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This is what I really like about Greer. She’s a tiny, adorable thing, but she’s also stubborn as hell, and when she puts her mind to something, she won’t give up.
She tries getting on that board more times than I can count, and every time she falls off, she climbs right back on with a determined look in those gorgeous baby blues.
Finally, she’s up on the board, her shapely legs shaking only slightly. “Bend your knees a little more,” I instruct. “Just like that!”
Her face opens up into a bright smile. “Look, Brady! I’m doing it, I’m standing! I’m surfi—”
The small wave she’s riding swells more than she expected, gaining height and speed, and she’s distracted, looking at me rather than in front of herself. She falls off and disappears into the water.
“Greer, are you alright?” I ask, paddling toward her as she reemerges in the shallows.
“I’m fine,” she reassures me, brushing her wet hair away from her face in a frustrated gesture as she bends down to pick up the surfboard that’s dragging behind her, attached to her ankle. “The only thing that’s hurt is my pride. I thought I really had it.”
What did I say? She’s fucking adorable.
“You did. You fell off because you got distracted. But you did really well.”
She sighs, planting her board into the sand and disconnecting the plug from the leash that connects her surfboard to her ankle. “You don’t have to coddle me, Brady.”
I don’t even think as I reach out to cup her jaw with my hand. “I mean it. Some people take a lot longer to be able to stand on a surfboard. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?” Her lips quirk up in a barely there smile, and I can see that she’s fighting it, unsure if I’m praising her just to be nice.
“Really,” I assure her. “Have you met me? I’m not the type who would sugarcoat anything, especially when it comes to surfing, and especially when you’re on our team. It’ll take some hard work to get you ready for a race, but I’ll be damned, Matt and Drew were right. This might not be a total disaster.”
She pushes me away, giggling. “Gee, thanks! I think I preferred you when you were sugarcoating it.”
Against my better judgment, I chase after her, closing my arms around her and lifting her off the sand. “I thought you didn’t want any special treatment,” I tease. “So I’m treating you like any other teammate.”
Of course that’s total bullshit. I wouldn’t lift Matt or Drew in my arms, and I wouldn’t be fighting the urge to kiss them.
I stop spinning and the laughter dies on my lips when I remember who I have in my arms and whose bed I spent the night in. Greer Manning is my boss’s daughter, and I should put her down and walk away, telling her one of us will see her tonight for more training.
That would be the smart thing to do, I know it with every fucking fiber of my being and with every single brain cell that’s still working now that all my blood has rushed south.
I look at her for one more second, screaming at myself to walk away before it’s too late, reminding myself about the deal I made with the guys that we shouldn’t be fucking around with the boss’s daughter.
I look at her to commit her beauty to memory for a time when Greer Manning will be nothing more than some chick I didn’t bang, someone with a permanent spot in the hall of fame of my spank bank and nothing else.
I even begin loosening my hold on her, ready to put her back on the sand, but she closes the distance between us, and this time I stop fighting it.
Her lips are slightly cold and salty from the ocean, but the second they touch mine, I deepen the kiss.
She doesn’t back down, attacking my mouth with the same desire I put into every lash of my tongue against hers, with every lick and bite as I hold her tight against my chest.
I know we should stop, someone could see us. Granted, guests rarely come to this side of the beach by the staff quarters, but it’s still a risk I shouldn’t be willing to take. Rumors spread like wildfire among the staff, and it would only be a matter of time before the boss heard of how thorough I’m being in giving a surfing lesson to his daughter.
“Greer, baby,” I pant, fighting the urge to place her on the sand and take this all the way. Instead, I put her back on her feet and fight my hardest to calm down. “It’s getting late. I need to have some breakfast and get ready for work.”
She nods. “Let’s go then.”
I shake my head. “I can’t have breakfast at the restaurant, and I can’t come back to your room. People will be starting to get up and—”
“Let’s go to your place then,” she says softly.
I know with everything I’ve got that I should send her back to the best table at the resort’s restaurant, to the fine China and sterling silver cutlery she’s used to.
I know that I’ll regret this the second I nod, taking her small hand into mine. “I hope you like cereal and you don’t mind mismatched bowls.”
