Page 107 of Flirty Dancing

“You just said that didn’t matter!”

“Fine, you want to swap with me?”

Betty narrowed her eyes. “You know what? No. We’re going to destroy you.”

“Oh, yeah? Care to make it interesting?”

Archer groaned, aware that he was terrible at volleyball and there was about to be more at stake than bragging rights.

“What did you have in mind?” Betty asked, hands on hips.

An evil grin stretched across Dominik’s face. “Best of three. The losing duet partner has to pamper the winner for the day tomorrow, up until the show. Breakfast in bed, massage, whatever they want.”

Archer’s eyes snapped over to Mateo’s. He was looking back. Archer’s lips quirked.Interesting.Here’s a bet I don’t mind losing.

Betty snorted. “Deal. I like poached eggs for breakfast, no salt.”

Dominik snorted and started putting on a show stretching his shoulders. “Extra salt on mine, love.”

Betty shook hands with Dominik, then called her team over to the center of their court. “Okay, things got interesting. I think we all know how much is riding on this game, particularly how insufferable Dominik will become, and all the crazy shit he’s going to make me do. I need you to give it your all. Please. For me.”

“I apologize in advance—” Archer began.

“Not accepted,” Betty snapped. “You’re tall and strong and can jump ten feet in the air. I expect a lot from you, Archer.”

“Yeah, we can do this,” Caleb said, although Archernoticed him eyeing Ben, his duet partner, on the other side. He suspected that Caleb wouldn’t mind losing, either.

“Fuck yeah, we can,” Betty agreed. “Hands in for a cheer. ‘Dominik sucks’ on three.”

Betty served first and absolutely drilled one right at Dominik’s head. He all but shrieked and threw up his arms to protect his face. The ball careened off his forearm and went flying toward the water.

Betty smiled. “One–nothing,” she called. “Could you get the ball for me please, love?”

Betty was… well, she was fucking awesome at volleyball, is what she was. She was tiny, so she couldn’t help with blocking, but she picked up every goddamn ball that came within twenty feet of her. She was blindingly fast and knew where the ball was going to end up before it got there.

“You’reamazing,” Archer said, slack-jawed, after she chased down another shank out the back of the court, safely returning the ball to the other side with a windmill swing.

“Thanks,” she said, panting and brushing sand off her shoulder from her dive. “I played on the state beach volleyball team in high school.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “But then I blew out my ankle, and, once I recovered, I decided to stick with dance.”

“God. We might just win this thing.”

Mateo was pretty good too, which did not surprise Archer much… although, to be honest, he was more focused on Mateo’s rippling muscles under his warm ocher skin.

When those rippling muscles smashed another ball through his block, Archer smiled and offered Mateo five under the net. “Nice spike,” he said.

Mateo smiled and slapped his hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey!” Betty scowled. “No fraternizing. And tighten up that block, Read. Your thumbs should be together.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with a sidelong grin at Mateo and a mock salute for Betty.

They won the first game 25–23 after an argument about whether the ball was in or out. “The beautiful thing about beach,” Betty said, stomping over to the line, “is the ball imprint doesn’t lie. It was clearly out.” She pointed to the mark that was a hair outside the line.

“Fine, if you’re going to be technical about it,” Dominik grumbled.

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