Page 38 of Some Like It Hott

Pretty sure I can take Shane.

“Okay,” I concede and turn to face my brother. “You’re on.”

19

Preston

Shane, Natalie, and I stand in line, waiting for my turn in the Jell-O pit.

“Good thing you didn’t wear a suit,” Natalie says, eyeing me up and down in a way that I like way more than I should.

“If I were wearing a suit, no way would I agree to this,” I say.

I’m wearing cutoff sweats and a T-shirt—clothes I can stand to sacrifice to the god of purple Jell-O.

Natalie is wearing a pair of capri leggings and another of her tunic tops, this one a tank. Her arms are luscious, bare expanses of satiny skin. I can’t look too directly at them, or I start to think about what that skin would feel like under my tongue. What the rest of her would feel like.

“Next,” Kane Wilder—Jell-O pit supervisor—says. Natalie gives me a shove in the small of my back, and I step forward.

“Who’s your opponent?”

“I am,” Shane says, stepping forward next to me.

By this point, the pool has largely lost its audience because all the kids have moved on to playing some kind of mammoth game of capture the flag, the older kids keeping the younger ones in line. And I’m grateful for that at least.

“Oh, this should be good.”

I turn to see Hanna standing next to Quinn and Natalie.

“I put my money on Shane. He has a personal trainer,” Hanna says. “And this guy”—she gestures at me—“he’s got a desk job.”

She’s grinning, and I’m feeling pretty good about actually doing something that makes my sister happy instead of angry and miserable.

“Shit,” Shane says suddenly, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “I have to take this. Natalie,” he says, “will you take over for me? You’re my champion. Your victory is my victory. Tickets to my next premiere if you win.”

What? What fresh hell is this? I glare at my brother, then turn the glare on Natalie, willing her to refuse. Not because I don’t want to have my hands all over her in a pool of Jell-O. I do. Way too much.

It’s exactly the sort of situation I should avoid with her. Like playing with sex toys and getting a couples massage and smashing things.

I’m batting a thousand.

Natalie doesn’t refuse. Instead, she beams at Shane. “Ofcourse,” she says. “I would kill for those tickets. Wrestling your brother into submission should be a piece of cake and would be my great honor.”

Wrestling your brother into submission.

That should not be sexy.

And yet blood has reversed itself from key locationslike my fucking brainand reoriented itself to where I definitely don’t need any more of it.

“Don’t let him wimp out,” Shane instructs Quinn and Hanna, then swipes his phone and jogs off, saying “Ernst? What’s up?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hanna says darkly. “Nowayhe’s wimping out. He owes me some good entertainment.”

They’re seriously going to watch me Jell-O wrestle my hot coworker. That’s?—

Probably illegal in several states.

Kane Wilder has been watching and listening with more amusement than I think is warranted. Now he says, “Okay, people, let’s keep this moving. Lots of demand for the Jell-O pool. Hop in.”

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