The Player Hater (Accidentally in Love 1)

“Eh?” Startled by the unfamiliar male voice, I blink open my eyes, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling. Where the hell am I? Why is it so bright in here?

“Juliet, wake up. You’ve slept half the day away.”

Oh shit, that’s right; I’m camping in the middle of God’s Green Earth, with naught but a bag full of beach cover-ups and flirty athleisurewear.

I roll to the side, grumping at the sound of my best friend’s voice. “Slept the day away? Ha. I never sleep past seven.”

Even half passed out I’m argumentative.

Mia huffs as she jostles me again. “Well it’s past ten. We’ve already had breakfast.”

Already had breakfast!

I frantically shoot up as if someone has taken a fire and lit it under my ass.

“Ten? Why didn’t anyone wake me up!” How could she eat without me! She knows I need food first thing in the morning, as soon as I peel my eyes open!

She knows this! I’m a complete monster until I’ve had sustenance! I literally need a three-course breakfast before I can start my day.

“I tried calling and texting. I was actually starting to get worried that you were dead.” Mia chews on a fingernail behind the man who’s impolitely hovering over my bed as if I’m a spectacle.

Although, to his credit, he does look concerned.

Bah! He needs to go away!

Pulling the blankets up farther so they’re covering my chest, I narrow my eyes at him. “Stop looking at me.”

Shit, was that rude? What if he works for the glampground and I just insulted him? I hate having bad manners, but it’s not like staring is polite.

I backpedal. Sort of. “What I meant to say was—can I help you with something?” I pause. “Sir.”

He grins at me.

I scowl at his audacity. “I can’t get out of bed with y’all crowding me—give a girl some room, would you?”

“Did she just say y’all? I thought you were both originally from Illinois,” the behemoth interloper drawls, most definitely from the south or thereabouts.

It’s too early for me to be sleuthing his origins.

I close my eyes again as they continue talking about me behind my back. Or, right in front of my closed eyelids.

“She is from Illinois—I don’t know why she insists on saying y’a—”

“Um, hello!” I put my arm up and wave a hand in the air. “I’m literally lying right here. Could you all get out of my room, so I can get dressed?”

I hear a male voice chuckling.

Mia gives a small, apologetic gasp. Flutters her hands. “Juliet is right; everyone give her space. We shouldn’t have come inside anyway.”

“I had to bring in my stuff.” The strange dude turns, presenting me with a view of his ass. “And who said she could hog the entire bed?”

Hog the entire bed? There is only one bed and it’s mine.

Nevertheless, my gaze travels upward, foggy as it may be. Up the tight back end to broad shoulders and a thick neck, the telltale sign of a fresh, new, haircut at its base.

He glances at me over his shoulder, eyebrows raising when he catches me staring.

“Come on, Halbrook—I want to run and reserve a boat for later, I hear they stock this lake with bass.”

Davis.

Boat.

Bass.

Oh my god—that guy is Davis Halbrook?

That…that…lumbersexual with the plaid shirt, tight ass and lingering stare?

I crane my neck, waiting to climb out of the bed until I hear the screen door slam for the last time, eyes homing in on the duffle bag in the kitchenette.

Scurrying up, I scramble to close the actual door, locking myself inside so I can rinse off and change, brush my teeth and the whole bit, before making a late-morning appearance outside.

I can’t believe I slept this late—I never sleep this late!

Must be the fresh air.

And the travel. And the anxiety.

Rooting through my bags, I unearth the only casual things I brought—jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt—and throw that on with sneakers.

I wish I’d known we were coming to this place; I would have packed more appropriate attire. These sundresses certainly aren’t going to cut it; I’ll look like a complete asshole gathered ’round the bonfire wearing pastel pink florals.

I can’t live in these same jeans and sweatshirt for the next three days, but I may have to.

One night down, three to go…

Hair in a ponytail, I finally emerge from my hovel, not the least bit bright eyed and bushy tailed, searching for my friend. Raising my nose in the air on my way down the little path to her tent, the lingering smell of bacon hits my senses, along with the aroma of coffee.

My stomach grumbles.

“Juliet!” Mia spies me before I see her, appearing from inside her cute, canvas tent, side-stepping the steamer trunk coffee table on its wooden deck so she can envelope me in a hug. “There you are!”

I kiss her cheek when I hug her back.