a pale-blue shirt and dark trousers. His hand rested at her lower back. When Rachel kissed his cheek, he smiled—and immediately checked whether I had noticed. Rachel followed his gaze, understanding more with every repetition of that gesture.
“Do you want a drink?”
“Sure.”
“Then stop staring at her.”
Michael overheard and raised his brows. Daniel flushed.
“I wasn’t.”
Rachel’s laugh held no amusement. “Okay.”
As they headed toward the bar, Michael asked, “Does he always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Look at you after touching her.”
I stared at him.
