NOLAN
It’sthe kind of morning that smells like sunscreen, ego, and imminent humiliation. Welcome to the ATV relay challenge—White Thorn’s idea of team building, corporate bonding, and bloodsport all in one.
The stakes?
Bragging rights, a luxurious dinner, and a strategic advantage in the pitch competition.
The real prize?
Watching your rival eat your dust. Literally. Because in five minutes, we’re all about to launch down the sand in souped-up death carts while pretending this is just “fun.”
It’s not fun though.
It’s war.
With helmets. And eye protection.
I should be focusing. Strategy. Speed. Securing an early lead in the challenges.
But my mind is firmly stuck on last night. On the way Rorie’s eyes found mine across the candlelit table at dinner. How she kept catching me looking. And the fact that she never looks away.
And later, when the night had gone quiet and everyone retreated to their cottages, we lay in bed with only one thought pulsing behind my eyes: is she falling for me as hard as I’m falling for her.
God, I hope the answer’s yes.
Rorie’s stretching by her ATV now, completely unaware she’s single handedly sabotaging my mental stability. Lavender workout shorts. Fitted tank top. High ponytail bouncing with every move. She’s temptation wrapped in sunshine and sass.
My traitorous brain wanders straight to grabbing that ponytail. Fisting it. Tilting her head back. Letting my mouth trail down her slender neck before I slide my cock into her pussy.
Jesus. Get it together, Rhodes.
I tear my eyes away, forcing myself to focus before I end up pitching a tent in my race gear. When I glance back, she’s laughing at something Jeremy said, shaking her head, biting her lip, and that laugh? That’s the real problem. It hits me right square in the chest.
Yeah. I’m fucked.
But I love it.
Shelby steps up to the mic, and the crowd gathers. Rorie’s behind me now. I don’t need to look, I feel her. Like static in the air before a storm.
“Alright, competitors,” Shelby says. “Relay format—one rider per round. You’ll tag in your teammate at each checkpoint. The course is marked, but don’t let that fool you. We’ve added some… spice.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
“First leg: Maya for The Laurel Group versus Rishi from Big Stream. Then Jeremy and Nolan. Final stretch? Rorie against Jackson.”
She keeps going, rattling off the rest of the brackets, but my focus flatlines the second I hear that last matchup.
My head snaps toward Rorie. She’s already looking at me. And not with fear. Not with nerves.
With fire.
Which should settle me. But it doesn’t. Because Jackson’s not just fast, he’s cutthroat. The guy plays dirty and smiles through it. And Rorie’s pride in a power ponytail, but I’ve seen how Jackson gets under people’s skin.
And if he so much as tries that with her…
My jaw tightens. I don’t like this matchup. Not one damn bit.
“Try to keep up, Rhodes.”
