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Maybe I should have chosen different words because every woman acts horrified.
“Did he say that to you?” Carson spews, her face burning with anger.
Shit, I have to shut this down.
“No! I mean, not in those words. But I did make a move, and it didn’t work out so well.”
All my dignity hits the ground as gasps fill the small space. Shayla is the only one who looks satisfied.
“Proud of you, girl,” she toasts, holding her drink in the air.
“I crashed and burned. That’s not even an appropriate description. I humiliated myself.”
“Humility can be a good thing.” She is undeterred. “I’m assuming that’s what happened at the bar?”
“Sick my ass. How did we miss this?” Jewls asks Harley casually as if my embarrassment isn’t a factor.
“I don’t know, but Shayla has a point. One of my most awkward situations with Achilles led him to tell me he loved me. Maybe this is a good thing.” Harley’s eyes twinkle as they always do when she talks about her husband.
“Gah, don’t do that sappy shit. You’ll scare the woman.” Jewls pretends to gag.
“Umm, I’m already a little freaked at the direction of this entire conversation.”
Carson’s gaze passes over my shoulder. “Thank fuck she changed.”
“What did you say to her?” Addie says low.
“Told her this was a family party and not a photo shoot poolside in LA. She needed to haul her ass inside and change.”
“She’s sulking.”
I step back from the circle, catching Tera coming our way. Her prance is gone, her expression definitely unhappy.
“Hang in there, Rowan, and trust us. Ford does not think you’re a victim. The way he looks at you tells a much different story.”
I dare search around the area, finding him in between Talon and Major. Like earlier, his gaze is locked on me.
In the last few minutes, he must have been in the pool because his dark hair is slicked back, water droplets clinging to his skin. My eyes travel over his hard body, stopping at the tattoos that stand out against the smattering of dark hair. The intricate and beautiful Celtic cross that sits close to the series of dates. The same identical numbers are inked on all four men, symbolizing dates they walked away safely from their missions. My gaze roams lower, admiring the contours and ripples of his muscular build. The distended skin on his side snaps me back to reality, remembering how he got the scar.
I try to look away, but he catches my eyes once more. His chin does a quick jerk, as if he reads my mind, telling me to forget my thoughts.
Then he does something that sets my heart speeding and butterflies swarming out of control.
His lip curls to one side and he winks.
“Not interested my ass,” Carson whispers, nudging my side. “Now, let’s party.”
6
FORD
Victim… replays on a loop in my mind.
The minute the word slipped from her lips, a fire ignited low in my gut. It took all my control not to stalk to her. Then she caught my eye, the heat in her gaze roaming my body, the slight flinch at my scar. I knew the caveman act wouldn’t go over well.
It’s been three hours since she arrived. Three hours of torment watching her with all the women. The simple black bikini hugging her curves and calling to me.
Temptress.
