Pushing His Luck - Rhyannon Byrd Page 0,11

the water, the low-hanging sun painting the sky in iridescent shades of orange and pink. Weirdly, it even felt like he was actually staring up at them a few times, watching her sit and sip wine with Natalie while they talked about how excited they were to see the upcoming Michael Fassbender movie, which was just crazy. Not the Fassbender part, because the guy was not only gorgeous, but an incredible actor. No, the crazy part was thinking that Paul would be paying her any attention at all. Hell, he’d never even bothered to apologize, which meant, in her book, that everything had played out exactly as he’d meant for it to and he was a Grade-A bastard.

Unfortunately, he was a bastard who still set her heart racing and made butterflies dance in her belly. But just because fate and hormones were faithless bitches didn’t mean she couldn’t shoot them the finger and tell them to fuck off. Which was exactly what she planned on doing, until she eventually stopped reacting to the sight of Paul Cartwright like some crushed-out teeny bopper with hearts in her eyes.

When the guys finally started heading back in, Natalie hugged her goodbye and made Karin promise to call her to let her know if she could do breakfast with her and Sophie on Friday. She started to move to her feet so she could walk Nat to the door, but her friend just smiled and put her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll let myself out. You just sit here and relax and watch the waves.”

Her lips curled with a grateful smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

Refusing to torture herself by watching Paul strip out of his wetsuit and towel off, Karin leaned her head back and closed her eyes, focusing on the roaring crash of the surf, the salty scent of the ocean breeze—one of her favorite things about living at the beach—and the faint music she could hear coming from one of the other condos.

“Hey, Rin.”

She flinched at the sound of Paul’s deep voice, but didn’t open her eyes right away, foolishly hoping that it was just her imagination playing tricks on her. But, no, the moment she cracked her eyelids open and peeked, he was standing right there at her balcony, which sat only a few feet off the beach. At what had to be nearly six-three or six-four, the jerk was tall enough that he could brace his arms on the balcony’s wrought-iron railing, his wet hair slicked back from his unfairly handsome face, dark eyes locked in hard and tight on her flushed one.

For a moment, she could only stare back at him like a mute, helplessly drinking in the breathtaking sight of his beautiful body and rugged features. He was still shirtless, his golden, tattooed skin stretched tight over his broad shoulders, chest and ripped abs, the position of his arms only highlighting his powerful biceps and corded forearms, the heavy veins pressing up beneath his skin attesting to what incredible shape he was in. From that close, he was so freaking sexy it was unreal. And had she already mentioned unfair?

She still hadn’t said anything, so she took a quick sip of her wine and choked out a quiet, “Um…hey.”

Wow. She didn’t think it was possible, but at her less-than-enthusiastic greeting, he looked even more uncomfortable than before. Gorgeous, yeah—but there was no mistaking how uneasy he was to be talking to her. Still, he coughed to clear his throat, and asked, “Do you… Can we talk?”

Sitting up in the rattan chair, she pulled her thin black cardigan tighter across her front with her free hand, painfully aware of her wind-tossed hair and make-up-free face, and said, “It’s, um, not a good time. I need—”

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he cut in, obviously realizing she was about to make a run for it, “but I need to apologize for how I acted.”

She shook her head, looking down at her bare feet, focusing intently on her red-painted toenails. “Hardly,” she said tightly, wondering why he’d felt compelled to do this now, after so many freaking weeks of silence. “I don’t need to hear it, Paul. What’s done is done.”

“Rin.”

She flinched at hearing the shortened version of her name again. He’d used the nickname for the first time on the night they’d kissed, and now it was nothing but a painful reminder of her idiocy, making her chest feel tight. “Please, don’t.”

“I was a dick.”

When he didn’t say anything more,