Rhys, who didn’t react, and spun back to Jules, her mouth gaping. “Oh my God. You have.”
“I have not.”
“You won’t look at me.”
She tipped her sunglasses down and bugged her eyes at her sister. “I’m looking straight at you, and you’re acting like a two-year-old.”
“I’m acting like your sister who knows things. Look, I don’t even like men, and I can objectively say Rhys is a stud.” She twisted in her chair again. “Did you hear that, Rhys? Stud. Super stud. Hot bodyguard stud.Studly.”
“Nope.” He turned the page of his newspaper. “Not hearing a word.”
Jules had heard every word and wanted to die. She cut her French toast with the side of her fork and chewed with more intention than she’d ever given a bite before.
Abigail pointed her fork at Jules’s neck. “You even have a hickey. Faint, but it’s there.”
Jules pressed her hand against the spot Rhys had paid particular attention to that morning. “I do not.”
Abigail cackled. “Nope, but you told on yourself.”
Jules stabbed another piece of French toast and unclamped her teeth to eat it. She’d tell Abigail all the details but couldn’t while sitting next to the thirst-trap stud himself. “You’ve seen the pictures. It’s no lie that we’ve hung out.”
“Hung out, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Rhys?” Abigail turned toward his table again. “Want to weigh in on this conversation?”
“Absolutely not.” He turned another page of the paper and never looked up.
Abigail snickered. “Okay. Fine. We’ll stop talking about you and Rhys.For now. What else have I missed?”
Thank God.“Margot, Sloane, and Scarlett are making a list of my ‘colleagues’ who might be unhinged enough to be Retire Guy.”
Abigail’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yup.” Breakfast tasted so much better when her sister wasn’t nosing into her private business. Jules dipped her next bite into the syrup then explained what had happened with the flowers and Vincent Von Charles. “Anyone can order flowers. But paying for rooms? That’s like paying for a paparazzi photo. Not cheap.”
