Page 131 of Crushing Clover

“Probably because we’re ignoring her.”

Lucky appeared beside me and threaded my arm through his. Rush did the same on the other side.

“I apologize,” Rush said. “Were you feeling ignored?”

“No, I was enjoying the conversation.”

“Did you even understand the conversation?” the pompous ass said from behind me.

“Sorry—I was enjoying thetoneof the conversation. Is that better?”

A big hand closed over my nape. “Such a mouth on this girl.”

A couple was approaching us on the sidewalk, and the woman made concerned eye contact with me, as though she was wondering if I needed help. I grinned at her, and she smiled back uneasily, like she wouldn’t trade places with me for a million dollars.

“You like my mouth?” I asked Saint innocently.

“Let’s take a walk on the beach,” Saint said, not-so-innocently.

At his statement, Rush and Lucky locked my arms in theirs with their opposite hands, and the easy way they restrained me made it obvious this had been the plan all along. So much for them being fun and maybe a little romantic. I didn’t try to tug my arms free, and their holds relaxed somewhat.

Uneasily, I let them guide me in the direction of the beach, which was only a street away.

“We’re going to get sand in our shoes,” I pointed out.

“Your shoes are going to be the least of your concern.”

Memories of what the men had done to me at the resort I’d worked at flooded in, but it had been the middle of the day, and the men had been strangers.

This was different. I trusted these men.

Wow, I really trusted them?

The realization came as a shock.

“But we just ate a big meal!” I complained. “If you jostle me too much, I’ll puke.”

“Good. Both gagging and puking shows your commitment to giving us a good time,” Rush said.

The sand, when we reached it, was still warm from the day’s sun. It shifted underfoot, making walking difficult with the three of us linked together. The wind whipped my skirt around and threatened to Marilyn Monroe at any moment, but I didn’t have a free hand to hold it down. Seagulls called in the windblown distance, their voices haunting. Despite the gathering dark, it was possible to see the beach had mostly emptied of people, but in a few minutes, we wouldn’t be able to see a thing.

“We’re going to play a little game.” Saint moved to stand in front of us. He leaned down into my face as though he were having a serious talk with his dog. It was hard to tell if it was condescension or the effort to be heard above the crash of waves and whipping wind that brought him so close.

“Am I going to like this game?” I asked skeptically.

“We’re going to let you go, and whoever catches you gets first dibs.”

Lucky groaned. “Running? That sounds like a lot of work on a full stomach.”

“Go sit in the truck if you don’t want to play.” Rush sounded amused. “More Clover for us.”

“Can I go sit in the truck?” I asked.

“No,” Rush and Saint said simultaneously.

“And there’s no home base? There’s no way for me to win?”

“Aww,” Saint mocked, grabbing my face and turning it up to look at him in the growing gloom. “Has getting dicked-down already lost its thrill for you?”

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