But he just graduated from Yale Law School. Why would he ever go on a show like this? I doubt he’s watched more than a handful of episodes. There are a million other ways he could spend his summer. Like celebrating his educational successes with a trip to the Maldives or vacationing on his family’s yacht while people feed him grapes. But no, instead he gets his amusement from crushing my dreams. Rich kid problems. I guess when you have enough money, monetary things hold less excitement and you have to look elsewhere for your entertainment.
I shake my head and sigh. “Colton—of all people. How did this happen? I’m even wearing my Lucky Louis.”
I wiggle my toes in my sparkly, secondhand Louis Vuittons that Ji and Paige gifted me before I competed in the Miss Teen Colorado State pageant. The Louis had come into my life right after Colton lost my very first lucky charm back in high school—a glow-in-the-dark star that had been a boon to me during one of the most difficult times of my life. Losing it was like losing a friend—a friend Colton had taken from me.
Fortunately for Colton, my Louis did a good job of filling the void. I’d won both Miss Teen Colorado State and Miss Tennessee State pageants while wearing them. They are my lucky little babies.
I try my best to channel any negative energy down my body and out through my shoes, but to no avail. Colton and our impending partnership stay firmly planted in my mind.
“Oh no, maybe the luck of the Louis is … wearing off.” Ji’s voice drips with sarcasm as she brushes a wisp of shiny black hair behind her ear.
I skewer her with a look, and she replies with an innocent smile.
“If something bad happened in the Lucky Louis, then there must be a reason for it,” Paige says, echoing the words I said to her after she’d borrowed the Louis nearly two years ago, only to have a terrible day … a terrible day that ended up propelling Paige and Jordan further into their feelings for each other.
Paige gives me a knowing look, and Jordan wraps an arm around her shoulders, kissing the crown of her head.
“I think they’re pretty lucky.” Jordan smiles warmly at his wife.
“Dare you doubt the Louis?” Miles says, looking back and forth from me to the cuteness explosion that is Jordan and Paige.
“If you’re thinking that Colton and I being partnered together is some stroke of luck, then you’re a few cards short of a deck. Unless that luck includes Colton accidentally falling off a cliff in the US Virgin Islands.” I cross one leg over the other and lean back in my chair with my arms folded across my chest. A small smirk curves my lips. A girl can dream.
The sound of tires on pavement breaks through my fantasy. The kitchen blinds aren’t even open, but I don’t have to see Colton’s fancy Beamer to know that he’s here. I stifle a groan and ready myself for war.
Ji leans over and peeks through the kitchen blinds. “It’s Colton.” She stands and leans toward me before starting for the front hallway. “Play nice. I want a fair fight.”
“If you’re thinking that Colton and I being partnered together is some stroke of luck, then you’re a few cards short of a deck. Unless that luck includes Colton accidentally falling off a cliff in the US Virgin Islands.” I cross one leg over the other and leanback in my chair with my arms folded across my chest. A small smirk curves my lips. A girl can dream.
The sound of tires on pavement breaks through my fantasy. The kitchen blinds aren’t even open, but I don’t have to see Colton’s fancy Beamer to know that he’s here. I stifle a groan and ready myself for war.
Ji leans over and peeks through the kitchen blinds. “It’s Colton.” She stands and leans toward me before starting for the front hallway. “Play nice. I want a fair fight.”
Chapter 2
COLTON
I approach the old Victorian-style house precisely seven minutes after we end the video call with Shannon. I’m moments away from knocking on Missy and Ji’s front door when Ji swings it open. As always, Ji looks stylishly put together, dressed in flowy business slacks and a cream blouse, reminding me of something my mother would wear to one of her Women of Politics luncheons, which, come to think of it, Ji and her boss, Mrs. Delgado, were probably the event planners for.
“Nice of you to join the party,” Ji says, ushering me inside the house with her hand and a look that saysThis should be interesting.
“Party or funeral?” I ask.
“The jury’s still out, esquire,” Ji quips, amused.
“Funeral. May Colton rest in pieces.” Missy throws me a lethal stare from where she stands at the end of the entryway hall, folding her arms across the jean dress that hugs her hourglass curves. Though, objectively speaking, her ensemble tonight looks nice, it’s instantly overshadowed by her sparkly lucky shoes. Of course she’d be wearing those shoes tonight. She always does whenever it’s something important, but why, I don’t know. Missy doesn’t need luck. She’s already a walking rabbit-foot. If she wants something, she gets it. Prom Queen. Check. Full-ride scholarship to the University of Tennessee. Check. Miss Tennessee State. Check. Contestant on her favorite show. Check.
Missy gives me a smile that some might say belongs to a princess who sings to animals in the woods, but I know better. Behind that perfect smile is a vicious piranha ready to bite my head off if I get too close.
“Hey, Miss. If you wanted me to yourself, you didn’t need to nominate us. You simply had to ask,” I say, stoking the fire I know is already raging inside her.
“I’ll go get some popcorn.” Ji exits the front hallway and turns into the kitchen, leaving me with Missy Cat, claws out and ready to pounce.
You’d think after over a decade of knowing each other, we’d have worked out our differences, but we can’t resist. After years of insulting each other’s characters, we’re in too deep to let bygones be bygones. Enraging each other is a sport—one we are both professionals at.
Missy stalks toward me, her hazel eyes boring a hole in my skull, the intensity at odds with her soft golden hair and glittering accessories. She stops several feet from me. With her heels on, Missy is several inches shy of my 6’2” height. Without her heels … Well, I couldn’t say how tall she is—she’s prettymuch been wearing them since I met her my freshman year of high school.
Missy raises a polished pink finger, pointing it at my chest. “You. You told all of us you were going to be gone this summer doing some job thing or … something!”
