Page 80 of Wingwoman
“Yeah, but yours tastes better.”
“Youmade both drinks! If mine tastes better, then you have no one but yourself to blame!”
With a practice shrug that was clearly meant to look casual, which I knew was anything but, he swam toward me. Gleaming eyes were locked on me as he glided through the water like a shark circling its prey.
Leaning against the edge of the pool, I eyed him warily as he made his way next to me, propping his elbows against the textured concrete.
“I intentionally made yours better. With love.”
“That feels more likeyourproblem thanmyproblem.”
My straw was still in his mouth, bouncing between his full lips as he chewed the edge.
“Wait a minute,” I said, glancing back at the bar where his cowboy hat rested beside the silver martini shaker. “You madebothdrinks at the same time. In the same shaker. Is yours a virgin too?”
That Cheshire grin widened, the sight so stunningly beautiful it rendered me in awe for the slightest second.
But one slight second was a second too long. He lunged at me, dipping his straw back into my drink and in a movement more fluid than all the water in the pool, he scooped the coconut out of my hands.
“Hey!”
Pushing off of the side of the pool with his feet, he swam swiftly away from me on his back, his arm with the drink elevated above the water.
The implication was loud and clear even without words:You want it? Come and get it.
I could chase after him. Splash him coyly and giggle like any other girl in my situation might do and probablyhasdone a million times right here in this very pool.
Instead, my gaze went to his untouched piña colada still sitting on the side table.
It was the obvious answer. He took my drink… I take his.
Game over.
The textured concrete bit into my palms as I leveraged my body weight and pulled myself out of the deep end of the pool. Water sluiced from my body. Dripping would be a gross understatement. A veritable waterfall drained from my soaking wet hair and swimsuit.
Josh’s hungry gaze followed my movements as I walked slowly toward where he’d rested his cup and lifted it in my hands.
While a normal glass would have been covered in condensation beads of sweat, the coconut was dry and rough in my palms.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, Josh’s eyes narrowed, disappointment at the fact that I refused to play his game curved his mouth into a frown.
But it wasn’t that I refused to play. I just refused to play byhisrules.
Turning, I lunged for his precious cowboy hat and turned it over, balancing the piña colada over the inside. “Put my drink on the edge of the pool or your hat gets it!”
He had barely registered what was happening as he splashed, righting himself in the water. “Whoa! Easy there!”
“You think I won’t do it? Try me.” I bit my bottom lip, unable to stop the smile from pinching my cheeks.
“That hat was custom made for me,” Josh said. And even though I knew he was telling the truth and there was a bit of raw, honest panic in his voice… he still smiled.
I lifted my brow, ignoring the trickle of water that dripped down my temple. “Then I suggest you hand over the hostage.”
With narrowed eyes, he slowly began to swim toward the pool’s edge.
“Your crime doesn’t fit the punishment, Ms. Marcoux-Evans.”
“I don’t care, Mr. Gabriel. When someone crosses me, I strike back twice as hard.”
