Rich Player (The Dirty Thirty Pledge 3)

“I’ll stay for three dunks, good luck!” he calls out into the crowd, and everybody cheers. Especially the women.

“Holy shit,” I say under my breath.

Liz looks over at me. “I know, he’s hot, right?”

Earlier while we were driving over, I told her about Nashville and my one-night stand with the hot, rich stranger. “Liz,” I say, “I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

I clear my throat. “I need you to promise that when I tell you what I’m about to tell you that you won’t scream or make a scene.”

“Okay…” She draws out the word and gives me a look that tells me I’m being weird. And I know I am.

“The guy,” I say. “From Nashville. Mr. Rich one-night-stand. That’s him.” I nod toward Glenn.

Liz’s eyes go wide, and her voice drops to a whisper. “Are you fucking serious?”

“You think I would kid about this? That’s him. His name is Glenn, right?”

She nods, and she’s practically bouncing up and down, though she’s doing her best to keep her promise. With so many people here, and him having a level of fame I had no clue about, I don’t want to broadcast that we just slept together, and I doubt that he wants that either.

Besides, I’ve seen press people walking around, and the last thing I need is to be in a news story about fucking a billionaire. I’m certain that wouldn’t fit my parents’ idea of a good public image.

“You have to go dunk him,” Liz says.

“What? Why?”

“Why?” She whispers urgently. “Because you said he was the best sex of your life and he’s right there and maybe you guys will have some of that great sex again. It’s stupid not to at least show him that you’re here.”

She’s right and I know it, but it takes me a second to move. He’ll probably be gone by the time I get to the front of the line. There seem to be quite a lot of people that want to take the chance. One guy does it right away, but something must be looking out for me, because a whole bunch of people go, and no one manages to hit him. And then the girl in front of me sinks him, and I’m glad. Because if I do it, I’ll be the last one.

I give the attendant my money and grab a couple of balls. I can do this. In high school I played softball a little bit. It wasn’t my favorite sport, but I can throw a ball.

And then Glenn looks up, and he sees me. He goes still with shock. The exact same reaction that I had when I saw him. I smile, and take my shot. It hits perfectly, and he falls into the water, the look of shock still on his face.

The crowd cheers around me, but I’m still looking at Glenn. He’s coming back up out of the water, and immediately looking for me. He gestures near the side of the dunk tank.

I look up at Liz who’s still in line, and she’s grinning like a maniac. I shrug and make a face. I’m not exactly sure what he’s going to say. Will he be happy to see me? Will he think that I’m stalking him?

Watching him climb out of the tank, water dripping from his perfect body, I’m thrown back to that morning and our discussion of being in the shower together, and how neither of us would have had the strength to stop.

Water pours down his skin as he grabs his shirt and comes toward me. He doesn’t look angry, but he does look surprised. “I won’t lie,” he says. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”

I laugh. “You too. Honestly. I live in Eastborough. My friend convinced me to come over ‘cause she heard what you guys were doing. I’ve never been to First Shot before.”

Glenn grins. “Then I get to give you the tour.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say quickly. “Liz just thought it would be funny if I dunked you.”

“It’s no trouble,” he says, pulling on his shirt over his dripping, incredibly distracting chest. Putting the shirt on doesn’t even make it better because it clings to his skin and highlights every perfect ripple. God, why didn’t I take the time to lick those abs when I had the chance?

He catches me staring, and there’s nothing I can do to deny it. I feel a blush rise up to my cheeks, and I’m suddenly very self-conscious about what I’m wearing. It’s not special, just a t-shirt and jeans. I made no attempt to be sexy today. Granted, there was no way of knowing that I would need to be, but I’m still annoyed that I didn’t make more of an effort.

“Let me at least get the two of you inside,” he says. “Being friends with the owner has to give you some privileges, right?”