“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? So what… you’re not allowed to have relationships?”
“Not ones that could affect our gameplay.”
“Huh,” I say loosely. “Explains why you’re a player.”
He knocks into my arm, causing the hammock to swing faster. “Let’s go out tonight. Maybe we should celebrate his decision? I’ve been a terrible best friend,” he openly admits.
“Really? Is that a cover for you just wanting to go out tonight and find some random chick to screw? Some Green Meadows hussy waiting for the hottest athlete to come sweep her off her feet?” I lace my voice with adoration, mocking his persona.
“You know me too well, Emmy.” He grins.
“I can spot a man-whore a mile away,” I point out confidently. “All right, first let’s see if he’s still alive.”
“Good idea.”
We both climb off the hammock with great difficulty. Walking back toward the house, we talk about what’s been going on. As we step past the edge of the pool, I make a mental note to keep a reasonable distance from it. You learn from your past—once a prankster always a prankster.
“Lighten up, I won’t push you in,” Logan chastises.
“That’s what you’ve said numerous times. Once played always scarred.”
“C’mon, I’ve grown up. We aren’t kids anymore.”
Logan Carrington isn’t a kid—that’s for sure.
He’s all man.
One that screams bad boy.
I feel sorry for the women who fall in love with him. He’s your classic athlete with the biggest head on this planet next to my brother, of course. That’s why they have been best friends since day one—two man-whore peas in one man-whore pod.
“I guess you’re right.”
I make my way back to the marble pool coping when all of a sudden I lose my balance from the nudge of his arm and teeter on the edge before my body hits the frigid water with an almighty splash. The impact of the fall drags me under the surface. The sudden cold forces water into my mouth making me swallow while I flail my arms around in an attempt to swim until my head has emerged above the water.
“You… asshole…” I yell, trying to swim to the side. It’s a lot more difficult swimming fully clothed than in a bikini.
He’s on the edge—squatting—staring me down. “I said we weren’t kids, never said I wasn’t an asshole.”
I growl in annoyance, using my leg to climb over and out of the pool. With the jerk walking away, I run toward him and jump on his back like I’ve done a million times before. This time it’s harder, his height and hard muscles make it difficult for me to latch on. When the fuck did he get so tall? Or maybe I’m shrinking.
“Payback is sweet... dear old friend.”
He continues to walk, not fazed that I’m hanging on his back like a desperate monkey. “You’ve got to do more than jump on my back wet to come close to paying me back.”
“Oh, don’t you worry Carrington, game on.”
“Game on?” He laughs, mocking me.
“Game on,” I repeat.
Jumping off his back, I open the door to a screaming match going on inside the house.
Chapter Three
“There aren’t enough rounds of drinks
to cure the broken-hearted.”