“Play better, sweetheart,” I tell him, twirling my racket in a dainty spin.
“You’re a mean badminton player,” he informs me.
“What’s a matter, songboy? Can’t handle the heat?”
“Songboy? Don’t make fun of music.”
“I’m not making fun of music. I’m making fun ofyou.”
After my next serve, our rally hits ten volleys. We’re both panting by the time I miss the eleventh return.
Sweat drips down Wyatt’s temple as he raises his racket again. “Prepare to eat my shuttlecock, Logan.”
“That sounds so wrong,” I reply through a wave of laughter.
We’re both starting to glisten. Sweat is dripping between my breasts and coating my face. I call a time-out and jog to the cooler to grab some ice cubes. I rub them over my neck and collarbone, sighing happily at the cooling sensation. It doesn’t even occur to me I might be acting seductive until Wyatt eyes me over the bottle of water he’s chugging.
“Freckles,” he warns, wiping water off the side of his mouth.“You need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“I don’t know. Trying to tempt me.”
My jaw drops. “You are so full of yourself.”
“Really? So rubbing ice all over your tits is not for my benefit?”
“Is it working?” I challenge.
“So youaredoing it.”
“No, I’m just saying, if you think I’m trying to tempt you and you’re being tempted, then maybe the problem is yours.”
We stare at each other.
“This fucking dynamic,” he mutters.
Yes, it’s very strange. I’ll give him that. We argue all the time. Constantly goading each other, testing each other. But it’s not hostile. He just draws out emotions in me.
That and he’s so gorgeous I can’t think straight. The sun is making the sheen of sweat on his chest glisten, tracing the delicious cut of his abs. My mouth waters as I watch a bead of sweat drip from the curve of his collarbone and slide down his torso, winding a path through the light dusting of hair that arrows into his waistband.
“I’m not trying to tempt you,” I say, finding my voice. “I’m overheated.” I pop an ice cube into my mouth and crunch it loudly between my teeth. “Come on. Let’s continue the game so I can finish embarrassing you.”
We’re drenched in sweat by the time we call it quits. Wyatt emerges the victor, but I’m genuinely impressed with myself. I didn’t expect to be this good at badminton of all things. Maybe I’ll put some real effort into this family tournament the dads are planning.
I flex my right wrist, finding it surprisingly tender. “Jeez. Who would’ve thought flicking a shuttlecock would make me this sore?”
Wyatt sighs. “Please don’t ever use the phraseflicking ashuttlecockagain.”
“Too sexy?”
“Obviously.”
Grinning, I set my racket on top of the cooler. “I’m going to take a shower and then fix some lunch. What do you want to eat?”
“Burgers?” he suggests.
“Sure. I’ll prep some sides when I’m out of the shower.”
