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I’m a mess, unsure of what I want in life. I’ve lost my compass, Mamaw. Recollecting her words that I need a beer-drinking, hell-raising man. I wouldn’t describe John exactly in those terms, but he’s one who revels in life’s little things.

“Challenge accepted.” He suppresses a laugh, but the upward curve of his lips gives him away.

Oakley grabs my hands, and the four of us dance in a small circle. The space between us contracts as more people step ontothe flickering neon floor. I lift my hair from the back of my neck. “God, I’m so hot.”

“What?” Corbin yells.

I wasn’t this hot on the beach under the scorching sun. Sweat beads around my hairline, and I feel it traveling down my spine. I hold my hair off my neck with one hand and fan my face with the other, but it doesn’t help, the overwhelming wave of heat hits me.

“I… I…”

Without warning, the pulsing music and the crowd of clubbers seem hazy and undefined. When I open my lids, I’m nowhere near the flashing colors lighting up the dance floor. Instead, I’m lying on a cushy couch with John hovering over me.

His flirtatious grin is muted now, replaced by a soft smile, no longer tossing around his cocky comments that make my belly churn in ways it’s not used to. John’s lingering glances are now focused on me. His brashness is gone, replaced with genuine concern.

“Here. Drink up,” he says, handing me a chilled glass.

My lips burn as the heat meets the cold sting of club soda. His focus never wavers from my face, even when he pushes my hair back from my face. It’s almost the opposite way he observed me on the dance floor, where every move was a dare and every glance a challenge.

The gentle brush of his fingertips skim across my face, and I’m only getting hotter—reaching my boiling point. Before I can grab him and pull him close, he pushes air through his lips, attempting to cool me off like the gentle breeze of the ocean.

“You’re burning up,” he utters, nearly inaudible. “Corbin and Oakley went to get you a wet cloth from the bar.” My pulse pops erratically when his fingers linger around my face. With a sinful glint in his eyes, he asks, “Did you think you could outlast me out there?”

I manage a faint, broken chuckle.

His face moves in slow motion toward me. “I’ll cool you off,”he says, his voice low and softened by the smile he’s trying to hide.

My only defense is to defend like I’m in a court of law. Question him. “Is that what you want? To cool me off?”

He swipes his forefinger slowly over his plump bottom lip. “Hmm. That’s a trick question.”

Exactly. That’s what I was trained to do—question and confuse.

Even though the music bounces off the walls, all I hear is the hush of unspoken feelings. My heart beats wildly, overtaking the quiet, and I can’t tell if I’m hot from dancing or from the way his gaze never wavers, looking at me as if he’s already won.

CHAPTER EIGHT

John

Do I want to cool Becca off? A question I’ve been pondering on the way back to our villas.

We could skinny dip in the aqua-blue waters at night, which might be chilly.

We could have sex in the snow, warmed only by my heat meeting hers.

I could blast the air conditioner in my car just to see her nipples pebble.

What I really want is for her to be happy. Every time she moves her tight little cheerleader body, my dick tries to lunge from my shorts. I keep the monster inside, but it doesn’t stop the taut feeling in my chest.

She’s a little tipsy when she says to her brother, “Corby, we can’t all four ride on one golf cart.”

“Oakley will sit on my lap, and you and Basilio can ride on the back.”

“Basilio. What a fun name. It’s more fun than Shearer or Dumas. I should have known Dennis Dumas was a dumb ass,” she says as her Southern drawl takes over. I admit I’ve missed her accent. I think she has worked diligently to get rid of it. In college, she worked with a speech therapist.

I grab her by the waist and plop her onto the white padding before I scoot in beside her. We breeze quickly through the winding cart paths. Other than the cart whirring, the only sound is the bugs chirping. Becca wraps her arm around my bicep. “Can I hold onto you?”

Can you hold onto me? Is she seriously asking? Does this girl not have any idea of how I feel about her? Have always felt.