Page 78 of Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

Without waiting for him to answer, I hauled myself out of the pool. Stalking toward our chairs, I was determined not to look back and see if he was following me. But when I finally got to the chair and reached for my towel, I made the dreadful mistake of glancing back.

Alec was having a James Bond moment, emerging glistening and wet from the pool, his navy trunks dripping with water and hotness. In fact, he looked so damn sexy, Bond hadnothingonMackenzie. I swore I could even hear a sharp intake of breath from the open-mouthed lady sitting way across the other end of the pool.

That’s it. Ihadto get away.

Without waiting for him, I wrapped my towel around my waist and stalked off.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t escape him for too long. We sat at the same table for lunch, and I spent the entire time making small talk with Jacqui while trying not to be distracted by the occasional hand rub and quick kisses on the cheek from Alec. He’d smoothly slipped back into his doting boyfriend role, trying to show affection for Jacqui’s benefit. But it was sending confusing signals to my brain, causing the cells to go haywire, and thoroughly befuddling my heart.

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough.

When lunch was over, we all made our way down to the beach, where Carmel stood with a clipboard, flanked by two other women wearing ocean-blue shirts emblazoned with the GPG logo. She blew a whistle to get everyone’s attention, then rattled off the rules of the competition. Three games, with a grand prize of five thousand dollars for the winning team, and the supposedly highly coveted Goodwin Games trophy.

That was a lot of money that could help my cash flow at the bakery.

First up—making sandcastles. My last encounter with sandcastles was when my age was still in the single digits. My mother hated sand, because it got everywhere, and she always complained that she didn’t have time to take us to the beachandclean up the mess afterward.

We were split into teams of four, with ten teams in total. Jacqui, Carmel, and the other two women stood on the sidelines asjudges. Rob, Alec, and I were in the same group with a redhead named Marisa, who’d introduced herself as GPG’s marketing manager.

The minute Carmel finished distributing the buckets, shovels, and trowels, mayhem ensued. We only had one hour, so everyone jostled to find the best possible site for their group’s masterpiece, eager to construct the finest sand structure ever known to mankind. Alec and Rob had already claimed our spot, busy laying the foundation, while Marisa and I raced to the water to fill up our buckets.

When the hour was up, Carmel blew her whistle again, signaling us to put down our tools. One team had made a replica of the Sydney Opera House, with lumps of what were supposed to be koalas in front. Another group had built a literal sandcastle, with moats and turrets and flags, big enough to comfortably sit four people inside it. My favorite was a team that had constructed a collection of sea creatures—whales, turtles, dolphins, plus one lone mermaid.

Jacqui stopped to inspect our group last, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. We’d created a structure resembling a small city, with tall skyscrapers, houses, and a construction site at one corner. Alec had come up with the idea, and he was grinning from ear to ear, looking pleased with himself.

“I love this.” She beamed at the four of us. “Sticking to the spirit of the company. I’m awarding you the first place. Fantastic effort, everyone.”

Our team cheered as Carmel announced that we were leading with a score of fifty points.

Next, the relay races. Alec and Rob stood at one end, while Marisa and I were at the other end. The second Carmel blew her whistle, Marisa took off, only skidding to a halt inches away from Rob. He grabbed the blue-colored baton from her, sprinted, and practically threw it at me. I did my almighty best to pass it toAlec, but it wasn’t easy to run barefoot in soft sand. Alec made the final dash, but his superhuman effort still couldn’t win us the game—we came second, after a team of tall, lithe twenty-somethings who were already cheering and hugging each other by the time Alec crossed the finish line.

That put us in a tie for first place, with a score of ninety points. After a quick fifteen-minute break, it was time for the last game.

“There are things you absolutely can’t do in dodgeball,” Carmel announced through her bullhorn. “You can’t smack, spike, kick, or catch a ball. You should aim for below the shoulders. The first team to lose all their players will be eliminated.”

Cheers erupted as the first two teams shuffled to the makeshift court. The game began, fast and hard. Everyone focused all their energy into destroying their opponents, and the balls flew sharper and harder as team after team went down. The game had recorded at least five minor casualties so far—sprained ankles, shoulder injuries, and one bloody nose.

We started easy, defeating a few teams without difficulty, and got into the final round. Our team was up against four muscly guys who looked like they ate two dozen eggs every morning for breakfast and wrestled professionally for a living.

Rob tossed the ball back and forth in his hands. “Listen up, y’all. If we win this round, that five grand is ours. We can do it, people. Who’s with me?”

“I’m not too sure about this.” Marisa grimaced as she glanced at the opposing team. “Have you seen who we’re up against? Their arms are bigger than my whole body. They’re the most competitive guys in the entire company. We’re doomed.”

“We’re not,” Rob said, looking dead serious. “They might be bigger than us, but we can be faster. So, same strategy as before. We’ll go after the biggest guy first, that one in the white T-shirt. Just aim your ball at him, find a time when he’s distracted. Remember, throw with one hand and aim below the neck so you don’t hit theirheads. Don’t do straight shots and try to throw cross-court. Fake your throws.”

I gave him a blank look. “Do you do this for a living? I thought you were a builder.”

Rob grinned. “I’ve practically been playing this since I started walking. I have five older siblings, Ellie. I dodged things to survive.”

Carmel and her whistle pierced the air again, and we took our positions. I fired up the first serve, pretending to aim for a tall guy standing in front of his teammates. Then, as I tossed, I curved the ball to the big guy in the white T-shirt. He dodged it at the last second, and the guy behind him picked it up, firing it back at Marisa, who jumped out of the way.

Alec scooped the ball and lobbed it at Tall Guy. It hit him, and he walked off the court with a loud groan. Marisa was the next to go, then another guy from the opposing team.

Two down, two to go.

Big Guy in White took possession of the ball, watching us from across the court as he bounced the ball in his hand, probably assessing which one of us would be the easiest to eliminate first. The next thing I knew, he pitched the ball toward me, and it whizzed at lightning speed in my direction. My brain froze, stripping me of the ability to react and protect myself, and for a few beats I thought—no, I knew,for sure—that the ball was going to hit me.

Because it was heading, in super slo-mo, straight toward my face.

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