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Her smile widens. “Open it.”
I sigh. “Greer, seriously. This isn’t the right time to play games with us. We’re dealing with some shi—”
“Just fucking open it, Brady!” she snaps, almost bouncing excitedly but keeping her nervous energy under control. “I promise it won’t bite you,” she adds, her tone now softer.
My fingers open the envelope while my eyes are still fixed onto hers. “What the fu—” I look down into the open envelope when I feel what can only be dollar bills. A shit ton of one-hundred-dollar bills, I establish when I look into the envelope. “Greer, what’s this? Did you rob a fucking bank?” I ask, fighting to stop my hands from shaking because I shit you not, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much money all in the same place before. “There must be ten grand in here!”
She nods as if she hadn’t just literally dropped a ridiculous amount of money in my lap. “It’s exactly ten grand,” she confirms.
I look at my friends, and they all look as shocked as I feel right now. “I don’t understand, Greer. Why are you—”
“You said you need ten grand for the surfing competition, right? That it would fix some of your problems. Here’s the ten grand. Go win that race.”
We all talk at the same time.
“No fucking way!” Me.
“Why are you helping us?” Matt.
“Is this kid for real?” Drew.
“I’m not a kid!” she snaps, folding her arms over her chest and making her cleavage stand out even more.
What does that say about me that I’m literally holding the potential solution to all of our problems and I can’t keep my eyes off her tits? Really, Iama fucking dumbass.
Drew is the voice of reason, like he always is between the three of us. I swear to God, I love the dude like a brother, but sometimes I’d love it if he wasn’t always so fucking in control. “Did your father change his mind about sponsoring Tristan and his team?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
Greer shakes her head. “No, he didn’t. He’s still sponsoring them. But I think you guys deserve it more. So I’m helping you.”
Matt tilts his head to the side, as if trying to make sense of what she just said. “So your father agreed to sponsor two rival teams?”
Her smile begins to fade away, and I’m almost mad at Matt for causing it. “No. Look, my daddy isn’t involved in this, okay? Just take that money and go win that race. Make sure to teach Tristan and his douchey friends a lesson.”
Drew looks less and less convinced with every passing second. “So you’re telling me that ten grand is your allowance or something?”
She bristles at his question. “Fuck you, Drew! I’m not a kid. I don’t get allowances!”
I intervene, because while I want to take this fucking money more than anything in the world, I also understand where Drew is coming from. “Okay, Greer. No one is calling you a kid.” She narrows her eyes, ready to argue that Drew just did, but I try to get past that particular point. “Okay, so yeah, Drew called you a kid, but he didn’t mean it that way, okay? It’s just the way he acts. Sometimes he treats Matt and me like we’re dumb kids, but we’re just used to it and we ignore him. But you have to understand that this is a lot of money for us. Is this your own money or did you ask your father for it?”
She lowers her gaze, and that tells me all I need to know.
I stand up and shove the envelope back into her hands. “In that case, thank you, but no thank you. We can’t take your father’s money. Not when he doesn’t know what it is for. He’s obviously backing Tristan and—”
“But I’m backing you!” she interrupts, raising her voice. Her fists are clenched at her sides, and she’s practically vibrating with the passion she seems to put into everything she does.
That’s even hotter than the fact that she’s beautiful. That she believes in us. Inme.
Matt is the first one to crack under the pressure of those beautiful blue eyes and that heaving, soft chest. “That means a lot, Greer. Believe me,” he says. “But we couldn’t take your father’s money. If he’s sponsoring Tristan, I’m sure he’d feel blindsided if—”
She doesn’t let him finish. “Daddy gave that money tome. His only stipulation was that what I needed it for wasn’t illegal. And it isn’t. So technically, that’s my money and I’m giving it to you.”
When she puts it that way…
Drew runs his hand through his dark hair. “That’s very sweet of you, Greer. Thank you. But we still can’t take your money. It wouldn’t be right.”
She doesn’t look deterred. “Why not? You were going to take it from that bitch, Carla or Carly or whatever.”
I explain the situation. “Carly’s dad was sponsoring us. He was going to put his logo on everything we used for the race. We’d be more than happy to do that with the resort, but we aren’t the team your father has decided to sponsor, so Drew is right that we can’t take it.”
