The tweens continue to pass under the bar easily. I’ll be shocked if one of them doesn’t win, which means my boys will have to take the next round—whatever it is—to get the W.
Tink’s blond friend approaches the bar, and their third teammate, the insanely competitive one, is shouting directions from the sideline like it’s the title game. The blond curves her spine, but she comes up too soon and her chin scrapes the bar.
Camila calls her out, and she exits the makeshift dance floor.
During the next round, Jones falls on his back, and two of the older players tap out, unwilling to risk a slipped disk. I can’t say I blame them. Who wants to spend their vacation laid up?
We lower the bar again, and I chance a look at Tink. She’s practicing in the line, maybe trying to work out her balance, and it’s cute as hell.
Bergeron shimmies under the bar, inching forward painfully slow. When he finally comes up, a triumphant grin onhis face, he kicks sand back under the bar, filling the grooves he made.
One of the younger girls loses her balance and grabs the bar, but her teammate and Tink pass under with no trouble.
We lower the bar two more times. The last tweener goes down, leaving only Bergeron and Tink. I’d never admit it to my teammates, but I’m pulling for her. She makes it look so damn easy.
Granted, she’s small, but it takes a hell of a lot of strength and balance to get that low and not end up on your ass.
Bergeron inches forward, fighting gravity. His upper lip is coated in sweat, and if he bites it any harder, he’s going to draw blood. I hold my breath as his chest passes under the bar. He’s almost in the clear when his right leg buckles. He drops onto his back with a muttered “fuck” and thumps his fist in the sand.
So much for a clean sweep. Still, I can’t deny the thrill of excitement knowing Tink will take the round.
“You gave it your best shot.” I extend my free hand and help Bergie up. “And you did a damn good job.”
“Not good enough, apparently.” He turns to Tink with what can only be described as grudging—and drunken—respect. “Let’s see what you’ve got, ma chérie.”
She flashes him a dazzling smile, and we watch as she arches her back, bends her knees, and shimmies right under the damn pole with inches to spare.
“We have a winner,” Camila shouts, as Tink straightens.
She bounces on her toes and claps her hands together, her dark eyes sparkling.
It’s fucking adorable, and for an instant, I want nothing more than to crush my lips to hers. To taste the salt on her skin, and to cup that gorgeous ass in the palm of my hand. I don’t know what it is about Tink—her smile, her grace, her killer body—but Ican’t remember the last time I was this attracted to a complete stranger.
Tink celebrates with her friends, and they exchange high fives as they pile praise upon her. That’s when it hits me. It’s anyone’s game now.
I scrub a hand over my face. As much as I enjoyed watching Tink destroy the limbo, I can’t sell my boys out for a pretty girl…can I?
5
AVA
“We’re still in this thing,”Lexie says, clapping her hands together. “If we win the final event, we win the whole enchilada.”
Mmmm. I could really go for an enchilada right now.
Kayla must agree, because she groans. “If I buy you an enchilada, can we forget about the third event and go back to the bar?” She swipes a strand of damp hair off of her forehead. “Ya girl is thirsty.”
I giggle because everything is funny now. Which is probably the tequila doing its thing. Or maybe I’m still riding high from myah-maz-inglimbo win. I totally kicked butt.
Guess gymnastics training paid off, after all.
“Ava?” Lexie cocks her head, brow furrowed. “Are you with us?”
I nod aggressively. “Abso-freaking-lutely.”
“Good, because Camila said we all have to participate in the dizzy race.”
Shoot. I was hoping to sit out again.
