Page 23 of The Invitation
Bubbles float from his mouth from what I imagine is a chuckle, just before he spreads his arms—his shirt clinging to every ridge of his body—and heads for the surface.
I swim to the top and gasp a lungful of air, brushing my wet hair off my face. Ripley is treading water an arm’s length away. He’s cool, calm, and collected—no worse for the wear. His shirt is sucked to his body by the water, like a model waiting for a photo shoot, and that only makes me madder.
But I can’t say anything because I shoved him first.
“Hey, Peaches,” he says, humor dancing across his features.
“Fuck you.”
“Fine. I won’t tell you that your tits are hanging out. It’s not like I mind.”
I look down to see my nipples peaked and pointed directly at him.
I scurry to pull up my top with a full-on blush. He swims gracefully, lazily to the side. Two hands grip the pool's edgebefore he lifts himself—his arm muscles flexing beneath the sparkly water droplets on his skin—and climbs out.
He walks away without looking back.I hate Ripley Brewer.
Chapter Six
Ripley
“I couldn’t tellGeorgia my phone was in my pocket. She would’ve taken that as a victory,” I say to Waffles, setting his dinner in the built-in feeding station I had added to the kitchen island. “All I can say is that it’s good that my phone case is waterproof, and it worked.”
Waffles drops a tennis ball at my feet, his little tail wagging back and forth as he peers up at me.
“Eat, and then maybe we can go outside and play,” I say, scooping up the ball and placing it on the counter.
He barks in protest but loses his focus once he sniffs his food.
I peel an orange while gazing across the island, over the casual eating nook, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the room.
When I had this house built five years ago, I knew I wanted to be able to stand in the kitchen and look across the treetops to the valley behind it. The lot's dense vegetation and varied wildlife were a huge selling point. Nature has always given me a sense ofpeace, and I wanted to incorporate that into my daily life—even if only through a pane of glass.
I pop a wedge of fruit into my mouth and savor the sweetness. It’s the first thing I’ve had since breakfast, thanks to Georgia’s little stunt making me miss lunch.
A chuckle rumbles from my chest as I think about it … and her.
I'd find her entertaining if I didn’t dislike her as much as I do. She can go from a centerfold stretched out on a lounge chair, to a mouthy pain in the ass, to a sexy siren with the best set of tits I’ve ever seen. It’s as impressive as it is discombobulating. I go from being speechless, wanting to murder her, to wanting to fuck her within an inch of her life—all in the same two-minute span. Yet we always end each interaction at the same point.Disdain.
At least I won today’s battle. I think.
Another tennis ball strikes my foot, and I find Waffles standing before me with his tongue sticking out.
“Where did you get this one?” I ask, laughing.
He barks.
“Did you finish your dinner?” I ask.
He barks again, this time adding a tongue wag to the mix.
“All right,” I say, picking up the ball. “Let’s go outside for a few minutes.”
He races to the door and sits, waiting for me to catch up. I put the rest of my orange back in the kitchen and shove my phone into my gym shorts pocket.
As I step into the backyard, the evening sun warms my bare chest. The air is filled with a honeyed fragrance from a mystery plant in my landscape design and the bubbling of the pool across the deck. Waffles leaps into the air and barks, redirecting my attention to him.
“Ready?” I ask before throwing the ball across the yard. “Get it.”
