Page 2 of Never Say Never

Heat pricks at the back of my neck and then travels down my spine. These two are entirely too handsome for their own good. And they know it. Just about every girl in Reed Point has shamelessly thrown themselves at them at one point or another.

The last thing I need is to be subjected to their hard bodies flexing and straining and covered in a sheen of sweat as they whack a pickleball. No, thank you. I’ll pass on that special kind of torture.

Before I can snap out a response, Briar is at my side.

“Did I hear ‘doubles?’ We’re in!” she tells them with a bright smile. “Let’s split up the teams—no offence, guys, but Daisy and I would kill you two.”

What I want—which is to get as far away from these two as I can—doesn’t seem to matter because all of three seconds later Holden and Briar are headed to the other side of the court. Tucker tosses the ball in the air and catches it again, looking entirely unbothered. In fact, he looks like he’s enjoying this, levelling me with that smirk that I know all too well.

Ugh. Fine, Tuck. You win.

Tucker Collins can be irritatingly charming when he wants to be. I’ve known him my entire life, and I’ve seen him turn that charm on and off more times than I can count.

“So, you didn’t want to lock lips with Dr. Dick?” Tucker’s blue eyes pin mine as his smirk stretches into a wide grin. Great. He overheard my conversation with Briar.

“It’s Dr. Dickens, dumbass. And don’t be mean. Scott is a nice guy.”

One dark brow creeps upward. “A littletoonice, then? Didn’t know you had a dark side to you, rebel. Interesting.”

I glare at him. “Can we just play the game without you being an ass?”

“We can. But what fun would that be?”

For the last two and half decades, this is how it’s been between us. Ever since I can remember, Tucker and I have been riling each other up. You would think that growing up as neighbors and practically siblings, we would have eventually figured out a way to get along. Our families do absolutely everything together—vacations and birthday parties, backyard dinners in the summer, ski trips in the winter. Tucker’s mom and dad are my godparents. I’m even named after his mother! Our families arethattight.

Tucker and I, on the other hand…

“How did the doc take it when you turned him down?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you’re going to.”

I can’t help the aggravated sigh that escapes me. Tuck has always been protective of me—overly protective, in my opinion. It’s frustrating. There was a time that I loved the attention from him; I couldn’t get enough. Now I just wish he would learn to stay out of my private life.

“Tucker, I’m pretty sure we’ve been over this before, but who I choose to date is none of your business.”

Why do I let him rile me up like this? It’s not like I have feelings for Tucker. The thought of kissing him makes me nauseous.

Except for that one time. If I let myself, I can still remember the way his lips felt, soft and pillowy against mine. But that is ancient history. A moment, a blip. There’s no way I’d let that happen again.

“You will always be my business, Daisy. We’re family. It’s my job to make sure you’re not dating some douche-canoe.”

If I was annoyed before, now I am livid. It takes effort to unclench my jaw as I glare at him. “For starters, Scott is a doctor. He might be a bit dry, but he is not a ‘douche-canoe.’ Second, you and me... we’re not family.”

Tucker flinches and for a second, I worry that my words have caused him pain. Immediately, a guilty feeling takes hold of me. Tuck is right, as much as I hate to admit it. For all intents and purposes, we are family. His mom and dad are second parents to me. His older sister Addy is the sister I’ve never had.

His gaze holds mine and I can feel my cheeks flush, betraying me. We’re interrupted by the sound of Holden loudly clearing his throat from across the net.

“Ready to get this game going or what, Daisy-Cakes?” I look over to see Holden with his game face on. I nod. I’m ready to get this game and this entire afternoon over with. Pronto.

I take my position and then swing my racket through the air, serving the pickleball as hard as I can. I grip the handle of my paddle as Briar volleys the ball back to our side of the court and then I smack it back across the net with more force than necessary. The ball bounces off the asphalt just inside the sideline, making it impossible for Holden to reach it.

“Sniper,” Holden says with an easy laugh as he retrieves the ball.

Too bad the shot wasn’t aimed at Tucker’s head.

TWO

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