I turned to leave, pretending I had no awareness of Henry’s presence, despite being invaded by the heavenly scent of whatever aftershave he’d splashed all over his tanned, toned skin—the very skin I tried to pretend wasn’t standing in front of me as I strode past him with my chin raised and my focus dead ahead.
You’re the last thing I want right now.
Yeah, you have a funny way of showing it, pal.
If he wanted to be everywhere I went, I’d make his life as miserable as he was making mine. Henry could watch me walking away in my turquoise two-piece string bikini. He could watch my dancer’s arse sway as I sauntered away from him withease. He could take note of the French plait I’d gone to the effort of putting my hair into that morning, and he could bathe in the wake of the citrus perfume I’d drowned myself in, too.
I could play as dirty as the next guy, especially if the next guy turned out to be him.
Despite my best efforts, though, I didn’t make it very far before I heard him following me, not letting me escape his suffocating cloud of perfection.
The rat bastard.
I walked over to my sun lounger, kicked back on it, and took a quick drink of my water, then slid it beneath the sunbed to keep it in the shade, all while pretending I hadn’t noticed arrogant Henry taking a seat on the lounger beside me, his elbows resting on his thighs as he clasped his hands together and simply… waited.
His intense gaze pierced me, so I gave my body a little shuffle to make myself more comfortable, hoping he noticed every fleck of my skin and the way the sun lotion bounced from it, creating minuscule diamonds the sun couldn’t help but caress.
Oh, yeah. I could play this game if he wanted me to, and I’d play it with my eyes closed to drown him out.
It had been far too long since I’d felt confident enough to do anything like this, and even though Henry hated me, I couldn’t deny that he brought something out in me that made me want to fight back instead of laying down and taking his shit.
That fire in my belly excited me.
I’d missed it over the years.
“You’re here alone,” Henry eventually said, the richness of his deep voice washing over me.
“Mmhmm.”
“Where are Bailey and Rhea?”
“Don’t know,” I lied.
“Do you always spend so much time on your own?”
“Yep.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Okay,Dad.”
“Are you being surly on purpose?”
A shrug of my shoulders and a soft exhale were my surly responses.
“Phoebe?”
I kept my eyes closed, despite wanting to turn towards him and look at his stupidly gorgeous, arrogant face. Every time he said my name, it did something to me I couldn’t explain. I’d been with Rob for years, and his voice never made the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright the way Henry’s did.
“Phoebe, look at me.”
For some ungodly reason, I did exactly as he asked. The moment my eyes met his, my skin flared to life with more goosebumps again.
I hated how attractive I found him.
We stared at each other far too long for it to feel natural, until Henry leaned forward as though he wanted the moment to be between us and nobody or nothing else. Not the birds flying by, the insects chirping in the greenery, or the wandering eyes of those close by.
“I wanted to say I was sorry about last night,” he said quietly.
