She turned away, and damn it all to hell, even though it was just one more rejection in a very long line of many, it stung. Way more than it should have.
“I’m still convinced it was you they were aiming for,” she said, all prim and haughty like a princess addressing a servant so far beneath her that he barely rated her notice.
All right. If she wouldn’t accept tender words or gestures from him, he could go back to being the hard-ass. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. “We’re staying until your father or my brothers give me the all clear to take you back.”
With a groan, she banged her forehead on the desk. Once. Twice. Damn woman was going to give herself a concussion.
Jude winced. Squatting beside her, he caught her chin in his hand to stop her from doing it again. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. If your father had it his way, we’d be shacked up in some cabin on a dead-end mountain road, trying not to freeze to death. At least here you can enjoy some sun, the pool—”
“And your shining presence?” she said, heavy on the sarcasm.
“I can tell ya my presence is a lot more shiny here than it woulda been in that mountain cabin.”
“Small consolation.” She sighed and lifted her head. “Do we have any wine? I have a headache.”
“You bang your head on a desk and expected not to have a—” Jude wisely sealed his lips when her eyes narrowed in warning. He hitched a thumb toward the kitchen. “I stuck a bottle in the fridge to chill for you.”
“Look at that.” She patted his cheek in the same indulgent way his mother had when he was five and had drawn himself a report card to go with his brothers’ already pinned to the fridge. “You can be tamed after all.”
Jude stayed where he was for a moment after she got up and walked toward the kitchen.
Tamed? Him?
Nah, he decided and stood. He hadn’t been tame a day in his life and didn’t plan to be. Someone out of the five Wilde boys had to live up to the name, after all.
Chapter Thirteen
“Another glass already?”
Libby glared up at him as he walked into the kitchen from the living room, where he’d been watching TV. Then, just to be pissy, she dumped more of the wine into her glass. He held up his hands in surrender. “Just asking.”
“It’s not like I have any work to do. I’m on vacation.”
He exhaled. “You’re going to be pissed about that for days, aren’t you?”
“Hmm.” She swirled her wine, pretended to consider it. “Yeah, I think so. And you owe me a new phone.”
He waved a dismissive hand and disappeared into the bedroom. Impossible man. Impossible, frustrating man. With a shake of her head, she stuffed the cork back into the neck of the wine bottle and returned to her seat at the kitchen island, where she’d left her book open on the countertop. She started reading, intent on sinking back into the words and forgetting about him for a while, but a thump from the bedroom drew her attention. Another thunk. An exclamation.
What the hell was he doing in there?
She stood and made it halfway to the hall when he reappeared with a box in his hands. He breezed past her and deposited his cargo on the dining table in the open area between the kitchen and living room.
As she moved to his side, she got a good look at the box. “Battleship?”
“My favorite. I knew Seth had some board games stashed away somewhere from when his family used to use this place as a vacation house, but I didn’t think I’d find this one. Wanna play?”
“Seriously?”
“We don’t have anything else to do,” he said with mock gravity. “We’re on vacation.”
“Yes, ha-ha, throw my words back at me. You’re so clever. Let’s all laugh.” She traced her nail along the edge of the old, beat-up box. “I haven’t played this since I was… I don’t know. Ten?”
“Really?” Jude seemed genuinely surprised as he opened the box and handed her one of the game boards. “The twins and I play all the time. It’s our go-to game when we’re bored.”
“But…you’re adults.”
“So?” With that, he pulled out a chair, sat down, and focused on placing his ships. She watched him for a moment, amazed at the pure enjoyment he got out of finding the perfect position for each of his game pieces. He muttered to himself—a mix of “hmm” and “nope” and “ah-ha!” until he was finally satisfied and gazed up. He frowned when he realized she still hadn’t opened her board. “You don’t want to play?”
Sighing, she gave in. Like he said, it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do. She retrieved her wine from the island, then sat down across from him. Opening her board, she took considerably less time placing her ships.
His frown only deepened. “You’re supposed to strategize. That’s part of the fun.”
“I did.”
He made a face.
“I did!” she insisted.
“Uh-huh. You’re making this too easy.”
“I am not!”
“All right, then how about we up the ante?”