Page 90 of Shootout Daddies
“Well…” I take another sip of beer, remembering just this afternoon when Hunter pulled me into the shower before we left. The hot water, his mouth at my neck, my back against the tile. My body is still loose from it. “They’re… handling it okay. In fact, I can’t prove this, but I’m convinced those two have made some kind of sport out of making me come. I’ve never had so many orgasms in my life, babe.”
“Hot,” Brooke declares. “This is so hot and fun.”
“Not for me. I’m constantly sore.”
She tilts her head, studying me, then lets out a shrill laugh. “Just a few months ago, you were complaining of a dry spell, and now it’s the complete opposite.”
Before I can explain, the air shifts. And as if summoned by the thought, Landon walks over.
“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth, even as his gaze skims over me like he’s already undressing me with his eyes. “Hi, Brooke. I’m Landon.”
Brooke straightens, a flicker of recognition lighting her eyes. “We’ve met before at the apartment building.”
He nods once. “Yes. Good to see you again.” They shake hands quickly, polite, nothing more. Then his attention swings back to me.
“How’s your evening going?” he asks.
Just being near him has my brain sparking like faulty wiring. Words tangle in my throat, but I force them out anyway.
“Good. Great. Actually, not great. I mean, it could be great, we’re not sure yet. Rhett and Hunter got the results back. They were hoping you’d come over tonight to discuss them.”
His brows lift, the faintest sign of surprise. “Of course. What time?”
“After the team thing. Eleven?”
He nods. “I’ll be there.” Then, with that same composed efficiency, he glances across the beach. “Excuse me. I see someone I need to talk to.”
And he walks away.
Brooke waits until he’s far enough that he can’t possibly hear before leaning in, whispering, “Girl, you were blabbering.”
I drag a hand down my face. “I know.”
“I have never seen you this down bad.” She laughs.
Before she can say anything else, my phone pings in my pocket. I pull it out, glance at the screen—and my stomach sinks.
My mother.
Brooke notices immediately. “Why is your mom texting you?”
I swallow hard, forcing my voice to sound casual. “Just the monthly check-in.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t push. She knows better.
I slip the phone away, plaster a smile on my face. “The guys are waiting in the car. I better go. But we’ll see each other soon.”
She nods, then pulls me into a hug. “Daisy’s running late, so I’ll hang out with her. Then I’ll get Skye, Sage, and Jackson home.”
“Don’t you dare replace me as your best friend.” I hug her back.
“Never. Love you, babe.”
“Love you too, B.”
And then I’m walking across the sand, the fire at my back, the night air cool on my skin, my pulse still racing from Landon’s nearness and my mom’s text.
The beers are half-empty, the remains of dinner spread across the table—takeout cartons collapsing inward, skewers Rhett had grilled earlier piled to one side, a bowl of rice barely touched.
