Page 8 of A Game of Ruck (Carolina Rugby #2)

Makes it harder to pretend I’m okay with being invisible.

That I don’t care.

Because I do.

I care.

And that makes everything worse.

Eventually, Lisa claps her hands like she’s hosting some kind of wedding-themed Hunger Games and announces, “That’s a wrap! Back to the hotel dock!”

The captain revs the engine, the boat turning smoothly.

I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding until she approaches.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” Lisa says sweetly, appearing in front of us like the world’s most aggressively dressed, in a barely there white bikini, jack-in-the-box.

She’s all sparkly lip gloss and tight fabric clinging to her Pilates-toned, perfectly spray-tanned body.

Her white cover-up is now nothing, but a crumpled suggestion hanging off her arms as she stands directly in front of Luca— right in front of my Luca —and smiles.

Silicone boobs— her college graduation present —on display.

The skimpy thong bottom that just manages to cover her undoubtedly waxed mound is practically at eye level.

And it’s not even a kind smile on her face. Not a real one.

It’s the kind of smile that says watch me try to make you feel small in your own skin.

I blink up at her.

“Sure. Such fun,” I say tightly.

“Yeah. And now it’s back to the hotel to swim in the pool before lunch. You’ll join us, won’t you, Luca?” she asks, her voice syrupy and sweet—but not nearly as sweet as the way she’s eyeing him like he’s a pina colada she plans to sip on all afternoon.

Her fiancé— David —is literally three feet away, talking to one of the groomsmen, but she doesn’t even flinch.

She doesn’t have to.

Because she’s Lisa.

And in Lisa’s world, consequences are just things that happen to other people.

I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks— not from the sun .

From embarrassment.

From that old, familiar sting of not being enough.

Not pretty enough.

Not thin enough.

Not cool enough.

Never chosen.

Always tolerated.

She’s already untied her hair, and her hands are working, shaking out the glossy tresses as she moves her body to the best advantage in that goddamn bikini that belongs on a Sports Illustrated model, not a boat filled with your closest relatives.

Her body simply defies gravity. Her abs look Photoshopped. Honestly? They might actually be painted on.

But the thing that really hurts? Lisa knows exactly what she’s doing.

Old, gnawing doubt slithers up my spine.

Of course, she thinks Luca will want to come.

Of course, she thinks he’d rather be anywhere else than sitting beside the fat girl in a dress.

But before I can sink into a full-blown shame spiral, Luca leans toward me.

One arm casually draped behind me on the bench, his body language unmistakably possessive.

“Depends on what my Angel wants,” he replies casually.

Then he leans down, and his voice is a low rumble near my ear. “You wanna swim back at the hotel, or are we busy ?”

I nod, but it’s weak.

He turns back to Lisa, smile cool, polite.

“Thanks for the invite,” he says smoothly, “but we’ve got plans.”

Lisa blinks. “You do?”

He grins. “Yeah. I promised Annabeth we’d have a private swim together at the beach.”

I blink.

We what?

“Oh,” Lisa says, faltering for the first time all day. “Well, okay then. Don’t have too much fun. Maybe you can come to the pool after.”

Luca chuckles, and his hand slides down to rest on my thigh.

“We’ll try.”

As soon as she flounces away, I lean in, whispering, “What are you talking about? We have plans?”

He lifts a shoulder, eyes glinting with mischief and something a little warmer.

“We do now.”

And just like that, my racing heart slows.

Because no matter how fake this is, Luca makes it feel real.

“Well, you bringing the fire, Angel? Or are you keen on staying dry and mysterious?”

“I didn’t even pack a swimsuit.”

He lifts an eyebrow.

“Well, now that’s just criminal.”

“I don’t wear bathing suits in public.”

He frowns.

“You planning to live in that dress?”

“My cousin does this crap all the time. All the family events seem to involve bathing suits, just for shits and giggles. She knows I’m not comfortable and I never go swimming with them!” I whisper scream.

He tilts his head, brows furrowed.

“Okay, real talk—do you want to swim?”

“Honestly? Kind of.” I glance at the crystal clear water as we speed by in the boat, biting my lip. “But I’m not exactly eager to give Lisa more material for her group chat.”

He straightens, expression sharpening.

“Listen up, Annabeth, because I’ve had enough of you trash talking my girl?—”

“Your girl?”

“Yes. My girl,” he growls possessively, and boom, I swear to God my ovaries just went off like fireworks.

“Now, first off, your body is smoking hot. End of story. I’ve been trying to act chill about it, but every time you walk in a room, I nearly pull a muscle trying not to stare.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am one hundred percent fucking serious. Feel this?” he growls, hand on my hip as he pulls me tighter into the cradle of his body.

And yeah, I feel it. Hard and long, twitching against my hip. My gaze flashes to his bright blue one and he rocks his hips a little harder, pressing what feels like a gloriously thick dick into my side.

My mouth goes dry.

“That’s what you do to me, Annabeth.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You. No one else. So, I say, let’s go to that overpriced boutique in the lobby and buy the sexiest goddamn bikini they have. Then I’ll walk beside you onto that beach like a man on a fucking mission. Because I am.”

My mouth goes dry. “You want to go shopping with me? Then you want to take me swimming?”

“Hell fucking yes. I want to see you in a swimsuit. Feel your body pressed against mine as we splash around that pretty water out there. You can call it what you want, Annabeth. I just want you.”

My cheeks flame, but something deep inside me purrs at the idea.

Maybe I do want to swim.

Maybe I want to dive right in.

And not just into the ocean.