Page 25 of Lowering His Guard

“Did to.”

I slap my hand on his mouth. Or, at least, that’s the idea. I end up waving my hand in the air.

He looks down. His blue eyes sparkle with amusement and I get lost in those eyes and nearly forget why I was slapping his mouth in the first place.

“You missed.”

“Did not.”

“You hit my chin.”

“Got you to stop saying mean things about Mer-Mini, didn’t I? Mission accomplished.”

“Leave Mer-Mini.” He sounds as if he’s choking on the name. I bite my tongue before I laugh at him. It’s not nice to laugh at people. Even ridiculously tall football players. “I’ll drive.”

“Fine. But if you hit Sammy, we are having words.”

“Sammy? What are you talking about?”

I roll my eyes. “Sammy the seal. What other Sammy would I be talking about?”

He places his hand on my shoulder and guides me toward his car. I nearly jump at the zing of electricity I feel from him touching me. I wonder how electric it would feel if he touched me other places. Down, girl. There’s a child present.

“Shotgun!” Jace races in front of us. He stops in front of a gigantic SUV. I’m going to need a running start to reach the seat. Or maybe there’s a ladder?

“Backseat,” Brock orders. Jace smirks before climbing into the backseat.

I grasp the door handle but Brock bats my hand away. “Got it,” he grumbles.

How can he sound disgruntled when he’s being a gentleman? No idea but he manages.

He opens the door. I tilt my head and study the height. How am I—

I squeal when Brock lifts me up and places me in the seat. “There you go, pint-sized.”

I want to argue with him about calling me pint-sized, but I’m too busy enjoying the warmth of his hands on my hips. His breath on my neck as he leans over me to secure the seatbelt in place.

Brock Porter is not my type. He’s huge and grumpy and plays a sport I don’t know anything about. My body doesn’t care. It longs to lean into him. To have him wrap his arms around me. To have him—

“Let’s bet on who’s going to win,” Jace says and cuts off my thoughts of all the dirty things I want to do with his dad.

I blow out a breath. Single dad. Football player. Mainlander who will leave the island in two months.

Reminding myself of all the reasons Brock isn’t right for me, does nothing to stop my heart from galloping in my chest when he squeezes my hip before shutting the door.

I nibble on my bottom lip as he climbs into the driver’s seat. No one said I have to have a relationship with Brock. We could just have some good old-fashioned sweaty between the sheets fun.

It’s what a hippie surfer would do. And I did decide to revive my hippie surfer ways for the summer.

Chapter 9

Rule #3: Never want what you can't keep.

Brock

“You suck,” Jace taunts as he returns his helmet.

May glares at him. “I don’t suck. You cheat.”