Page 37 of Trick Shot

Because what the hell.

I expected cold luxury. Chrome. Sharp edges. A soulless “modern” box with overpriced furniture and nothing personal inside.

But this?

This is something else.

It’s Mediterranean stone and aged wood. Warm, honeyed walls framed by deep charcoal accents. Arched windows. Heavy wooden doors. Vines curling over one side of the exterior like nature’s trying to seduce it. There’s a massive wraparound porch, soft white curtains behind massive glass doors. Everything feels expensive—obscenely expensive—but not in a showy way.

It backs directly onto the beach, the sand blending into wild grass and low brush before giving way to dense, swampy woods. Cypress trees lean into the edges of the property like shadows. It’s almost cinematic—paradise on one side, mystery on the other.

The second the cars stop, doors swing open. Guys tumble out, stretching, laughing, tossing bags around like children on a field trip who happen to be built like gods.

I step out, the heat hitting me again like a slap, and tug my hoodie off with one hand, letting the salt breeze wrap around my arms.

I’m still soaking in the house when I hear voices behind me. Female.

I turn.

A separate SUV has parked, and a group of girls climbs out, all of them wearing crop tops, cutoffs, and that same gleam in their eyes I saw back at the general store.

My stomach drops.

No.

Seriously?

The girls from the store?

I watch one of them—the blonde who was flirting with Jace at the fridge—flip her hair and laugh as she slinks toward the house like she’s done it before.

I blink. Hard.

It was that easy?

A smile, a laugh, and a gas station parking lot was all it took?

They just agreed to come?

I cross my arms, jaw tightening. The Florida heat doesn’t feel like the only thing suffocating me anymore.

Dom walks past, duffel slung over his shoulder, and doesn’t even glance their way. He’s already seen this before. Probably a hundred times.

Jace?

He hasn’t gotten out yet.

But if these girls are here...

He invited them.

And that little flicker of warmth I felt seeing his house?

Snuffed out.

I don’t wait for Dom or anyone. The second I see the blonde from the store walk up the steps to Jace’s beach house like she’s on a tour, laughing like she belongs here, I’m done.

I storm toward the trunk, yanking it open harder than necessary.