Page 253 of The Romance Adventure
“How’d you know?”
“You have the same satisfied look on your face.”
“I blame that shirt.”
“McGregor, what am I going to do with you?”
The corner of my lip lifts. “I can think of a few things.”
“And that’s our cue to leave. Goodbye, love birds,” Magnus says.
“Are the flamingos out?” Lally asks, looking around as they walk away.
Before I can dial up the charm a notch, the squealing of more football fans comes toward me like a cloud of locusts. Apparently, word has gotten out.
I know I’ve got it bad when all I can think about is Harley: Harley’s favorite foods and drinks, Harley at the beach, Harley’s clothing. Harley this, Harley that, Harley everything all the time.
“It’s selfie time,” one of the fans drones, making a kissy face toward me.
My gaze doesn’t leave Harley and the way the crochet knit halter top hugs her curves and highlights her sun-tipped shoulders with a smattering of freckles.
“Number fourteen, our favorite,” a second adds, draping herself over me.
My eyes locked on Harley, I hope she can read my mind this time. I want nothing to do with this situation with the fans.
The third woman hurls questions at me about my relationship status, Jayda, and everything that happened before and after the bachelor party. It feels very much like an inquisition when my single ambition in life right now is Harley’s attention.
But instead of a knowing smile of her understanding that this is part of my job and I no longer take any pleasure in it, her arms cross over her chest and she wears the sassiest, brattiest expression.
The three Riptide fans must sense the ice coming from her gaze despite the morning sun and they scuttle off.
“Did you want a coffee?” I ask.
“No.”
“Something to eat? Typically, Beans & Books has great muffins, pastries, and uh...” I trail off because she’s acting more annoyed than the lizard incident when she thought I’d pranked her.
Is she jealous of the attention those women were giving me? No way.
“I came into town to see if there are any doughnuts for everyone back at the house.”
I try to steer the conversation toward family stuff and away from fans. “Your sisters and their families arrived? I can’t believe they’re married with kids.”
“It’s really no big deal.” If her teeth were sharper, those words would’ve torn flesh.
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just—”
“Some people want to get married, have kids, and lead a simple life, Ryan. Is that so hard to believe?”
Tucking my chin back, I say, “Not at all. I think it’s cool. That’s not what I meant—”
“Well, you can take your famous life and go back to Miami for all I care.” At that, she marches toward the Treasure Chest.
“Their doughnuts aren’t very good,” I call.
Before she goes inside, a guy wearing sunglasses, baggy shorts, and a souvenir-style T-shirt stops her. It’s not Brando. It’s not one of my brothers. My hackles lift. I stalk over there in case it’s unwanted attention.
But she probably gets a lot of attention from all kinds of guys. I bet she’s dating someone back in Alabama right now. Someone who misses her, takes her on dates, and leaves her special treats like chocolate hearts and flowers.
