“You need—”
“The clock’s ticking, so I don’t have time to explain. What’s a good snack for eight-year-old kids? And don’t fuck around. I need thebestthing you can think of.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Am I being unclear in my directive?” I checked the time again. “And I’m gonna need you to hurry up about it or Aiden’s going to win.”
There was jostling on the other end, and then Aiden’s voice came across the line, “Aiden already won. You’re disqualified for cheating.”
“Cheating! I didn’t—” I came to an abrupt halt as I turned the corner into an aisle, finding Aiden and Beck standing next to each other, Beck’s phone held out between them.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the cheater now.” Aiden crossed his arms, basket filled with graham crackers, jumbo marshmallows, and about five different candy bars hanging from his forearm. Gourmet s’mores—son of a bitch, that was a fantastic idea. Not exactly the healthiest option, but we were trying to win over a bunch of eight-year-olds here, not their parents.
“I’m not a cheater,” I said, pocketing my phone.
“No? Did you or did you not call Beck for help?” Aiden asked.
“Did you or did you not fail to mention that as a stipulation in the rules?” I raised a brow, and his jaw ticked.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. Your time is up, and your basket is empty.” He jerked his chin toward it. “Ergo, I win.”
I threw my hand in the air. “This is bullshit. I didn’t even get a chance to shop. Chelsea accosted me the second our time started, and she wouldn’t stop talking. Are my ears bleeding?” I turned my head for them to look. “I feel like they’re bleeding. I’m going to have to take a shower when I get home because her perfume is clinging to me.” I lifted my shirt and took a whiff, wrinkling my nose. “Jesus. I’ve put out fires that haven’t hung around this much. And now you’re telling me that not only do I have to go to her wedding—with a date, by the way—but I also lost the bet, so I have to figure out fundraising too?”
Completely unmoved by my speech, Aiden shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Why the hell do you have to go to her wedding?” Beck asked.
“Long story,” I said. “But just know I should win by default after having to be in that woman’s presence for that long. I would’ve rather waxed my entire body than have a conversation with her. Would’ve rather stripped and run down Main Street naked during a Nor’easter, or eaten a bucket of grasshoppers, or finally allowed Mabel to—”
My words cut off as a flash of yellow caught my eye out the front windows of the store, and my dick woke the fuck up from his slumber.
“Finally allowed Mabel to…?” one of my brothers asked, but I didn’t bother responding.
Quinn Cartwright stood at the flower cart just outside, her bright-yellow dress accentuating every one of her mouthwateringly lush curves. Her golden blond hair hung in loose waves down to her shoulders, and the sun made it look like a halo around her head.
But she was no angel.
An angel wouldn’t enjoy tormenting me day in and day out. And shedidenjoy it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say tormenting me was the sole reason she’d moved back to Starlight Cove after more than a decade away. A decade when I’d finally been able to ignore her siren call and get on with my life. The worst part was, she had no idea the hold she had over me. Or maybe she did, and this was all part of her master plan. To see just how far the gorgeous little demon could push me before I snapped.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, checking the time, and pressed my lips into a thin line. Yep, 5:26 on the dot.
“So fucking predictable,” I muttered.
“Seriously, man? Again? This is starting to get a little creepy…” One of my brothers, again, but I still ignored them, too focused on the pain in my ass who was looking a little too much like sunshine for my liking, considering her level of pleasure seemed to be in direct correlation to how much she could irritate me on any given day.
Quinn placed her order at the flower cart—I didn’t have to be a lip-reader to know it was a mixed bouquet with pink peonies—like she did every Tuesday after work. Didn’t the woman have even an ounce of self-preservation? Didn’t she know she needed to shake up her routine once in a while? Jesus Christ, I thought that was Safety 101.
Despite the fact that this was Starlight Cove—a tiny pocket of paradise on the Maine coast with a crown of forest on one end and a picturesque downtown on the other, where the last serious crime had been a couple of teenagers graffitiing a penis on a public mailbox—she was still a single woman who refused to deviate even a millimeter from her daily schedule. And sharp as her tongue might be, it wasn’t going to scare off a would-be attacker.
She smiled at Terrance, laughing at whatever the florist said, and something tugged in my chest. That was a look I’d never been on the receiving end of from her. Scorn? Yes. Malice? Definitely. Anger, rage, frustration? Absolutely.
Happiness? Never.
It’d been a fun game we’d been playing since high school when we’d been paired up in nearly every class we’d had together all the way up until we’d competed for valedictorian. And it was something that had started right back up again her first day back in Starlight Cove. I’d been ready to bury the hatchet because I’d never had a problem with her in the first place. Quite the opposite, actually.
She, however, had not been ready to forget about the past.
We’d nearly run into each other as she strolled out of the post office. I could see an apology had been on the tip of her tongue, but she’d swallowed it as soon as she’d realized it was me and instead sent a glare in my direction. And my dick, the little bastard, had twitched in my jeans at the attention from her.
