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“Enjoy this round, folks.” Coach Williams raises a full flute. “There’s no alcohol on the retreat.”
“What?” Amber whips around, snapping at him, “I didn’t agree to that.”
“Your ass is in that seat,” Beau grumbles. “That’s your cushy agreement right there.”
“We need clear heads,” Coach lectures, “and no distractions. That means no social media posts from the island either.”
“But I have to maintain my brand,” Amber whines before kicking Colton’s feet. He jumps, yanking his headphones down to hear her bitch, “You didn’t tell me no alcohol and social media. How am I supposed to survive?”
“On air, water, and food,” Beau grumbles again, and I choke down my snort.
Clearly, Beau doesn’t like Amber. In one hour, I understand why, but I suspect there’s more.
“I did tell you,” Colton glowers at her attitude. “You just didn’t listen.”
“Well, I don’t play for Atlanta,” Amber snips, “so I’ll do as I please.”
“When you’re on Atlanta’s dime,” Coach corrects, “you’ll follow the same rules, or you’re out.”
I like his version of the NFL Survivor show. Amber is definitely my first vote off the island. I won’t survive ten days of her vocal fry voice and baked delusion because the world is her phone screen, and we’re all just her followers.
But me?
I got my laptop, my loaded ereader, two empty journals, my favorite Micron pens, a bunch of Target sundresses and fancy La Perla bikinis Vale insisted I “sample” for Delta’s.
And once Beau told me we didn’t have to suffer luggage scans at a private airport, I packed a hardshell case full of sex toys, dildos, lingerie, and my hairdryer.
Don’t mess with a pro.
I know how to win the Tempting Bet with Beau. I’m prepared like a horny Girl Scout. His big dick will be testing me every waking hour, so I brought vibrating survival gear.
Now, do I want to be with Beau Bronson again and always? Is this plane flying five hundred miles an hour toward my watery grave?
Yes.
Will I?
Sure.
I’ll survive sex with Beau again like I’ll survive wearing a little yellow inflatable vest with a plastic whistle in the middle of the fastest ocean current in the world when we go down.
But was I shocked that Beau asked me to go with him on his forced luxury vacation?
No.
I’ve protected his secret for so long, I understand. I may not fuck him again, but I’ll always sorta love him.
A lot.
Because the tension between Beau and Colton has its own latitude and longitude.
The only one oblivious to it is Amber. But if it ever makes it to her Instagram feed, she’ll dedicate the latest viral dance to it with her blonde bestie. Don’t worry.
I watch Beau, who alternates his stare between me and the window. This is hard on him. I can tell.
I’ll never forget the pain in his eyes that senior night in college. His lush bottom lip was busted, his eyes brimming with tears.
“Can I come in?” He trembled with torment in my dorm’s doorway. “I know Reese isn’t here. I came for you.”
