“Piece of shit boat!” I scream and blow a wet piece of hair out of my eyes, frantically jabbing the stick harder as I wade farther into the water.
Niall peers over my shoulder again. “Need some help?”
“Stay out of this,” I say with a growl, still determined not to lose. “Did you sabotage my boat to win this bet? Can’t you get a girl to kiss you without resorting to cheating?”
“Look, if you’ll just let me help you—”
“I. Do. Not. Need. Help.”
I know I look like a drowned rat. I’m half drenched, chasing after a stupid boat so I don’t have to kiss a man that I desperately want to kiss. Makes sense, right? However, what the hell am I supposed to do? There’s no wrong answer in this equation. If I lose, I get what’s probably the most amazing kiss of my life, and if I win, I get the chance for an in at Tate & Cane without doing jack shit to earn it.
So, you tell me. What wouldyoudo?
You know what you probably wouldn’t do? Distract yourself while jabbing a stick over a pond on your tiptoes. As I’m mulling this over in my head, the boat finally dislodges the minute I decide to give it one last Herculean jab. You see where I’m going with this, right? There’s only one way this can end, and it’s right in the middle of Turtle Pond.
With one slip of my cute sandal, I dive headfirst into the water. It’s not one of those graceful, oopsie moments either. No, this is a mouthful of dirty-ass pond water, hair in my face, and pond scum now coating my skin, type of swan dive.
The minute I catch my breath, all I hear is Niall’s hysterical laughter in the background. Between holding his stomach and wiping his eyes, he manages to check on my well-being. “Are you all right?”
Embarrassed, I cross my arms over my chest. “If you’re finished being an asshole, you could give me a hand, you know.”
The moment he extends a hand, I do what any female in my situation would do. I plant my feet and use the resistance of the water as leverage, giving his arm a tug. I can’t help the feeling of satisfaction when his eyes widen with shock right before he tumbles headfirst into the water right beside me.
The minute his head pops up, I prepare for him to tell me to go to hell, or even worse, to tell me that the deal is off and I’m right back to sending out worthless internship requests that will undoubtedly either end up in the trashcan or at the bottom of some slush pile of some assistant’s bottom drawer.
Instead, he wipes the water from his face and takes a few steps toward me, his eyes smiling. “Well played.”
I force a smile. “Niall, look at you. You’re all wet behind the ears.”
“And you lost a bet.”
“Well,” I say, beginning to make my way toward the shore. “I suppose we can talk about payment when—”
In two steps, the water parts and Niall gathers me in his arms. All the breath leaves me in one swoosh as his lips find mine, and the cool water evaporates only to be replaced by blazing fire. The kiss starts out soft as he traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, his hands dipping to the base of my spine and pulling me flush against his wet body. A soft moan escapes my lips before I can rein it in, and the minute I embrace him back, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss so fiercely I can barely breathe.
This.This is the kind of kiss I’m scared of. Because I know I can get lost in it, and in the end, this is a contract—a one-night arrangement that benefits us both. Besides, I’ve somehow let the man think I’m a single mother in need of rescuing. It’s too late to change the game now. If everything goes as planned, Niall and I will be co-workers soon. This can never happen again. Even if it’s physically painful how much I want him to keep kissing me.
Pulling away, I nod toward the blanket where Sophie and Preston laugh and demolish their soggy boats, oblivious to what just happened between us. Extending my hand, I offer a weak smile. “Congratulations on your win, Mr. Mackay. Don’t expect it to happen again.”
Making a show of wiping our kiss off his bottom lip with the pads of his left fingers, he shakes with his right and winks. “Oh, I expect that and a lot more, Miss Cavanaugh. Count on it.
