Page 4 of Must Have Been Love

I know how to deal with angry people, but right now I’m cold and I’m wet and damn it, I could do without this right now.

“No,” I say, shooting him as dirty of a look as I can muster. “You get out. This ismybar andyou’renot welcome.”

two

SKYLER

Of course he doesn’t move. He looks like the kind of man who doesn’t take orders kindly. Instead, he stares at me like he’d like to wrap his huge hands around my neck and wring it, slowly taking in my face and my wet white gypsy blouse that’s turned translucent from the rain and is broadcasting the fact that I prefer not to wear bras, and the skirt that’s clinging to my thighs.

He pays special attention to the ink that swirls from my left ribcage down to my hip.

I wait for him to apologize to me, for walking intomybar and ordering me around, but of course he doesn’t.

He looks like the kind of man who isn’t used to apologizing to anybody. In his expensive clothes, with his perfectly styled hair and his tight jawline, he probably spends most of his days around corporate ass-lickers telling him he’s the bees knees.

“Aren’t you leaving?” I ask him. “I think I made it clear that I own the place.”

His eyes narrow and yet somehow his sexiness isn’t diminished by his annoyance. “You’re Wayne’s kid?” he asks, frowning like he doesn’t believe me.

“What’s it to you?” I ask, my pulse still racing. I fold my arms across my chest for good measure, because if he’s going to be an ass he doesn’t get to look at my nipples while he’s doing it.

Especially since they seem to have minds of their own right now.

“I live on this island. Making sure it’s safe is my job.” He even looks handsome when he scowls. “So are you Wayne’s kid, or do I need to call the cops?”

He doesn’t look like he needs to call the cops at all. One flex of his biceps and he’d have me over his shoulder and marching me back to the ferry without taking a breath.

“Yes, I’m Wayne’s kid,” I say, because as good looking as this man is, I don’t want to be hoisted over his chest right now. Or anywhere else for that matter.

He nods, looking slightly mollified.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Oh boy. We’ve gone from evicting me to offering condolences. I’m starting to get whiplash.

“You knew my dad?” I ask him. And it doesn’t come out as strong as I want it to. There’s no way I want to show any vulnerability to this oaf, even if he is the first man to set my pulse racing in a long, long time.

“Yes.” He nods. “I assumed you’d be selling this place.”

I shrug. “I’m not sure what I’m doing yet. I just got here.” I pull my lip between my teeth. “Not that it’s any of your business,” I add, just to make him grimace a little more.

It works.

“Of course it’s my business,” he says, still not walking out of my damn bar. “I plan to buy this place as soon as it’s on the market.”

I immediately bristle. Oh hell no, that’s not happening. “It’s not for sale.”

Technically, that’s true. I won’t be putting it up for sale until I’ve had a chance to go through all the things that are still in here and in the living quarters. I owe that to my dad. Even if I don’t end up spending the next six months here.

But if it takes my last breath, I’ll make sure this guy never gets his hands on this place.

“What did you say your name is?” he asks.

“I didn’t.” And he knows that as well as I do. He’s got that ability that only rich men seem to have of putting me on edge.

And then he glances at my chest and I realize my nipples are still pushing against the translucent top that seemed like a good idea only a few hours ago.

I’m not attracted to him. Yes, in my past I’ve been a bit of an asshole magnet, as Lee would put it. But I’m older. I’m wiser.

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