Page 18 of Trick Shot (Miami Blazers #1)

Melody gasps and stiffens in my arms. My entire body goes rigid as I whip my head around, heart slamming against my ribs like I just got fucking caught breaking into a vault. But the reality is worse—I’ve got my hands all over my best friend’s sister.

My eyes immediately snap to the sound of the source. Zed stands at the bar, calm, silent, and shirtless. Ice cubes clink in his glass like punctuation marks to my destruction.

His pale eyes flick between the two of us before his stare lands on me, knowing and steady.

There’s a long, heavy pause before he finally speaks.

“He’s coming,” he says in that deep, quiet voice that always sounds like a goddamn omen.

My blood turns to static. I drop my hand from Melody’s waist and step back fast—two steps, maybe three. My body’s buzzing, adrenaline snapping through every nerve as I whip my head toward the hallway.

And just as I do—

“Has anyone seen my sunglasses?” Dom’s voice calls out from the back room, getting closer.

Melody spins like she’s guilty of treason, back straight, the bitten apple clutched like a grenade in her hand.

I open the fridge and grab the first beer I see, cracking it open like it’s going to save me from the noose I almost hung myself with.

Dom walks in a second later.

He pauses in the doorway, eyes scanning the kitchen casually. Melody’s already turned toward the counter, sipping from her water bottle. I take a sip from the beer and toss the cap in the trash just to have something to do.

“Anyone seen my sunglasses?” Dom says again, scanning the room.

Zed lifts his glass, sips once, then gestures toward the patio door with the same hand.

Dom mutters a “Thanks” and walks right back out.

Silence stretches like elastic. I don’t breathe until the door shuts again.

Then I glance at Zed, who’s still watching us.

His mouth curls into the faintest shadow of a smirk. He just covered up a crime and enjoyed it.

Melody clears her throat.

“I need to... um,” she mutters before turning and bolting out of the kitchen like she didn’t just grind on my cock.

I stare after her, heart pounding, thirsty in the worst kind of way.

I take a sip of beer and glance at Zed again, who’s already turning to leave.

“Zed,” I call after him.

I need to make sure we’re good.

He turns his head a fraction, looks at me, and nods once before walking out.

The sun’s bleeding out over the horizon, slow and sultry, turning the water gold.

The beach has quieted. Some of the guys are still tossing a football around.

A couple of the puck bunnies are draped over towels, pretending they didn’t get ignored all day, while others are getting all the attention.

Matt’s at the outdoor grill, prepping it for dinner since I gave him cooking rights tonight.

I lean against the counter, phone in hand, beer untouched beside me, thinking.

I’ve been thinking about her all day—and how Zed saved me from catching hands with my best friend earlier.

Melody, on the other hand, has been on her phone day, smiling and chewing on her lip while texting Ghost.

She’s been texting all day, very obviously having noticed my absence. I have to remind myself that she doesn’t know. I don’t need to text someone I have right in front of me. But she’s noticed my lack of replies, and that’s something I need to work on.

I open the chat with Bunny. I still haven’t renamed her. Dom sometimes uses my phone, and having his sister in my DMs would be a ticking bomb.

I look at the messages she’s sent today, my lips pressed tight.

Bunny: You’ve been quiet today. I miss you.

My jaw ticks as my thumb scrolls.

Bunny: The guys here are so loud and annoying. Is the offer to get kidnapped by you still up?

I blink at the text, rage building slow and hot. It’s not explosive. It’s slow and rotting.

She misses him.

She misses me.

But not this version of me.

She misses the version that says all the right things. The one that texts her good morning and remembers that she prefers Pink Lady apples over Honeycrisp. The safe version. Not this one. Not the real one.

I scroll to the message I sent earlier as Ghost.

Me: You’ll survive the trip. And I’ll make up for the time I owe you.

That was me trying to be sweet and keep the illusion. But I don’t want it anymore.

I don’t want to be Ghost.

I want to be Jace.

She wants the fantasy, but I want her to want the reality—the version she can’t control and turn off by pressing the side button.

I stare at the screen a second longer, then lock it, drop the phone on the counter, and drag a hand over my jaw.

No.

I’m not going to fucking compete with myself anymore.

Time to start digging Ghost’s grave.

***

The house is alive behind me, with music bumping low from the patio speakers, people laughing, Tanner shouting at Matt not to overcook the steaks.

Everyone’s scattered. Melody is nowhere in sight, which is exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

Out of their sight, out of their minds—exactly where I want her.

I grab the bottle from the mini fridge. I bought it the day I came up with the plan to get Melody here. Raspberry wine—the only kind she drinks. She told me that once, months ago, and said everything else made her feel like she was sipping headache juice.

I open the cabinet and take out two wine glasses.

The back door creaks open as I slip outside. The sky’s dipped into that hot orange and gold mix, like the clouds are blushing.

I spot her sitting on the low wall near the back edge of the property, just above the dune line. Her legs are dangling off the side, her curls wild again. She’s watching the horizon like she’s thinking too much and refusing to admit it.

I walk up behind her slow, holding the bottle and glasses. We only have a couple of hours before dinner, and I don’t want to waste time. Also, it’s better to rip the bandage fast.

“You look like you could use a drink,” I say. “Wanna go somewhere better?”

“What’s better?” She doesn’t turn.

I tilt my head. “Less testosterone fogging the air.”

“That wouldn’t be true if you’re there.” Her brows arch slightly, but she still doesn’t look at me. “You trying to get me alone?” she asks, finally turning to look at me.

“I know you’re bored out of your mind out here.” I step forward. “And you need a drink.”

That earns the smallest smile—just a twitch of her lips.

“Like you know what I want.”

I hold up the bottle so the label catches the light.

“Raspberry wine?” She blinks, then frowns.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re joking.” She eyes the bottle.

“I don’t joke about wine,” I say solemnly and hand her a glass. “One glass. Twenty minutes. And then you can go back to the land of overcooked meat and egos the size of hockey rinks.”

She stares at the wine, then at me—suspicious, intrigued, and definitely a little thrown off.

“You’re up to something.” Melody narrows her eyes and takes the glass from me.

“Always.” I grin.

“What stops me from drinking the wine by myself right here?” she asks, nodding towards the bottle.

“My unmatched charm.”

There’s a long beat while she bites her lip, considering her options.

Come on, baby. We don’t have much time.

Finally, she rises to her feet, sending a wave of relief over me.

“If this is some elaborate plot to get me naked…”

“I’m not that creative,” I lie.

We walk the trail behind the house, through a narrow sliver of trees and brush that most people wouldn’t even notice. Melody’s walking just a step behind me, eyeing the landscape like she’s ready to bolt at the first sign of a jumpscare.

“You’re not taking me to a dark cave, right?” she asks from behind me.

“No blood rituals today,” I chuckle.

“‘Today?”

“I said what I said.”

When the brush clears in a couple dozen feet, the view opens up.

The cove. My cove.

A quiet curve of sand, hidden between two jagged stone walls, the water smooth and glassy inside the protected inlet. There’s a massive driftwood log half-buried in the sand. Palm fronds rustle overhead. The waves outside crash, but here? It’s soft and gentle. Private and secluded.

Melody stops in her tracks after swatting a palm tree. I immediately turn towards her, loving the way her eyes round at the corners while she takes it all in. There’s still plenty of light—the sky has just started turning pink. The view stuns me each time I come here.

“Oh my God,” she whispers, completely transfixed by the view. I take the opportunity and gently guide her to the log. She’s too distracted by the view to fight me, so I keep my hold a second longer, loving the way she feels under my hand.

I lower myself down onto the sand and lean back against the log, cracking the wine open with my teeth. I don’t speak, not wanting to break her spell. I remember the first time I came here, feeling the same way, asking myself why anything else matters when places like this exist.

She doesn’t sit immediately. She just stands there, taking it in while I fill the glasses. The way the breeze wraps around her, tugging at her curls, at the edge of her loose beach dress. She’s still in that red bikini underneath—I can see it through the sheer fabric.

Finally, she sits next to me, tucking one leg under the other, accepting the glass of wine.

“Cheers,” I lift my glass, breaking the silence.

“Cheers,” she echoes, bringing her glass to mine before sipping.

She’s still trying to act like she regrets coming. She’s doing that thing—sitting sideways, elbow on her knee, wine glass dangling from her fingers like she’s half a second from getting up and walking out just to prove she can.

I’m not falling for it.

I lean back on my hands, legs stretched out in the sand, watching the waves roll against the rocks.

“So?” she asks, glancing over.

“So what?”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to fall for you just because the view is stunning?”

“No.” I shake my head. “This is the part where you’re supposed to fall for me because I’m charming.”

She rolls her eyes. She tries to hide it behind a sip, but I see the smile breaking through.