Page 140 of Hearts Storm

Sarah just smiles and pats his butt. “Where’s the fun in that?”

I bite back a laugh and glance over at Alan, who’s clearly making a spectacle of himself. He’s got both hands wrapped around the pole, one foot braced against the base, lifting his other foot off the ground like he’s trying to climb over a fence.

When he finally manages to get a handle on it, his foot slips and his grip gives way, landing him square on his ass with a thud.

Melody cackles, doubling over. “Shit, Alan! That’s the third freaking time!”

“You shut that pretty mouth,” he mutters, rubbing his tailbone as he pushes himself back up. “This is harder than it looks.”

Dave, to his credit, is actually doing pretty well. He’s managed to keep both feet off the ground for a solid five seconds before dropping to the ground. It’s not graceful, but at least he’s not one with the floor.

Taylor, healing nicely from his injures, has one ankle hooked around the bottom of his pole, with his other leg extended, trying to twist his body into what I can only assume is a setup for some kind of backward spin. Face red, his veins are popping in his neck, but he’s holding on.

“Fucks, sake, Tay, take it easy! You’re gonna pop a blood vessel.”

Logan tried keeping him on medical leave for a while longer, but Taylor stubbornly refused.

“Eat shit, Brexy,” he grunts, adjusting his grip.

Shaking my head, I turn my attention to the front of the room.

Reyna looks incredible. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail that swings with every sway of her hips. She’s wearing a tiny pair of blue shorts and a white sports bra, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Every time she bends over, my brain short-circuits.

“Okay,” she announces, clapping her hands together. “For this next move, I want you to take note of the positioning of my hands and feet. It’s all about leverage. Use those six-packs, boys. I know you can do this.”

Stacking both hands, she presses the inside of her thigh and calf against the pole. Then, in one fluid motion, she pushes off with her feet and spins, legs in a half circle around the pole before dropping back down.

Logan is standing to my left. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her ass since we first walked in.

“There is no way in hell you’re landing that move,” I chortle, nudging him with an elbow.

He gives me a side-eye. “Right. Like you can?”

Wheels turning, I watch Reyna’s hips sway as she hurries over to help Dave.

“Okay,” I say, matter of fact. “Since it’s your fault we’re stuck in this predicament⁠—”

“My fault?” Eyes on Reyna, Logan raises an eyebrow, tilting his head as she bends over. Again. “You’re the one who folded.”

“If I stick this, I get to take Reyna for a ride in my helicopter. Alone.”

Logan’s face goes through about six different emotions in the span of two seconds before he looks at me, challenge flashing in his eyes.

“And if you don’t?”

Over the past couple of weeks, we’ve only taken Reyna out together—dinner at The Brew, a hike up to Cedar Ridge, movie night at his place—but we haven’t had any one-on-one time yet.

The three of us have been navigating this new dynamic, and it’s been incredible, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t itching to have her all to myself again for a few hours.

I tighten my grip on the pole and shrug like my entire plan isn’t hinging on whether I can do a move I’ve never attempted before in my life. “Then you get the one-on-one.”

His eye ticks as he weighs the pros and cons. On one hand, there’s no doubt he’s confident I’m going to eat shit. On the other, the stakes are high enough that there’s no way he’s not going to cave.

This is gonna be good.

“Cooome ooon. You know you want to,” I sing-song. Because there is absolutely no way either one of us is going to pull this off.

But the bet isn’t so much about landing the move. It’s more about who’s willing to look like the biggest idiot for a shot at alone time with the woman we’re both crazy about.