Page 69 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Ben flexes both biceps. “We playing imaginary fucking volleyball or not?”
“The ball is behind you,” Riley deadpans. “Serve it.”
Wading through the pool, Ben collects the ball and gives it a useless squeeze, then he tosses it into the air and smacks it with his open palm, roaring like a tiger again when it rockets barely an inch over Riley’s head.
Oops!
I bite my lip as it skims the surface of the water, bounces out of the pool, and rolls to a stop by my lounger. I’m tempted to toss it back but get up instead and take it to the edge of the pool, where I wait for Riley. His strong arms sweep the water back with each step toward me, reminiscent of aBaywatchlifeguard.
“Dickhead nearly killed me. Twice!” Riley spits out.
Giggling, I squat and hand him the ball. “Go easy on him. He’s insecure, remember?”
He cocks his head just slightly. “Did you tell him to do that?”
“Do what?” I prompt, feigning ignorance.
“Aim for my head?”
I shrug.
His eyes widen with a wicked glint, and before I can leap back a safe distance, he grasps my wrist and tugs me into the water, his arms cradling my body and preventing me from completely submerging.
“Riley!” I shriek, wiping my eyes before slapping his chest. “You jerk!”
“What goes around, comes around, sweetheart.”
“My cover-up! It’s soaked.” I slap him again, wrestle free of his grip, and plant my feet on the bottom of the pool, trying to remain somewhat pissed at him, but I honestly can’t. I haven’t had this much spontaneous fun since… well… for as long as I can remember. “That was a cheap shot.”
“You telling Ben to aim for my head was a cheap shot.”
“Why?”
“Because he nearly decapitated me.”
Laughing, because he’s absolutely correct, I scruff his wet hair. “Afraid of a little competition, are you?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.”
His eyes crinkle as he calls out to where Ben is ogling a sunbather at the other end of the pool. “Hey, Michigan. Riles is on your team.”
Ben turns to face us. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll protect you.”
“Protect me?” I mutter under my breath. “More like try to molest me.”
Riley chuckles. “If it comes to that,I’llprotect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I can protect myself.” I playfully shove him, then wade to the edge of the pool and take the steps out of the water.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I can’t play in this, can I?” I explain, bunching the seam of my cover-up after peeling it from my stomach. “And I refuse to be at a disadvantage.”
Continuing to the cabana, I awkwardly grapple with the drenched material plastered to my arms and back, twisting as I pull it over my head before wringing it out and neatly setting it on the end of the lounge chair. I then turn back to the pool, finding Riley’s eyes glued to my body like a magnet, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
Heat sweeps my skin, and I’m tempted to wrap myself in a towel or ask him if he’s ever seen a woman in a swimsuit before, when the ball slams into the side of his face.
