“I wonder who she got that from,” Gareth muttered, busy with his phone again. He’d had a decade of practice pushing Hazel out of his mind, so it came easily to him.
Shit, maybe he could give him some tips? Because Connor didn’t know how to get rid of Rachel. To live a normal life again, he needed to stop thinking about her!
“Hello.”
Great, now he could hear her voice.
“Hey, guys, our goat’s thirsty from the walk, don’t mind us.”
“Hi, Hailey,” Ada said, flashing a smile at someone behind Connor. “And I don’t know who you are…”
A laugh rang out, making the hairs on the back of Connor’s neck stand up. “I’m Rachel.”
Fuck.
He didn’t even want to turn around. He didn’t want to see her and be reminded that everything about her made him weak. This, although anyone who knew him would claim that weak wasn’t even part of his vocabulary. But now that he knew how she not only looked soft, but felt soft too... that she played as dirty as he did and enjoyed it... that she was so ridiculously intelligent that he had to work hard to keep up with her... Shit. A woman he disliked so much shouldn’t be so damn attractive.
But even Gareth glanced at the new arrivals, so it would seem odd to just ignore them. Reluctantly, Connor turned in his chair and looked up. In the shade of the palm trees on the Sunny Umbrella’s terrace stood Hailey, Rachel, and Sir Bleat-a-lot. Sure, Hailey had named the goat Scotland-Beard, but it bleated so damn often that this name was more fitting.
The goat wasn’t really the interesting part right now because, while he couldn’t ignore Rachel, she apparently could ignore him.
She was wearing one of those damn summer dresses again that gave men and the wind stupid ideas. It had a moderate neckline and reached down to her knees. But it was red and clung tightly to her torso, and his brain didn’t need much encouragement to replay the images from Friday night anyway.
Shit, he had to pull himself together! They were two adults who had had a one-night-stand, just casual, non-real sex. The situation had no novelty value for him. Even if it had never pissed him off so much that a woman smiled at everyone else, but skipped him as if he were nothing more than a hole in the ground.
“Ah, you’re Maddie’s sister,” Ada concluded. Her father definitely told her too much. “I’m Ada, and that’s my dad over there.” She pointed at Cian, who dutifully spoke up.
“Guilty as charged. Nice to meet you, Rachel.” Smiling broadly, Cian stood up to shake her hand. “I’ve been dying to meet you for a week.”
Rachel took his hand and...shit, was she blushing? Because Cian was smiling at her? Connor knew that most women responded like that to Cian’s charm, and normally, it didn’t bother him, but... his friend should sit back down on this one, damn it.
“Is that so? I’m really not that interesting.” Nervously, she tucked her dark hair behind her ears.
“Oh, yes, you are,” Cian assured her. Why was the asshole still holding her hand? “I just had to know who managed to conjure up so many shades of red on Connor’s pretty face!”
“Wait.” Of course, now Gareth was joining the conversation. “Is this the betting woman?”
“Her name is Rachel, Uncle Gareth,” Ada said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He smiled brusquely. “Hi, Rachel. I’m Gareth. Thanks for tormenting Connor. Cian and I sometimes forget our duty to punch his ego into shape, so a helping hand is much appreciated.”
Yep, now Rachel wasreallyblushing, but she still wasn’t looking at him. “I’m not tormenting him.”
Oh, she had no idea. Not that he’d admit that to the idiots who called themselves his best friends. And he certainly wouldn't admit it to her. But the whole Friday night had left him...confused. It had been too much fun. Even the non-sex part. It had been fun in a way he couldn’t even describe. The evening had felt familiar and comfortable, but at the same time, it had been charged and terribly tense.
“Ah, don’t be so modest, Rachel,” Hailey said with a grin as she untied Scotland-Beard from its leash and Cian sat back down.
The baby goat bleated happily, then fixed its gaze on him and ran at him, ramming its head against his knee.
He sighed heavily. He’d wandered over to Match Me! too many times in the last few weeks. Scotland-Beard had apparently mistakenly accepted him as part of its pack. And pack members apparently turned their butts to poop precisely an inch from his shoes. The goat looked at its handiwork with satisfaction and then turned to the water bowls Tara had set up for dogs.
Fantastic.
Ada giggled, and Cian didn’t bother to hide his chuckle.
“Oh, that’s a compliment,” Hailey said sagely. “He only does that to people he feels comfortable with, and he may not be a great judge of character, but he does have a weakness for nice shoes.”
“And Hugo Boss. Obviously,” Gareth said absentmindedly.
