Page 5 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

I wipe myself off on the towel I brought earlier to the edge of my bed and make my way to the window.

Peering out, the cool night air is a slap to my overheated skin, but it's nothing compared to the jolt in my gut when I spot them—two women looking frantic. One's got fiery curls escaping her ponytail like she's been through a storm, which, judging by her agitated gestures, she probably has. Next to her, the other lady bounces on the balls of her feet with all kinds of wild hand gestures.

"Great," I mutter, feeling the telltale twinge that confirms my night's taken a turn to frustration. Blue balls are a guarantee now, a punishment for being neighborly. With a resigned sigh,I grab a pair of jeans from the floor—because decency dictates I can't show up pantsless, even if my upper half is still showing off last summer's tan lines and this season's gym gains. Time to play good Samaritan... or at least find out why my almost-orgasm got interrupted.

"Damn," I curse under my breath, feeling the cool air hit my chest—goosebumps traveling across my skin. I should probably grab a shirt, but the urgency in the ladies’ voices through the windowpane has me bolting for the door instead.

I fumble with the lock, and then I'm out the door as the porch light flicks on automatically.

"Control yourself, Dakota," I whisper-chide myself. "Can't have you looking like some Pavlovian mutt at the sight of damsels in distress."

I jog down the driveway. The sound of running water and muffled curses grows louder as I approach the neighboring house, where two women stand on the porch, flustered and phone-lit.

"Hey," I call out, managing to inject a hint of calm into my voice despite the tension knotting in my lower belly. "Need a hand?"

The one with auburn curls pinned back eyes me like she's sizing me up. Her silk green tank top pajama set clinks to her wet body as the cool breeze makes her nipples hard. That green color matches her gorgeous eyes.

She clears her throat and crosses her arms over her chest to break my lust filled daze. So what that she caught me. It’s nothing out of the norm for me. Afterall, my boldness is half the reason I have to call my friends at least once a weekend to come pick me up and get me out of my late-night escapes from women’s beds. Once those women have been satisfied and my release has been completed, it’s time to get the hell out of there. I’m not even in their beds long enough for the relationship word to even be mentioned.

The other lady standing with Miss Green Eyes is petite with a playful glint despite the crisis. She gives me a quick, assessing glance. Her eyes linger just long enough on my abs that I feel a mix of pride and a pang of lost opportunity.

"Uh, yeah," Miss Green Eyes says. "It's raining indoors, if you can believe it."

"Lead the way," I reply with a grin.

We troop inside, but even before we hit the stairs, I hear the water downpouring that’s probably coming from the attic. We make our way up there, and yep—a hot water heater spewing uncontrollably.

"Looks like your heater's had a major blowout. Since this house is similar to mine, I think I know where the main shut off valve is. I’ll run down to turn off the water, but you ladies grab what you can salvage of your things and meet me outside.

Chapter 5-Harmony

Our supposedly idyllic vacation home now stands as nothing more than a drowned rat.

"What a clusterfuck, Marina. We plan this getaway for months, and it gets flooded out before the end of our first night."

"Literally." With a sigh beside me, she scrolls through her phone, likely searching for nearby hotels or rentals, but it's Spring Break and high season at Love Beach.

When the neighbor appears from around the back of the house, he looks like he’s got the confidence of someone who owns the place – which, judging by the look of him, wouldn't be a stretch. He's all relaxed muscles under sun-kissed skin with bright hazeleyes. His casually tousled brown hair almost seems designed to highlight the natural charm he exudes.

"I'm Dakota Miles." His voice is smooth, the kind that probably gets him into all sorts of trouble – or out of it. He extends a calloused palm toward us.

"Harmony Baker," I reply, my grip firm despite the unexpected flutter in my stomach as I shake his hand. "And this is Marina Wells."

"Charmed," Marina says, her tone polite but distant. She's always been better at keeping her cool around men like him.

"Sorry about your place," Dakota continues with a sympathetic tilt of his head towards the rental.

"Thanks," I manage, not sure what else there is to say. It's clear Dakota's the type who thrives on attention, his every move seemingly calculated to draw the eye. As much as I'm determined not to be another notch on his belt, there's no denying he's caught my interest.

"Are you part of the Charleston Renegades?" Marina asks, ever the hockey fan. Her eyes roam over his athletic build in a way that's anything but subtle.

"Guilty as charged." Dakota winks. "Center."

"Figures," I mutter under my breath. Maybe it's the way he balances that cockiness with charm, but I can't quite dismiss him as just another jock. There sure seems to be something more than just those abs.

Dakota's eyes flicker between us, his brow furrowing slightly as if he's wrestling with some internal debate. Then, as if coming to a decision, he flashes that million-dollar smile again.

"Listen, I know this might sound crazy, but... I hate to see you ladies stranded like this. Why don't you stay at my place tonight?"

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