“Shit.” Mack looks out at the beach, then back at us, his gaze settling on me. “You know… I wasn’t sure about the whole hockey thing in this town. But since you gorillas started drinking here?” He gestures around the bustling bar. “My revenue’s tripled. The town’s different now, you know. It's alive again. Like the good ol' days.”
“See?” Beck spreads his arms, nearly knocking over his beer. “We’re a public service. A cultural enrichment. They should be giving us a tax break, not a lecture.”
“A public service,” Mack grumbles, grabbing the next glass to polish with a roll of his eyes. “Right. And that beachfront McMansion you’re squatting in? That’s just community outreach.”
“We pay rent,” Mason points out, ever the reasonable one. "Sort of."
Beck nods and clicks his fingers at Mason, “andwe keep Diego employed. Man’s the best housekeeper south of the border.”
I shoot him a blank look. “Diego’s from Florida, you idiot.”
“Even better! We'veimportedtalent to the region.” Beck’s smile is pure chaos. “Point is, we’re an economic stimulus for this town. A very handsome, very talented economic stimulus.”
Mack chuckles. “You Morrison boys. Never a dull moment when you're around.”
He moves off to serve a group of surfers dripping saltwater onto his floor, and I let his words sit as Mason sets up a new game on the dartboard.
Mack’s not wrong.
Beachside has its own pulse, and right now, mine is synced to it.
The easy lifestyle. The lack of pressure. The knowledge that my biggest concern today is whether to order the fish tacos or the burger.
I can't lose what I've got here.
But maybe that’s the problem.
A restless energy hums under my skin, left over from that goddamn meeting. I hate being told what to do. Ever since I was younger, and me and my older sister would keep the house running while my parents walked around pretending to be happy, all while being so fucking miserable they could barely keep our family functioning.
Fuck.
I haven't felt like this in a long time.
I need to burn it off.
I need—
My train of thought derails because the woman who just walked in has pulled the attention of every man in the whole fucking bar.
"Whoa," Beck whispers a little too loudly, eyes popping from his skull as he stares across the room.
She’s standing just inside the doorway, blinking down at her phone like her GPS led her into a dragon’s den instead of a beach bar.
She’s all wrong for this place, and that’s what makes her sofucking rightfor how I'm feeling right now.
She's wearing a short, flirty skirt that shows off miles of smooth, pale leg. Legs that clearly haven’t seen a Beachside sunset, yet are still somehow irresistibly sexy.
My body goes taut, every instinct zeroing in at her yellow top with a neckline that dips just enough to hint at the perfect swell of her breasts. She has honey-brown hair dancing around her shoulders, catching the breeze like she’s standing in her own personal spotlight.
She’s gorgeous. And not in thetrying-too-hardway of the women who usually hover around the team.
Fuck, I need to release tonight. I needher.
I need to pin those smooth legs over my shoulders. I need the sweat, the friction, the desperate, mindless fuck that blots out Colin Holden’s sweating face and the pressure of leading a failing franchise.
She looks like she could take it. She looks like she might even beg for it.
“Dude, you seeing this girl?” Beck breathes beside me, following my gaze. “Hello, welcome distraction.”
