He craned his head back. Becca stood there in the darkness. He couldn’t make out her expression, but the displeasure in her voice said enough.

Gabriel looked back at the pool. “Maybe I’m not very nice.”

“Can I sit down?”

He shrugged. “Go ahead. I already lost my wingman.”

She moved forward between the lounges, and he expected her to drop onto the one next to him, but she sat on his. She faced him, her hip against his, the warmth in her body carrying through the gauzy skirt she wore.

His eyes flicked up to hers. “Trying to make Chris jealous?”

“No. I’m trying to figure out what’s up with you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“Nick doesn’t know what he did wrong. You know, he’s beating himself up trying to figure it—”

“Becca, stop.” He glared out at the pool. “Nick did nothing wrong.”

That was the whole problem. Nick never did anything wrong.

“He misses you.”

Gabriel snorted and gestured to the dark tiki torches. “Yeah, he’s got a funny way of showing it.” He fished the lighter out of his pocket and stood to relight them.

Really, he couldn’t take her closeness right now.

He pulled down the first torch and flicked his lighter. Becca stood next to him, and he watched the firelight dance across her cheeks. She looked worried.

He sighed. “Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Are you really starting these fires?” she whispered.

He pulled down the next torch. If he said no, would it make a difference? He could already hear the plea in her tone, the fear behind her whisper.

But then he flicked his lighter, and something beyond Becca caught his eye.

Taylor and Heather had cell phones in their hands, and they were taking pictures—or maybe video—of the couple writhing on the lounge. The girls were giggling, but he couldn’t make out everything they were saying.

He let the flame die and nodded in their direction. “What do you think is going on over there?”

Becca turned and her whole body stiffened. “Hey!” she called. She started storming across the pool deck. “Hey!”

God, she was a ballsy chick. Gabriel followed her.

Taylor and Heather were making wolf whistles, egging the couple on. Some big kid was on top of a much smaller girl in boots and a miniskirt. He couldn’t see her face behind the guy, but he’d worked her skirt up to her waist and her shirt up to her chest, revealing the edge of a bra. Thank god she had tights on, or she’d be giving quite a show.

The guy’s arm was on her shoulder, pinning her there, his hand over her mouth.

The other hand was trying to force the shirt higher. The girl squealed and struggled.

Becca walked right up and punched him in the kidney. “Get off of her, you asshole!”

He barely grunted. Becca was tiny.