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You can’t miss Dane and Lettie. She’s riding piggyback in her sundress, holding her heels. And it’s no surprise Lettie is laughing so hard, she’s snorting.

As we converge together, Reed asks, “What’s so funny?”

But it’s Dane’s face that turns a deep shade of red.

“We were just reminiscing about the last time we hadfunin an elevator.” Lettie giggles as she lets her legs fall, and her feet touch the ground.

Finally, Corbin and Oakley arrive, appearing that they’ve started their honeymoon—freaking glowing.

I glance around for John but don’t ask where he is. The concierge leads us to our private dinner show.

Tiki torches glimmer down the path and around the white linen-covered tables, casting dancing shadows on the orchids. A large, barbequed pig is the centerpiece of the buffet line with platters of tropical fruit piled high on each side. But the man standing at the bar in tan shorts and a white polo catches my attention. The sleeves stretch over his bulging forearms as he brings a cocktail to his lips.

John.

He's talking to a beautiful, fit woman with long, blond hair. Well, that didn’t take long. Stella left the resort about six hours ago. That’s how long it took for John to find a new plaything.

Bryce puts his fingers between his lips, wolf whistling. John recognizes the sound from his former teammate and turns to us. When the woman does also, I realize it’s Flynn’s wife, Presley. I shouldn’t let out a heavy sigh of relief, but I do.

Many of the Stallions are coming and leaving on different days, so tonight, there’s a manageable number of us to have a more intimate dinner for ten. John and I are seated together for the Lucky Luau.

Behind us, the ocean waves kiss the shore, steady as a clock. In front of us, colorful pods of flowers decorate the stage. Applause ripples through the crowd as the dancers with feathered headdresses sway their hips to the firm drumbeat.

The waiter sets a strawberry daiquiri in front of me. “Sorry, I didn’t order.”

“He ordered it for you. Said it was your favorite.” He gestures with his head in John’s direction.

John rewards me with a tempting grin.

“Thank you. It is my favorite.” I can’t remember a time when Dennis ordered something I would like. I’m my own woman, but I admit it feels nice for someone to know what I want or need before I know myself.

John places his hand on my leg, squeezing my thigh gently.

I mouth, “Thank you.”

“I’ve always known what you need,” he whispers, and his voice sends chills up my body. My legs prickle, and he grins again, removing his hand.

God, that grin.

He lifts a brow and draws me in as he throws his arm around my shoulder. “Admit it. You need me. You want me.”

God, those words.

CHAPTER SIX

John

If there’s anyone in the entire world who loves watching Becca squirm more than me, please stand up. She’s so damn cute when she dips her shoulder, half smiling while wiggling away from the heat of my words.

“Get over yourself, Basilio,” she says as she pushes my shoulder.

Becca only calls me Basilio when she’s frazzled. So, what do I do? Poke the bear. Yes.

“Who at this table thinks Becca loves me?”

Her head spins, and her piercing blue eyes lock on mine. For a second, I forget I’m teasing, and every cell in my body wants to kiss those shiny lips.

“You’re incorrigible.”