Much Ado About You(51)

“Shh.” He shook his head at me, and I bristled, trying to calm. He obviously didn’t want anyone else to know.

“It’s not okay,” I repeated.

It was so not okay, I wanted to march out of the pub and hunt the handsy cow down and teach her some manners!

“I know.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “That’s why I asked her to leave.”

“Has she tried that before?”

Roane shook his head. “She’s been persistently flirtatious these last few weeks, but I haven’t done anything to encourage her. She’s just . . . determined.”

“I’m going to kick her ass,” I snapped.

His gaze sharpened. “Why?” He bent his head toward me until our noses were almost touching. “Because she dared to touch me without permission . . . or because she dared to touch me?”

The word “dared” seemed to reverberate between us because the look in his eyes . . . He was daring me to speak the truth.

To admit I was jealous. Territorial. Possessive of him.

Suddenly all the air in the room seemed to go out.

“Knocking back another offer, Roane?” Milly’s voice suddenly cut through to us.

I leaned away from him, trying to catch my breath, and he shot Milly a barely concealed look of annoyance.

The pub owner took the empty seat on my left, and I glanced around. Dex had disappeared from our table, and the one next to it was entirely female. Milly and Viola; Bobby Hopeton’s wife, Hazel; Lottie Mulhern, who was a good friend of Milly’s; and Caro and me. They were all staring at Roane. Dex was up at the bar with the men, having taken over serving for Milly.

“What?” Roane asked, clearing the scowl from his brows.

Milly chuckled. “That gorgeous brunette was practically in your lap.” Her gaze flicked to me and then back to Roane. “Can’t believe you passed that up.”

“Milly, don’t start.”

“We’re just looking out for you,” Hazel threw in. “We want to see you settled. And you’ll never get settled being as choosy as you’re being.”

A new indignation began to heat my blood.

“Didn’t you say you knew someone you thought would be perfect for him, Hazel?” Lottie asked.

Thus began the pestering of Roane on the finding of a romantic partner.

With not just the Poppy incident in mind, but also our conversation a few weeks ago about how shitty he felt when his friends did this, my annoyance built.

Finally, when Hazel, Millie, and Lottie became insistent on setting Roane up with a primary school teacher who lived in nearby Howick, I blurted, “Why are you pushing this right now?”

The three women straightened as if I’d slapped them. “What?”

“You’re supposed to be his friend. Friends don’t harass friends about their love lives.”

“Evie,” Roane murmured.

But I was too incensed. “Would you do that to me? Would you sit in a pub and publicly harass me about being single?”

Milly looked uncharacteristically flustered. “We never meant any harm by it, lass.”

“Look at him, for Christ’s sake.” I gestured. “The man is walking lady porn. If he wanted someone, he could have them.”

Viola giggled first.

Then Milly and Hazel and Lottie.

I winced, turning to Roane, who was groaning into his hands.

“Lady porn.” Milly threw back her head in cackling laughter.

Oh shit.

“Right, we’re going.” Roane pushed his chair back and took hold of my wrist. “Caro, let’s go.”

Caro, who was struggling very hard not to laugh, wished everyone good night as Roane practically hauled me out of the pub.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized as soon as we stepped outside into the cool summer night. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

I could hear Caro behind us, making a gargling sound in her throat, struggling with her laughter.

Roane released my wrist to run a hand through his hair. He heaved a sigh, his long strides not slowing any. “You were just being a friend. It’s fine.”

“I think my point was getting through . . . until . . .”

“Lady porn,” Caro gasped on a laugh.

Roane shot her a semi-annoyed, semi-amused look over his shoulder.

I winced. “I made things worse, didn’t I?”

He side-eyed me. “Only time will tell, Evie. Only time will tell.”

We fell into silence as we walked by the harbor, me lost in my self-flagellation.

“So”—Roane broke the silence just as we neared the bookstore—“I could get anyone, could I?”

I rolled my eyes at the pleased amusement in his voice.

Caro strolled at her cousin’s side, smiling mischievously.

Flushing, I huffed, “Oh, you know you’re gorgeous, Robson. You don’t need me to stroke your ego.”

“I beg to differ.” He was suddenly no longer smiling as we drew to a stop in front of the store. “It’s getting to the point only you can.”

The breath whooshed out of my lungs as our gazes locked and his double entendre had the equivalent effect of him sliding his hand between my legs. My mouth grew dry, and I could only stare. He did not just say that in front of his little cousin.