Page 37 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

It’s time to get out of here.

I whirl around, estimating that it’s only about ten steps to the back door. I can slip through the dark, quiet house and disappear while chaos continues to reign supreme out here.

It’s not that I’m disgusted by frivolity, or too much of a baby to handle some wet clothes. It’s just that I’m a grown man and I can’t remember the last time I had a freakingwater balloon fight. Maybe never. I didn’t have many chances to mess around and wreak havoc as a kid, given that I was always being toted around from film set to film set by my mother.

I struggle with silliness. Lighthearted, childish fun is a difficult concept for me to grasp. I can’t let go and give in to foolishness like everyone else currently is. There’s something that stops me—something tense and cold in the center of my chest that reminds me not to be so vulnerable. To keep my guard up. To hide away in my comfortable, quiet corner of the world all by myself. Even if it means most people won’t like me, it’s better that way.

I’ll just spoil the fun if I stick around.

As soon as I get the back door in my sights and manage about three steps toward it, an avenging angel blocks my path.

Lucy, armed with a balloon in either hand, stands before me. Her dark eyes are alight with the dampened flames, and her long hair is wild and tangled with leaves from sneaking through the woods.

She grins at me menacingly. I freeze, forcing myself not to take an automatic step back.

“I knew you’d try to make a speedy exit,” she says, creeping a step closer.

For some reason, I can’t bring myself to move.

I can, however, be a rude idiot.

“I don’t like stupid, childish pranks,” I retort.

Behind us, the backyard is a symphony of shouts, laughter, swishing footsteps through damp grass, and occasional splashes as balloons find their target. It’s a wonder the neighbors don’t bellow at us to stop. Then again, it’s barely nine o’clock. Plus, practically the whole town will be in attendance at the weddingtomorrow. It’s not like they’re going to chastise the bride and groom for having a bit of fun the night before.

Lucy rolls her eyes at my comment. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Neither have you.”

Her grin twists into a smirk. She lifts her balloon-loaded hands. “I hope your fancy Rolex is waterproof.”

Itis, but that’s definitely not the point.

I glare at her, my knees instinctively bending to prepare for a quick getaway.

“Don’t you dare,” I tell her.

Somewhere not far behind me, a sharpsmack-splashis followed by a defeated bellow from one of the guys.

“Have mercy!” he yells. Akim, I think. I don’t dare take my eyes off Lucy to check. “I surrender! Please!”

“We take no prisoners!” croons his lady attacker.

Anothersmack-splash.

I find my lips twitching, the urge to smile almost winning out over my annoyance at Lucy. This whole thingispretty funny.

Lucy reels back, preparing to chuck a balloon directly at my face.

“Don’t,” I growl.

I should’ve known better. I should’ve tried reverse psychology.

With a cackle, she lobs a balloon straight at me.

By some miracle of agility I didn’t know I was capable of, I step back and duck quickly, just narrowly avoiding getting hit. I’m not fast enough to avoid the second balloon, though. It collides against the side of my face before I can straighten back up to my full height.

I splutter, shaking my head like a dog, and feel the cold water trickling down my neck and seeping into the fabric of my shirt.

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