Page 86 of Rhodes

“Holy shit. How is it two in the morning?”

“Because Grandbank made us listen to the entire story about meeting Sophia Loren, which must have gone on for over an hour. We all lost half the night,” I say.

There are only six of us left on the terrace now. The remains of the night are scattered across the table between us. There are empty glasses, two bottles of wine, a plate with three lonely olives on it, and a bowl of something nobody has touched in at least an hour. Everyone else disappeared gradually. Daddy went first. Reeves and Charli followed. Banksie lasted longer than I expected after the hike, but even he gave up sometime around midnight.

Rhodes is still here.

He has been sitting across from me for the better part of two hours, which should not be notable considering I have spent thousands of hours in rooms with Rhodes Stone.

Tonight, though, I know exactly where his foot is. His ankle rests against mine beneath the table. Luckily, nobody can see it. He moved it there twenty minutes ago and hasn't moved it since.

I take another sip of water and keep listening while Birdie argues with Kate about whether we're getting breakfast together tomorrow.

Rhodes's foot slides higher. I almost choke. His eyes meet mine across the table, and the bastard doesn't even smile. I press the inside of my sandal against his shin. His eyebrow moves.

Last night, we were apparently capable of pretending one time would get whatever this is out of our systems. We were idiots, clearly.

“I'm going to bed,” Kate announces. “If anyone speaks to me before ten, I'll become violent.”

Birdie checks her phone again. “Make it eleven.”

They both stand. I pull my foot away from Rhodes before the table shifts, and somebody catches us playing footsie like teenagers.

Libba is nowhere around to notice anything. She slipped away about twenty minutes ago, claiming she was going to the restroom, and never returned. Normally I'd be annoyed. Tonight, it's a gift.

Birdie hugs me from behind my chair. “Come on. Walk with us.”

“I'm not quite ready. I'll be fine. Y’all go ahead.”

She releases me. “You sure?”

I nod, glancing at the mess on the table. “I'm going to pick some of this up so the Italians don't think all Americans are sloths.”

Rhodes looks at me, but I refuse to look back.

Wade snorts. “You're a better person than me.”

Birdie kisses the top of my head. “Goodnight, Mother Teresa.”

Rhodes laughs into his glass. I kick him under the table. He catches my foot between both of his before I can pull it away, and heat shoots straight up my leg.

Wade and Birdie are already halfway down the stone path, still arguing over breakfast. I can't see them any longer as their voices fade between the villas.

That leaves Rhodes, me, and two Stone cousins I hardly knew before this trip, Cam and Heartly, at the far end of the terrace. They've moved on to debating SEC football with enough passion that we could probably set the table on fire without distracting them.

Rhodes lets my foot go.

“You're cleaning?” he asks.

“Apparently.”

“I'll help.”

Cam looks over. “You two are suspiciously domestic.”

My heart gives one hard kick. Rhodes doesn't miss a beat.

“You should see her with a garbage disposal.”