Page 65 of Over the Limit

I grit my teeth.

For a woman who didn’t give a fuck if women hit on Rossi, I sure as hell do when it comes to Lachlan.

But why?

“He’s even got you staring,” Monica teases as we both study him unabashedly.

But while she’s mentally cheering the small touch of Lach’s hand to Zola’s back as he hands her a glass of champagne, my entire body is tensing from it.

He’s a gentleman. I know that firsthand. And so he’s simply doing gentlemanly things.

But that doesn’t make watching the two of them together any easier for me.

“They make a beautiful couple, don’t they?” Monica asks as we both study them from behind our sunglasses.

“They do.” The words feel like poison on my tongue.

“Lachlan,” Monica calls out. His smile is automatic but his body freezes when he sees me sitting there with her. And then a slow, catlike smile crawls over his lips.

Jesus. My insides twist in the most deliciously jealous way.

Lach excuses himself from Zola and the circle of people around them and moves toward us. His eyes hold mine before moving back to Monica’s . . . and that glance alone has me sitting taller.

“Ladies.” He kisses Monica on both cheeks before doing the same to me.

I’m hit with the sandalwood scent of his cologne. With the feel of his hand against my lower back. With the slightest exhale to know my nearness affects him just as much as his does mine.

“You two are acquainted, yes?” Monica asks Lachlan as she looks back and forth between us.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, Blair,” Lachlan says.

“It has. Like, what? Fourteen days?” I ask.

Lachlan’s eyes widen and nostrils flare ever so slightly as a smile ghosts his lips. “Something like that. Good to know you were counting.”

“Always.” I lift my flute of champagne and turn back toward Monica to explain. “We shared a golf cart ride.”

“We did,” Lach adds.

“And now you’re here with Zola. She said your dinner date was incredible last night.”

He smiles and nods without responding.

“So does that mean I’ll be seeing more of you around here?” Monica asks.

“Lachlan?” Zola asks from her place across the deck, her eyes darting from her mother to Lachlan and then back. “Come. I want to introduce you to somebody.”

Lachlan nods and stands. “I’ll catch up with you ladies more in a while.”

“No need, darling,” Monica says. “Please enjoy your time.”

A fleeting glance is all I get from Lachlan as he walks away. Why do I hate that so much?

Because I already care about him. That’s the truth of it.

My head hurts. Too many glasses of champagne on a stomach that can’t tolerate food right now. Because all I’ve done is watch. Let’s be real here, and pine.

It’s not his fault she wants him. I understand that because I do too.