First and Tension (Summersweet Island 4)

“You’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. You know that, right?” I prompt, looking him up and down before I start walking to my car, pulling my car keys out of the pocket of my athletic shorts and hitting the key fob to unlock it. “It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t an Armani three-piece suit with Italian Gucci loafers type of island.”

Tyler is already making another call and in the middle of bitching at someone—I’m assuming it’s poor Julie again—about the atrocity of how he’ll have to rent a golf cart for us to get around in once we’re on the island.

“I don’t give a shit if they don’t come with private drivers. You find me a fucking driver!” Tyler yells before pulling the phone away from his mouth to reply to me, always paying attention to what I’m saying no matter what he’s doing. “I’m not wearing a baseball hat and dark sunglasses like you usually do to stay incognito, or it will mess up my hair plugs and Botox. Eat shit. This is how I look.”

“I pay you entirely too much, and you don’t pay Julie nearly enough.” I shake my head at him as I open my back door and chuck my bag on the seat.

“You pay me exactly enough, and Julie tells me how much I pay her. She’s fine. Now, let’s go shut down this gold digger by flashing what she wants in front of her money-hungry eyes and be home before you even drink your next protein shake.”

When I raise one eyebrow at him nervously and questioningly, he just laughs at me.

“Come on. It’s one little woman on an island in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure it will be a piece of cake.”

Tyler pats me on the shoulder before turning his attention back to his phone call to shout some more as he walks down the driveway to his Bentley parked against the curb.

I slide into my car and start it up, completely unsuccessful in trying not to run through every single moment of that night in my head while I drive back to my hotel, wondering how I could have misjudged someone so completely.

CHAPTER 3

Quinn

“I’m gonna go throw up now.”

“That” night…

“I’m sorry I was dared to kiss a pass rusher’s end zone—Nope… oh shit!”

A bunch of confusing words, followed by the scuffling of feet and a soft couple of thumps has me jumping up and quickly turning around from one of the cushioned pool loungers I was relaxing on. I find the woman who insulted my home and my playing abilities in my own living room sprawled in the grass on her hands and knees after taking a tumble walking out here. Under normal circumstances, there would already be porn music playing in my head to find a gorgeous woman in this position a few feet away, but these are not normal circumstances.

She was rude, dammit!

Even if she was right, and I should have tried harder to get out of the pocket more that game, and gray really did turn out to be the shittiest color I could have picked for this house.

Whatever. Not the point. Karma is a bitch!

But she’s also a woman who just ate shit on my lawn, and that could not have felt very good. To her pride or her hands and knees.

Cursing under my breath and shaking my head, since I guess I’m still a gentleman, I jog over to her as she starts to push herself up from the ground, wrapping my hand around her elbow to help her.

“I didn’t mean to say that. Fuck… shit! I didn’t mean to say that either,” she mutters to herself. “I’m not usually this sweary. That’s a lie; I’m totally this sweary.”

When she snorts as I help get her back up to her feet, making sure there isn’t any damage other than grass stains to her knees, I find everything happening in front of me adorable as hell. I quickly let go of her arm and take a few steps back. Redheads are crazy, and I’m not allowed to fraternize with them anymore. I signed a paper and everything.

I watch silently as she brushes her hands together to get the grass and dirt off them before looking up at me with those stunning green eyes again. The ones that almost made me tell her back in the house that she could insult me all night long if she wanted to… before I remembered I had a little pride.

“Are you okay?”

“Probably not.” She blows a long strand of red hair out of her eyes from the corner of her mouth, making me chuckle against my better judgment. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, but I never turn down a dare, and I’m already fired. My name’s Emily. I’m gonna go throw up now.”