1. Carter

1

CARTER

“You know, for someone who used to be known as the life of the party, you sure are a stick in the mud.”

I turn my head and look at my friend through my aviators. Dane lays back on the cushioned lounge chair next to mine, looking back at me with a disapproving frown. The sun shines down on his blond hair, making it look almost white.

“It’s called self-care, Larson. Look it up.” I close my eyes and lean back on the chair, tilting my chin up to soak in the Caribbean sun. This is the first time I’ve relaxed in months, and even though worries still dance in the back of my head, it’s nice to be in a place where I have no responsibilities.

No work. No childcare to arrange. No vindictive ex to keep at bay. I came to this all-inclusive resort to relax, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

But my good friend has other ideas.

“Hey man, I get it,” Dane Larson, the star hockey player says. “The season is over and you can finally chill, but I’m worried about you. You haven’t done anything this trip but sulk. Not trying to be an ass, but you used to be more fun.”

“I haven’t been sulking.”

“Fine. You’ve been wallowing.”

Keeping my eyes closed, I sigh, “I’m just not in the mood.” I haven’t been in the mood for a lot lately.

“I know. That’s what I’m talking about.” Dane is a good guy. He grew up in Minnesota but was drafted by the Texas Ranchers right out of college. We met at a charity event while I was there representing Dallas’s professional football team, the Texas Rough Riders. We bonded over our lowkey personalities.

Though we’re both star athletes in our own right, we don’t like to flaunt it. And we haven’t succumbed to the extravagant lifestyle a lot of our teammates experience. For Dane, it's because he’s a small-town boy at heart with an aversion to being the center of attention. He plays hockey because he loves the sport, not because he wants fame. The center has somewhat of a temper and aggressive streak. I imagine he picked up the sport to use as an outlet for his inner demons. Honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t an enforcer. I imagine he’s too skilled on the ice to forgo the center position.

As for me, I might’ve been more inclined to dabble in the rich and famous lifestyle after I was drafted to the NFL, but it wasn’t long after I signed my contract that I learned my college girlfriend was pregnant. Turns out, raising twin infants during your rookie season isn’t conducive to living a carefree, selfish lifestyle.

Realizing Dane isn’t going to let me lounge by the pool in silence like I’d planned, I open my eyes and sit up in the lounger. “Okay. Fine. You win. What cheesy event do you want me to force on you?” I scan the pool and see a resort employee running a karaoke machine for the crowd around the swim-up bar. Of the two of us, I’m far more outgoing. Dane is a borderline recluse. Hence, I have to force these kinds of things on him.

I’m about to suggest we get in the chlorinated water and make our way toward the intoxicated group of tone-deaf adults to join in the fun when Dane says, “How about beach volleyball?”

I follow his gaze to the sandy beach, separated from our spot by the pool by a wide walkway flanked by palm trees. A lone volleyball net stands in the sand, and two women are hitting the ball back and forth. They both look fit, but it only takes a few seconds to identify the brunette is more athletic than her friend. The lean woman with the long, black ponytail almost faceplants when she stumbles on the sand, reaching for the ball.

“You want to play with them?” I can’t hide my surprise. Dane isn’t the type to approach women. He waits for them to come to him.

“I want you to have some fun,” he counters. “Of all the guys’ trips you’ve dragged me on over the years, I can’t remember a single time you didn’t flirt with at least one beautiful woman.”

I snort. “Are you concerned about my love life?”

“Yes.”

Six months ago, I’d tell him not to be. But since the custody drama with my ex began, I haven’t so much as bought a woman a drink at a bar, let alone flirt or sleep with one.

I press my lips together and continue to watch the women.

They’re both undeniably attractive, but there’s something about the one with the ponytail that catches my attention. I think it’s her smile. She looks so happy and carefree, completely unbothered by the fact that she’s terrible at volleyball. Her easygoing demeanor is endearing, and it’s the kind of demeanor I could use myself right now.

“Fine.” I swing my legs to the side and stand from the lounger, ignoring the appreciative glances from the group of women sitting on the chairs next to us. I tug the end of my swim trunks down in a pointless attempt to cover more of my muscular thighs. “Let’s go play.”

Dane and I gather our beach towels and room keys and make our way out of the pool area, slipping off our sandals before stepping onto the white sand. It’s only ten in the morning so the sand doesn’t burn our feet. After a few more hours in the sun, I’ll need to wear sliders to walk across the uneven surface.

We approach the volleyball net with Dane in front. He pulls back when the women notice our presence, letting me take the lead.

I snicker.

Chicken shit.

The brunette catches the ball coming her way and props it on her hip, looking in our direction with a questioning tilt of her head.

And just like that, years of being outgoing and friendly have me lifting a hand in greeting.

“Hey, ladies. Mind if we join you for a game?” I stop my approach at the end of the net, sure to keep my distance to not creep them out. Dane stops next to me.

The friends exchange a loaded glance.

Then, the brunette clears her throat and says, “Um, sure… That’s fine.”

I smile. “Great! I’m CJ.” I step forward and hold out my hand, ignoring Dane’s snort at my choice not to give the woman my full first name.

I have no idea if these women pay attention to professional football, but I’m not willing to risk them recognizing my name and then having word spread through the resort that I’m here. Like I said, I’m here to relax. I don’t want to be bombarded by fans or have my every move posted on other vacationers’ social media accounts.

The brunette shakes my hand. “I’m Megan. This is Valerie.” She motions to her friend. For the first time since we approached, I let my gaze wander to the woman who caught my attention, and I am immediately ensnared by a pair of stunning green eyes.

Sweat glistens on her forehead, and her face is free of makeup. Her tan skin is flawless, and her figure is tall and slim but curved in all the right places. My pulse quickens. I can’t remember the last time I was this attracted to someone. I tell myself that’s because I haven’t gotten laid in so long, but I don’t think that’s it.

This stranger is one of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen—if not the most beautiful. When she reaches out to shake my hand, sparks shoot up and down my arm.

“I’m CJ,” I tell her, too distracted by her beauty to be embarrassed by how husky my voice sounds.

“Valerie.” The raspy note in her voice makes me think of limbs tangled in bedsheets, sexy moans, and sweaty skin.

Remembering that my mother raised a gentleman, I force those illicit thoughts aside and release her hand. I open and close my fists, trying to clear away the lingering sparks from her touch.

Dane introduces himself, and I’m notably pleased when Valerie shows him the same interest as she did me. Which is none.

“Should we split teams?” Megan asks, looking pointedly between Dane and me. “You’ll have an unfair height advantage if you’re on the same team.”

“That’s fine,” Dane relents.

“Cool. You’re on my team,” Megan declares. “Valerie, you’re with CJ.” I almost miss the wink she shoots her friend, but it’s impossible to miss the resulting blush on the beauty’s cheeks.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe Valerie is interested in me.

Determined to play it cool, I school my features to hide my pleasure and roll back my shoulders. “Sounds good. You guys can serve first.”

“Great. First team to eleven wins.” Megan ducks under the net to take position on the other side of the court. Dane follows.

I back up to the blue nylon line staked into the sand, marking the baseline. From this position, I should be able to track and intercept serves to the back of the court. Valerie shifts so she’s in the middle of the court. Then, she turns and looks at me with a sheepish expression.

“I’ve got to warn you, I’m not very good.”

I know… I saw.

“That’s alright.” I shoot her a confident grin. “I’m pretty athletic.”

Her lips twitch and her eyes dart quickly over my body. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

“You wound me.”

“Something tells me you’ll get over it.” She turns back around and leans forward, preparing for the incoming serve. It takes all my self-control not to stare at her ass and focus on her friend on the other side of the net.

Megan tosses the ball in the air and smacks it hard. The ball flies an inch over the net and descends, heading right for Valerie.

My teammate bumps the ball in the air, and I am quick to sprint over to hit it back over the net.

Morgan intercepts it with a bump, and Dane spikes it.

Bastard.

I dive forward. Sand flies up all around as my body hits the ground, but my fist misses the ball by inches.

“Point!” Megan cheers. She and Dane high-five.

I stand and brush the sand from my chest where it sticks to the sunscreen I applied earlier.

I glance at Valerie and say, “Don’t worry, we’ll get the next one.” My competitive nature rears its head.

She scoffs. “We’ll see.”

It isn’t until five points later that I understand her doubt. Valerie isn’t the worst volleyball player I’ve ever seen, but she’s pretty bad. She can read the ball well, but her hand-eye coordination is sub-par which means she doesn’t always bump the ball properly. Sometimes it hits her fists. Sometimes her forearms and sometimes her biceps.

At least half the time, the volleyball veers in unpredictable directions and I have no hope of intercepting it even with my agility and length. My competitive nature fades away and is replaced with the charming jokester I’m known to be.

Valerie moves to the baseline to serve after I managed to tip the ball over the net and score our first point.

I turn to look at her with my hands on my hips, panting from the effort of chasing down her hits. “You know, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been hustled by your friend.”

She dips her chin. “Your feelings are valid.”

“I knew it.”

She cracks a smile. “Sorry I’m awful, but I did try to warn you. If we play a second game, we can switch partners.”

“No, thanks. I don’t want to switch.”

“Why not?” She tosses the ball in the air and catches it in her hands easily.

See what I mean?

Not the worst player I’ve ever seen.

My lips curl into the smile that earned me “Best Smile” as my senior superlative in my high school yearbook and say, “Because I need this time to charm you so you’ll agree to have dinner with me.”

Valerie drops the ball in the sand. She bends down and fumbles slightly as she tries to pick it up. When she rises, her cheeks are flushed. “Excuse me?”

I tap into confidence I haven’t utilized for the better part of a year and say, “Have dinner with me.”

Her eyes are wide. She looks like she’s not used to men hitting on her, but I find that hard to believe. “I don’t even know you,” she sputters.

I’m undeterred. “Then get to know me at dinner.”

She shakes her head and huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Does this sort of thing actually work for you?”

“What sort of thing?”

“This.” She motions over my body. “Approaching women without your shirt on and asking them out on a date without knowing anything about them.”

“That’s what talking over dinner is for,” I say pragmatically. “But if you’d rather we get to know a bit about each other first, that’s fine. I’ll kick things off. What’s your favorite color?”

“Are you going to serve sometime today?” Dane hollers from the other side of the net.

Valerie jolts back and adjusts her hold on the ball. Muttering something about muscular playboys under her breath, she settles into a serving stance, tosses the ball in the air, and hits it over the net. The ball almost skims the top of the net before it travels downward. Dane lunges forward. One knee hits the sand as he extends his arms and bumps the ball a little too hard. The ball soars over to the other edge of their side, and Megan can’t get to it in time. I hoot in victory as the ball hits the sand. Another point for us.

My friend grumbles about bruising his knee, earning some good-natured ribbing from Megan about being a grouch before he picks up the ball and tosses it back over to Valerie. The dark-haired beauty sets up to serve again.

Before she can, I stand in front of her, blocking her view.

She cocks her head to the side in confusion.

I cross my arms with a grin. “I’m still waiting to hear your favorite color?”

She rolls her eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

She pinches her lips together, fighting back a smile. “Red.”

“What a coincidence, that’s my favorite color, too.”

“Really?” Her tone says she doesn’t believe me. I don’t let it bother me.

“Really. So… dinner?”

Her stunning green eyes dart between mine, searching. “Look… I don’t know what it is you want out of this conversation, but you’re sure to be disappointed.”

My forehead furrows.

What does that mean?

“All I want is dinner,” I reply honestly.

She lifts a brow. “That’s it? You aren’t secretly hoping I’ll find my way back to your hotel room for the night?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t sound appealing.” I shoot her a smile that’s charmed more women than I can count when I was growing up. Once I got to college, it was the smile that snagged me Laura and resulted in two adorable, if not rambunctious, kids.

Thinking of the twins sobers me, and I feel compelled to confess, “I’m going to level with you, Valerie. My life has been shit lately. I’m on this trip in a poor attempt to relax so that when I get back to the real world I’m better equipped to handle my problems. And I’m not going to lie, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen in a long time, and you’re the first I’ve wanted to take on a date in a year. So, with no expectations beyond a good meal and entertaining conversation, will you go out with me?”

Valerie’s eyes shined with distrust at the beginning of my little speech, but as I confessed my motives, they visibly softened. Understanding now shines out of those stunning green irises. Her lips part, preparing to reply, when her friend’s shout interrupts.

“Seriously? What’s the holdup, guys?” Megan sounds exasperated. “I’d like to finish this game sometime today, please!”

“I’m trying to convince your friend to go out with me,” I call over my shoulder, an appealing smile still pasted on my face.

“Oh,” Megan replies gleefully. She waves a hand between us. “In that case, continue. And take your time!”

“Megan!” Valerie chokes out.

Her friend laughs in response.

I smile and turn back to Valerie, watching her expression as I wait for her answer.

She purses her lips, then frowns. “You’re not like… married, are you?”

I snort. “God, no.”

“Hm.” Green eyes trail over my face, searching for any hint of deception or manipulation. She finds none. “And you’re really okay with just having dinner? No funny business?”

“I might want some dessert. I hear the chef has a special chocolate and raspberry cake on the menu for tonight.”

She can’t fight back her smile. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes, fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”

I’m not normally one to question my good fortune, but I’d been prepared to use more tools in my persuasive toolbox. I can’t help but ask, “What changed your mind?”

A contemplative look crosses her gorgeous face, and she stares off into the distance with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just say you aren’t the only one who could use a little fun to forget the shit they have going on back home.” There’s a sad note to the words, and I feel compelled to lighten her mood.

“Wait, you aren’t married, are you?”

She laughs and her gaze returns to mine and repeats my response back to me, “God, no.”

I could get used to that laugh.

I clear my throat. “Then it’s settled. Meet you at the center cabana at seven?”

“Seven works.”

“Great. Now, will you serve already? Our opponents are waiting?”

She rolls her eyes again. This time, though, she doesn’t fight off her smile. “Charming.”

“I am, aren’t I?”