Текст книги "Playing the Player"

Автор книги: Lisa Brown Roberts

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

Trina

Saturday, June 8

I read the date on the can of corn: May 5, 2007. I snorted and chucked the can into the trash barrel. What was wrong with people? Who donated ancient, expired food to a homeless shelter?

“Anything salvageable?”

I spun around, startled by the sound of Sharon’s voice.

“Don’t scare me like that.” I threw a can of expired peas into the trash.

Sharon grinned. All five feet ten inches of her was covered with dust, which was a shame because underneath the dust she wore a gorgeous outfit, as usual. She said she dressed up so she could be a good role model to the moms who stayed in the shelter with their kids.

“So far, nothing at all from this load.” I frowned. “Who dropped it off? I’d like to hunt them down.”

Sharon laughed, brushing dust out of her long, dark hair. “Beggars can’t be choosers, honey, you know that. Most of the time we can use the donations. But once in a while…” Her voice trailed away as she surveyed the nearly empty pantry shelves. “I was hoping we’d hit the mother lode with this donation, but I guess not.” She looked into the nearly full trash barrel and shook her head.

I felt horrible, even though I knew it wasn’t my fault the food I was sorting was unusable. The Redemption Shelter had been running low on food lately. Sharon said it wasn’t just Redemption; every place in town was having trouble keeping up with demand.

“Isn’t there something we can do?”

She shrugged. “I’ve reached out to all our regular donors.” She wiped dust off her forehead. “But I’ve got more urgent problems than food right now.”

My chest tightened. I’d been volunteering at Redemption for over a year. All of Sharon’s “clients,” as she called them, were homeless moms and their kids. Most of them were in pretty bad shape when they arrived. Scared. Hungry. Running from abusive men.

Sharon liked for me to spend time with the kids, reading to them and encouraging them to play on the ancient playground equipment in the rundown yard behind the shelter.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

Her dark eyes closed briefly behind her red cat-eye glasses. “Oh, it’s just…I’m tired, Trina. Things always look worse when I’m tired.”

I didn’t believe her, but I wasn’t sure how much I should pry. I tore open another box and started sorting. Expiration date 2003? Furious, I threw the can so hard it almost knocked over the trash can.

Sharon laughed. “You ever play softball?”

“No.” I laughed. “Maybe I should.”

She grinned at me. “Never too late, that’s my motto.” She opened the fridge and grabbed two sodas, then gestured for me to sit at the table.

“To summer,” Sharon said. We clinked our cans together. “So tell me about your summer. How’s the babysitting job?” She gestured toward the trash can. “I’m sensing some pent up tension from you.”

So much for burying myself in other activities to keep away thoughts of Slade. I shrugged. “It was a long week.”

“Yeah?” She brushed more dust off her blouse and shot me a grin. “Tell your Auntie Sharon all about it.”

The crazy thing was, I could tell her all about it. We talked about lots of stuff. She seemed so much wiser than me. Probably because she was.

“It’s just…the other nanny. He’s kind of…challenging.” I shifted in my chair, unable to get comfortable. Maybe it was the heat flooding through me as I remembered how Slade had looked at me yesterday.

She raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. “He? Do tell.”

“It’s not like that,” I said defensively.

Her penetrating gaze stayed pinned on me. I frowned when I saw her speculative half smile.

“It’s not!” I insisted. “We’re just…” What were we? Not friends. Not yet. Probably not ever. “Partners,” I said. “Just partners.”

“Mm-hmm.” She took a long drink, but kept her eyes on me. “And your partner is challenging you how, exactly?”

“He’s…unpredictable. But the kids love him. We don’t agree on anything. Yesterday he quit, but then he came back. And then I almost quit.”

Sharon folded her arms over the necklaces tangled across her blouse. “That’s a lot of drama for one day.”

I laughed softly. “Yeah, it was.”

“Sounds like emotions are running high between you two. Could be something else is going on.” This time she arched both eyebrows.

“Nothing else is going on,” I said. “Other than we sort of hate each other.”

That wasn’t entirely true. We’d ended on a good note yesterday, after the ice cream. He’d been really…decent. Thoughtful, even. I bit my lip, remembering how he’d held my car door open when we’d said good-bye. How he’d told me not to drive angry, imitating Bill Murray in that silly Groundhog Day movie my mom watched every Christmas.

“That’s what I thought,” she murmured.

“What?” I almost barked. “You thought what?”

“I see it on your face, sweetie. I don’t think you hate this boy. Not at all.”

Air escaped me like she’d popped the Trina balloon. “Okay, so I don’t hate him. But I don’t really like him, either.” I fiddled with the Flintstone salt and pepper shakers on the table. “I can’t figure him out.”

She snorted. “Welcome to the club, honey. You ever figure out the male brain, you let me know.”

“I’ll be the last person to do that.”

She smiled at me as she scooted her chair away from the table. “Well, you’ve got all summer to work on it.” She stood up. “Come on. I’ve got a ton of clothes to sort through.”

I followed her down to the basement, grateful for a task to keep my mind off the impossible problem of deciphering the male brain.

My phone pinged as I pulled another T-shirt from an overstuffed trash bag. Whoever had donated these had been obsessed with Star Wars. So far I’d found three Darth Vader shirts, two Yoda shirts, and two Luke Skywalker shirts.

Climbing wall. Indoor sky diving. Alligator wrestling. Two out of three are actual possibilities.

I tried to ignore the giddiness that shot through me at Slade’s text. I sent back: No way. Max will be too scared. Gilly will hurt herself trying to outdo all the other kids.

My phone pinged again. What ya got, then, BB? Besides a documentary.

BB? Still with the nickname, right to my face?

Not to your face, exactly. More like to your screen. Then he sent a bunch of smiley faces.

Before I could chicken out, I dialed his number. He answered on the first ring.

“It’s like when Alex and his gay friends call one another queer,” he said, before I could say anything. “It’s about embracing something meant to hurt, then claiming it as your own.”

“I think maybe I have the wrong number,” I said.

“Bird Brain was a stupid nickname,” he said. “I’m sorry I ever gave it to you.” I didn’t hear any laughter in his voice. “But maybe BB is just as bad. Another one of my failed attempts at humor.”

I was quiet for a few seconds. “No,” I said, “BB is cool. I can live with that.”

“Yeah?” he sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” I said.

We were both quiet. I wasn’t used to talking to guys on the phone. “So, uh, your ideas. They might work for you and Gilly, but I don’t know about Max.”

“What about you? Are you philosophically opposed to dangerous activities?”

I tugged at my hair. I had to be honest, or at least partially so. My body shivered at the thought of the secrets I was still keeping from him.

“I’m not much of a risk taker,” I said.

“Hmm.” His voice hummed in my ear, making me bite my lip. “Are you open to the possibility of becoming a risk taker?”

My heart sped up a little. “I prefer to stay on the ground.” I coughed nervously. “How about bowling? Or Putt-Putt golf?”

He chuckled. “I can see we’re going to have work up to zip-lining.”

I wished he could see me rolling my eyes.

“Putt-Putt golf could work,” he said. “We can take them to a movie after that.” He paused. “And by that I mean an actual movie with a plot, not a documentary.” I heard the smirk in his voice.

“That sounds great,” I said, relieved.

“So let’s meet at Gilly’s on Monday,” he said.

“It’s a date.” I immediately wanted to grab the words back.

“Sounds good,” he said, apparently unfazed by my faux pas. “Oh, and Trina? I read the binder. In its entirety.”

“You did?” My voice was a whisper.

“Yep. It’s a good thing you gave me my own copy. Seeing as how yours suffered an untimely demise.”

“That’s some might fancy words you’re using, Edmunds,” I drawled.

“Lots more where those came from. Just because I’m not on the honor roll like you doesn’t mean I couldn’t be.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. “You’d better not bring the binder with you on Monday. The kids will freak.”

“Binder of Doom rises from dead to torture innocent children.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You do know it has an index, right? And a table of contents?”

“So I’m thorough. There are worse things.”

“Name one.”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Um…not being thorough?”

His laughter made me shiver in all the wrong places.

“Okay, I give up, BB. You’ll never cop to the binder insanity. But you should get paid overtime for all the work you put into that thing.”

And just like that, the mention of overtime reminded me of the paycheck from his mom that I’d cashed that morning, snapping me out of whatever flirty haze I’d fallen into.

The happy juice flooding my system evaporated, replaced by guilt and…something else. Panic, maybe?

“Trina? Did you pass out or something? Should I take back the compliment so you can breathe?”

I glanced at Glen, Sharon’s handyman, who’d just clomped down the stairs with his tool belt, a man on a mission. He was a retired plumber or electrician or whatever, who volunteered at the shelter. I suspected he had a thing for Sharon.

“Look, I’ve gotta go, Slade. Glen needs me.”

“Who’s Glen? Where are you, anyway?”

“Never mind. I’ll see you Monday.” I disconnected before he could ask any more questions. Or toss out any more backhanded compliments that made me feel like a modern day Benedict Arnold.

Hours later, I typed up my first weekly report on Slade’s progress, distilling the crazy week to one short paragraph.

We got off to a rocky start but I’m hopeful next week will be smoother. Slade’s interactions with the kids are entertaining and surprisingly helpful. He has some unexpected skills, which are coming in handy.

I hoped there were no hidden nanny cams in Max’s house to reveal our reality TV show drama to the moms. What happened on our watch should stay just between us.

It was disconcerting to imagine Slade’s mom reading my email. Maybe she’d read it on her phone while they ate breakfast tomorrow, with Slade sitting across the table. The mini-movie playing in my head made my stomach roil.

How long could I keep up this charade?

Chapter Thirteen

Slade

Saturday, June 8

Usually I enjoyed hanging out at the club, but not today. I was lifeguarding, subbing for Lindsay, who’d sprained her ankle and called me in a panic.

It should’ve been a perfect day: lots of hot chicks to check out, friends to joke around with, and free food from the snack bar because the girls working there never charged me. But I was distracted.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Trina. BB. Whatever name I called her, it didn’t change the fact that she was taking up more way space in my head than she should.

This never happened. Or at least it hadn’t for a really long time, not since the evil Kristen had steamrolled my heart. Ever since then, I’d made sure not to get attached. I picked girls who weren’t interested in long-term relationships. Or if I accidentally did hook up with one of those girls, I bailed as soon as possible.

This thing with Trina was weirding me out. I wanted to stop obsessing over her, but it was like I had no control over my thoughts. Who was that Glen guy she’d mentioned on the phone? She’d said he “needed” her. For what? My jaw clenched as I imagined her entwined with some guy, some total player telling her how much he needed her.

Some guy just like me.

I looked at the shimmering water, the fluorescent swimsuits, the beach towels flung like discarded superhero capes across lounge chairs. This was my turf; I practically owned this pool, presiding over it like a king, bestowing jokes and favors on my minions.

But today I felt like an impostor.

Especially when a familiar blonde caught my attention with a wave and swam toward me. Crap. Evidently ignoring her texts wasn’t enough. I was going to have to do this the hard way.

I hoped Alex had his tissues ready.

“I swear it’s the last time,” I told Alex around a mouthful of chicken burrito. We sat at an outside table at Chipotle, inhaling our food. We’d swum laps together after my lifeguarding shift, and now it was like we couldn’t eat fast enough.

“Dude, get real. It’s the last time, until next month, or whenever you do this again and the next Barbie falls apart, begging me to tell her why you’re such an ass.” Alex crunched on a handful of tortilla chips. “Which, ya know, is a legit question. Why are you such an ass?”

I sucked from my straw, glaring at him. I’d spent the past twenty minutes trying to convince him that I wasn’t going to cause any more female meltdowns this summer, but he didn’t believe me.

“Remember our bet, dude?” he asked. “Why don’t you focus your energy on Bird Brain instead of breaking random hearts?”

He’d stumbled too close to the truth. “What bet?”

He snorted. “You forgot already? Cool. That’s an easy fifty bucks for me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I remember the bet. But like I told you before, even I can’t turn the Bird Brain into a party animal.” I cringed a little, calling her that.

“No signs of life, there, huh? Even after a full week with you and your magic moves?” Alex grinned wickedly. “At least with Trina I don’t have to worry that she’ll come crying to me. She can’t stand you.”

I grabbed my burrito and stuffed it in my mouth so I didn’t have to answer him.

Alex watched me closely. “She’s giving you crap, isn’t she?” He laughed. “Man, I wish I could be a fly on the wall with you two. It’s gotta be better than a World Wrestling match.”

I snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.” Though the idea of actually wrestling with Trina made me reach for my soda.

“How’s that crazy schedule of hers working out for the kids? Does she carry a stopwatch?”

I laughed, but then I pictured her in tears, surrounded by the shredded guts of her binder. I crumpled my burrito wrapper and threw it at him. Hard. It bounced off his head and landed on the floor.

He stuffed another handful of chips in his mouth and chewed, still watching me. I hated it when he turned all psychoanalyst. He was worse than my parents.

Then he twirled the straw around in his cup. “Soo,” he drawled, “maybe I’m wrong about Trina ending up crying on my shoulder? Is that horrific event in my future?

I stood up abruptly, my chair screeching behind me. “No,” I snapped. “It’s not. We’re partners. That’s it.”

Partners. That’s all we could be, or should be.

Nothing more.

Chapter Fourteen

Trina

Sunday, June 9

Desi and I sat by the fountain, munching on free pretzels. Since it was a hot Sunday afternoon, the mall was packed with people in need of free air conditioning. Screaming kids crawled over the indoor playground equipment.

“This is like a work day for you, right?” Desi asked. “Surrounded by screaming kids?”

“Not really. I just have two kids to deal with.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not counting Slade as kid number three anymore?”

“Um, I guess not. I think maybe he has…potential.”

“What type of potential? Are we talking personal or professional?”

I knew how I should answer. Strictly professional, of course. But a teeny voice in my mind whispered both.

Desi and I didn’t keep secrets from each other. It was our number one rule. But I’d been sitting on a giant secret, about the double salary and the secret mentoring. And now it felt like I was keeping another one, about my feelings for Slade.

“I think you just answered my question.” She beamed at me. “I knew it! I knew you didn’t have total immunity to the Slade spell.” Her smile morphed into a wide grin. “It’s perfectly understandable, you know. There’s not a girl alive who can resist him for long.”

I jerked upright in my chair. “It’s not like that. Just because I don’t totally hate him doesn’t mean I’m…” I took a deep breath. “I told you before. Slade and I have decided to alternate planning the days for the kids. So, to answer your question, the potential I see in him is strictly professional.”

Desi didn’t say anything. She worked on her pretzel, taking lots of small bites. Then she patted her lips with her napkin.

“Remember fifth grade?”

I blinked at her. It wasn’t like I had a highlight reel in mind.

“Remember Jack Wilson?”

Oh. That highlight reel. “What about him?”

Her lips quirked as she watched me squirm. “Just how you spent the whole year complaining about him and ragging on him, and then on the last day of school, I found you two smooching under the slide.”

“We weren’t smooching,” I protested. “He kissed me once. On the cheek.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s not what I saw. I definitely saw a lip lock.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’d hardly call it a lip lock. It was more like a peck.”

“Anyway…” She strung out the word to at least five syllables. “I’m just saying.”

“Saying what?”

Desi stood up suddenly. “My break’s almost over. But we will continue this conversation later.”

“Or not,” I muttered, standing up and gathering our trash.

“Oh, we will.” She put her hands on her hips, looking down at me. “You should know by now that you can’t keep any secrets from me.”

I bit the inside of my lip and turned away.

If she only knew.

Chapter Fifteen

Slade

Monday, June 10

Gilly was playing with her action figures when Max and I arrived. She’d tied them to the banister with a tangle of yarn and was trying to force her dog to rescue them. Trina watched her, looking perplexed. Sometimes I wondered if she’d ever been a kid.

Trina gave me half-hearted wave, but she looked tired, and paler than usual. Maybe it was a good thing we weren’t going indoor skydiving today. I’d expected a lecture for arriving late, but she didn’t say anything.

Gilly squealed at Max. “Maxie! Come help me. My heroes were kidnapped by aliens. They need to be rescued but Spike won’t help.” She glared at her non-heroic dog, whose tail wagged as I knelt down to pet him.

“Is there any coffee?” I asked. I’d wanted more at home, but hadn’t wanted to listen to another round of my parents’ never-ending debate about my future.

“Sure,” Trina said. “Mrs. Forrester brewed a fresh pot before she left for work.” She made a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “Guess I must look as tired as I feel.”

“Late night?” I teased, following her into the kitchen while the kids played on the staircase.

She paused, then turned around to hand me an empty cup. “Yeah.” Her mouth curved up. “It was a wild party. The cops came.”

I paused mid-pour to stare at her. “No way. Whose party?”

She actually laughed. She should do that more often. It would help her social life. A lot.

“I’m kidding.” She glanced out the kitchen window over the sink. “My mom works nights sometimes, and I don’t always sleep well when she’s not home.”

“What about your dad?” I asked.

“He’s in California. They divorced when I was seven. Mom and I moved here after—” She stopped suddenly, then looked down at her T-shirt, plucking at the hem. “I see him at Christmas. And for part of the summer.” Her eyes lifted and locked on mine. “That reminds me. I might spend a week with him in August, before school starts. You’d have both kids on your own. Think you can handle it, Super Nanny?”

I grinned. “Of course I can. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.”

Crap. Why did I use that lame expression? Now she’d think I thought she was pretty. Which I didn’t. Not really.

Her eyes widened in surprise, then she turned to pull snacks out of the pantry.

“Hey,” I said, “grab some of those awesome cookies for me.”

She shot me a disapproving look, which suddenly morphed into a smile. She was like a tiny sun, shining brightly one moment then covered with clouds the next.

The kids ran through the kitchen, Gilly holding superhero action figures over her head and screaming, “Save us! Save us!” Max ran behind her, flying Iron Man and making zooming noises. The dog brought up the rear, barking with excitement.

As Trina watched them, her smile deepened and, watching her lips, suddenly I thought of cherries

No. This could not happen. I sucked down the rest of my coffee, hoping the caffeine would clear my head.

“We should go,” I said, not looking at Trina. “It’s going to be hot today, so we can golf this morning, then spend the afternoon in the theater.”

“I’m ready,” Trina said. “But we have to lasso the kids.” She left the kitchen, calling their names.

I heard them giggling as their feet pounded up the stairs. I should help her chase them down, but I needed to reset my brain. Needed to delete the unwanted image of kissing Trina. Something was seriously wrong with me. She was so not my type. Why couldn’t Gilly’s mom have hired a hot European nanny?

“Come on, kiddos.” I heard her voice, muffled above me. “Time for miniature golf.”

Their footsteps pounded across the ceiling, then back down the stairs. They rushed into the kitchen, but I was ready. I jumped out from behind the counter and snatched them up, one in each arm. At first they were terrified, then they burst into hysterical giggles.

“Slade’s kidnapping me!” Gilly shrieked.

“Me, too!” Max hollered. “Trina, save us! Hurry!”

Trina didn’t hurry. She sauntered into the kitchen, hands on her hips, while the kids wriggled under my arms like puppies.

“Excellent work, Edmunds,” she said. “Let’s take them to the dungeon.”

“No!” They hollered at the top of their lungs, wriggling with excitement.

Trina grabbed her tote bag and we headed outside, the kids wailing like banshees under my arms.

“It’d be funny if someone called the cops, thinking we were kidnappers,” I said, strapping the kids into their booster seats.

Trina shook her head. “I’d hate to end up on the evening news. I need the money from this job.” She looked almost guilty.

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed. “I’m hoping to upgrade to a better car before school starts.”

“Your car’s nice,” she said, taking in my Jetta. “My mom and I share an old Honda.”

After a brief argument about whose playlist to listen to—which I won because Country kicks Indie’s ass—I tried to think of something that would take my mind off her lips.

“So what do you do on your days off from this torture?” I asked, merging my car onto the highway. “Besides recover from the kids?”

“Sleep in. Catch up on shows. Read. Do a little volunteer work. Visit Desi at the mall.”

I glanced at her. “Desi’s working at the mall? Where?”

“Pretzel Logic. You should stop by. She’ll give you free stuff, if you’re nice.”

“I’m always nice.” I made myself sound offended.

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Is this still about the Bird Brain thing? That was years ago, BB.” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, hoping she was smiling. She was.

“No, I’m over that,” she said. “But…. you’ve never really been nice to me. You’ve just kind of ignored me.”

She looked embarrassed, like maybe she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Whatever,” she continued, her words coming out in a rush. “You can’t be friendly to everyone. Who has time? But…” Her voice trailed away.

“But what?”

“The few times you did acknowledge me, you made fun of me.”

I didn’t make fun of people. It was against my code. I teased people, yeah, but never in a mean way. Most people liked being on the other side of the Slade mock. I racked my brain. I couldn’t think of anything other than the Bird Brain nickname.

“Name one time,” I said, feeling defensive and guilty.

“Last year in bio. You totally made fun of my binder.”

If I’d known how much havoc that binder would eventually wreak in my life, I’d probably have teased her even more.

“Huh,” I said. “Must’ve been a slow day for me to make fun of something so innocuous.”

I met her eyes, grinning, and she raised her eyebrows.

“Another SAT word.” She watched me closely. “Impressive.”

I focused back on the road, shifting gears sooner than I needed to. Did she think I was dumb? That shouldn’t surprise me; a lot of people did. I thought of Dad, and snarky comments he’d made about someday letting people know how smart I was.

He didn’t get why I didn’t follow the brainiac track. Mom got it, but I sensed even she was losing patience with me, now that college was looming. She’d pushed me hard to take the nanny gig, and she bugged me about it constantly, asking how it was going, pumping me for details.

“Anyway,” I said, taking the exit toward Funland, “sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to.”

“There was also the time you made fun of me for handing out flyers for boycotting Burger Bandit.”

We pulled into the parking lot and the kids unbuckled themselves faster than Trina and I did. I sort of remembered Trina’s boycott. Something about workers not being paid overtime? I focused on wrangling the kids while Trina opened the trunk.

“I don’t think we need their stuff. We’re just playing mini-golf.”

“You never know.” She retrieved the kids’ backpacks.

She’d be a great Eagle Scout.

The kids jumped up and down, totally spazzing out. I glared at them. “Max. Gilly. Freeze.”

“Geez, relax dude,” Trina said, smirking.

I stared at her. “You’re telling me to relax?”

A tiny smile played at her lips. “Yep. You should try it sometime. There’s this guy I know who’s always chilling. He thinks everything’s a joke. You could learn a thing or two from him.” Her smile deepened, then she grabbed Gilly’s hand and took off for the ticket window.

I stared after her until Max tugged at my hand. “Come on, Slade. They’re getting ahead of us.”

I blinked like someone slapped me. “You’re right, buddy. Let’s show them who’s the real boss.” I grabbed his hand and we took off running, cutting in front of Trina and Gilly at the ticket window.

“Hey!” Gilly yelled. “No fair. No cuts allowed.” She stomped her foot.

Trina cocked an eyebrow. “It’s okay, Gillian,” she said. “We’re going to play girls against boys today. And we’re going to win.”

I took two putters from the ticket guy and turned back to Trina. “In your dreams, BB.”

“Yeah,” Max echoed. “In your dreams, BB.”

Trina’s eyes widened, then she laughed, reaching out to tousle Max’s hair. Damn her for smiling and laughing like that. The thought of kissing those cherry lips popped back into my mind. I turned away, grabbing golf balls for Max and me.

This was going to be a long day if my stupid imagination kept spewing out images I didn’t want to consider—would not, could not consider.

Gilly tried to climb everything in sight, including the small tower with the windmill spinning on its turret. Max decided it was easier to roll his ball like he was bowling, rather than hit it with the club. Trina and I kept score for ourselves. She was surprisingly competitive, which, unfortunately, made her even more attractive to me.

“I play to win, Edmunds,” she told me on the first hole.

We were tied as we reached the last hole. I convinced Max and Gilly to have a silent contest. Kids yelling didn’t usually faze me, but I wanted to win. I sank my shot in two.

Trina crouched at the tee box, pointing her club like she was lining up for the tournament-winning shot at Augusta. She wore a red tank top, shorts, and flip-flops. When she stood up to make her shot, I noticed the awesome legs again.

Damn it. I was going to kill Alex. It was his fault that Trina was pinging my hookup radar. If he hadn’t suggested she was “visually interesting,” and made that stupid party girl bet with me, I never would’ve noticed.

Trina’s golf club thwacked her red ball, which shot straight under the bridge, rolled off the ledge, then headed right for the hole. The ball wobbled on the lip of the cup, then dropped in.

“Hole in one!” Trina yelled, jumping up and down. When she turned around, it was like she’d transformed into a totally new person, beaming and laughing. I stood frozen as she ran over to high five Gilly and Max, who’d broken their vows of silence to cheer her.

I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t move, either, because what I really wanted to do was wrap her in my arms and kiss her. Hard.

Shit. And double shit.

She bounced over to me, still laughing. “Don’t tell me you’re a sore loser, Edmunds.”

I glanced at her, afraid to do anything that would betray me. My forced smile was an epic fail. Her face, which had been glowing just seconds earlier, paled as she turned away. I felt awful, but no way could I let her guess what I was feeling.

Trina and the kids traipsed off to the clubhouse while I stayed where I was, wondering what to do. I couldn’t be an asshole to her, but I didn’t want to joke around with her either, because if I did, she’d smile and laugh with those cherry lips, and then I’d start thinking about kissing her again.

“Slade, come on!” Max waved from the clubhouse.

This was just some weird hormonal glitch. I needed to take care of Max. I’d focus on him and Gilly, not Trina. Get a grip, I told myself. Do your job. I ran toward the clubhouse.

Anyway, nothing would ever happen between Trina and me because, like Alex said, she couldn’t stand me.