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“Lost, over budget, unemployable…” I elbow him lightly. “One of these days, I’m going to go work with some other director, and then you’ll be sorry.”
“Or relieved.”
“Hey!”
Ivy rolls her eyes. “Do you have siblings?” she asks Josh, as we make our way up to the bar area. He shakes his head.
“No, but I always wanted one.”
“They’re overrated,” I joke.
“The worst.” Reeve ruffles my hair, and I duck away, complaining.
“Just ignore them,” Ivy tells Josh cheerfully. “I do. And also, don’t ever get sucked into a Monopoly game with those two, they cheat like crazy.”
“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy,” Reeve protests. “And Lottie’s the worst.”
“You mean, the smartest,” I correct him.
“No, thesneakiest.”
I shoot a glance over at Josh, in case the mention of family game night is going to make him recoil in horror, like some of the guys I’ve dated. But he’s just sipping a cold drink, looking amused at our teasing. “Sounds like I need to have my wits about me,” he murmurs, giving me a sizzling grin. “But I knew that already.”
My cheeks heat. “Want to test that theory?” I ask, nodding to where games like beach croquet and bocce have been set up. Avery insisted I was off the clock tonight, just a guest, but I know that if I don’t have a distraction, I’m going to be double-checking place settings and looking over Nils and Nella’s grey jumpsuit-clad shoulders all night.
“Sure.” Josh grins. “I’m game if you are.”
Ivy overhears, and lights up. “A contest! We should have a wager.”
“And teams,” Reeve agrees.
“Losers have to pay a forfeit!”
They steam over to pick their mallets, and I give Josh a teasing smirk. “Are you sure you know what you’ve signed up for?” I ask. “We’re a competitive bunch.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” he says casually, and gives me a wink. “I can find a little friendly competition in me when I need it.”
He’s not lying.With the sun sinking lower, casting pretty pink streaks across the sky, the party hits a fun, mellow vibe. Some guests relax in the shade, while Avery and her bridal party pose for a dozen impromptu photoshoots with all the musicians and décor. Meanwhile, our friendly game of beach croquet has turned into an all-out battle of the sexes.
“Ha! Missed!” Ivy whoops, waving her mallet in Reeve’s face when his ball ricochets off the hoop instead of sailing through.
“This is what I love about you, baby,” he smirks, watching her gloat. “You’re so gentle. Ladylike. A real delicate flower.”
Ivy gives him a sweet smile and flips him the bird. “You’re up, Hazel. Don’t let me down.”
“No pressure or anything.” I say, strolling to where my ball is positioned right by a sandy divot.
“Nervous?” Josh asks, joining me.
I line up the ball with the next hoop. “Not at all.”
“There’s a lot riding on this shot,” he continues, and I can hear the laughter in his voice.
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Bragging rights… glory… and that wager, too,” he continues. “Loser has to give a speech at dinner, quoting Justin Bieber and Britney Spears.”
“Then you better start googling song lyrics,” I say, swinging my mallet. I hit the ball with a satisfyingTHWACK, sending it sailing smoothly down the beach – coming to a stop in a perfect position right in front of the hoop.
