Page 79 of Playing Dirty
Meanwhile, I had Lilly.
She stood beside me, sipping something pink and frothy, eyes shining as if she belonged here. Every time she leaned in closer to point out something—the horizon, the dolphins, the damn buffet—I felt my patience grow thinner. She wasn’t doing anything wrong exactly. But that was the problem. She was too close, too cheerful, too…Lilly.
I offered polite answers, a grunt here, a nod there, but I was already regretting how close our cabins were—only a thin wall between me and all that sunshine.
Back in Lovelace, I kept things simple. She needed firewood stacked, porch steps patched, and a ceiling fan hung before the summer heat set in. I was good with my hands, and she was good at saying thanks with a smile that stopped just short of dangerous. Practical. Safe. Nothing to gossip about.
But out here? On a ship with nowhere to go and no chores to hide behind? That line I’d kept between us felt about as solid as toilet paper.
By the second day, I’d already decided cruises weren’t built for men like me. Too many blaring speakers, too much sunburnt skin, too many activities shoved down your throat like medicine. I was minding my business, nursing a beer, when Lilly plopped beside me and pushed a glass under my nose.
“Here,” she said, grinning like she’d just solved world peace. “Mai tai. Paradise in a cup.”
The thing was pink, and an umbrella stuck out like it had come straight off a postcard. I gave it a sniff.
“Paradise smells like turpentine.”
She laughed so hard she nearly spilled hers, her head tipping back, with blond hair catching the deck lights. Something twisted low in my gut, an urge I pushed down before it could take hold.
“Don’t make that face,” she said between giggles. “Just drink it.”
So I did. Big mistake. “Yep. Turpentine. With fruit.”
That set her off again, her laughter bright and unguarded, rolling over the hum of the pool deck. Against my better judgment, I felt my own mouth twitch.
Later, I tried disappearing into the crowd, but Lilly wasn’t having it. She caught me by the wrist and dragged me toward a commotion near the pool.
“Limbo contest!” she said, eyes sparkling.
“Oh, hell no. My back’s not built for that.”
“Your back’s just fine.” And before I knew it, I was shoved into line with a dozen strangers.
Grumbling the whole way, I ducked under the bar, certain I’d make an ass of myself. Except—I didn’t. Muscle memory or dumb luck, I slid under the pole without so much as a wobble. The crowd erupted. Lilly whooped loud enough to scare the emcee, then leaned in close, her lips nearly brushing my ear.
“Told you,” she whispered.
Her breath was warm against my skin, coconut lotion lingering in the air. My pulse kicked hard, traitorous as hell. I straightened quickly, muttering something about “never again,” but the truth was, I couldn’t shake the buzz running through me.
I kept up the grumbling, but she just grinned wider, like she knew exactly what button she’d pressed. And damn it, I couldn’t ignore it—around her, I felt more alive than I had in a long time.
By the last night, I thought I’d pulled it off. Survived the circus. One more round of umbrella drinks, another limbo contest, a few too many tone-deaf renditions ofSweet Caroline,and I’d walk away with my dignity mostly intact.
So, I did the only smart thing—I ducked out early. Slipped past the dance floor, past Rhett hamming it up like he’d won the lottery twice, past Colt shaking his head like he was already calculating how to get even with him later. I made it to my cabin, shut the door, and let the blessed silence swallow me whole.
I stretched out on the edge of the bed, lamp low, the hum of the engines steady under my feet. For the first time all week, I let myself breathe. No Lilly daring me into games. No fruity drinks. No more heat in my blood every time she brushedclose, smelling like coconut and trouble. Just me, four walls, and the lie I told myself that I’d made it through without doing something stupid.
That’s when the knock came.
Three light raps, almost playful.
I frowned, half expecting Rhett, drunk off his ass, looking for backup, or Colt with another scheme. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t either of them.
It was Lilly.
Hair damp from a shower, dark strands sticking to her neck. Robe belted loose, the kind of loose that made a man forget his own name. Her eyes caught mine, that same spark I’d been dodging all week—except now it wasn’t a spark. It was a dare.
“Evening, grumpy,” she said, voice low, smile wicked. “You didn’t think you were getting out of this cruise without one last dare, did you?”
