Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Don’t look so worried,” Tate tells me. “It’ll be okay. I’ll help you up after your face hits the sand.”
“That’s so romantic,” I say. I look at Zale. “Isn’t he so romantic?”
“You guys dating?” Zale asks, his gaze shifting between us.
I answer, “Sort of,” at the same time Tate responds, “Just a little.”
We look at each other and grin.
Then I drag my fingers across my throat and warn, “You’re going down.”
“Oh, I am going down. On you later tonight.”
Zale lets out a howl.
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I demand. “Because it sounds fun.”
Tate winks. “More like a promise.”
Then the whistle blows and we get our asses handed to us. The round lasts about four seconds, and I do indeed get sand in my face after I collapse. I’m pretty sure Luke was capable of taking us down all on his own.
Like the gentleman he is, Tate keeps his promise and helps me to my feet. “You okay?”
“I’m good. Nice win.”
Although we lost, our efforts in the tug-of-war event awarded Team Beacon with four points. Mackenzie does some quick math and looks concerned when she realizes the Hartleys are closing in on the lead we accrued thanks to our windsurfing upset.
“It’s fine,” Gen reassures her. “We’re still ahead by a lot.”
Except suddenly we’re not. Team Hartley embarks on a winning streak that makes Mac and Gen see red. They crush it in beach volleyball. Then Evan and Alex dominate their swimming heats, each coming in first. By the time one thirty rolls around, Team Hartley has added nine points to their total score.
Everyone’s tired and ready to go, but we’re stuck there for Deb Dooley’s final speech.
“All right, everybody! How much fun did we have today? I think this was peak fun for me! And I’m looking forward to seeing all of you again tomorrow, bright and early! We’ll be starting the obstacle course at eight forty-five sharp—the rest of tomorrow’s events are listed on the schedule we emailed to you this week. We’ll be wrapping up around one thirty P.M., with the winners’ ceremony starting at two. Today’s standings are being posted outside the tourism center as we speak, so make sure to take a peek before you head home for the day!”
The moment she finishes speaking, it’s as if everyone on the beach has transformed from adult to child. A mob of us hurries across the street toward the tourism center, a little blue building that stands at the entrance to the boardwalk. Near the door, an easel holds a huge chalkboard with the scoreboard written on it. Genevieve practically hurls herself at it. She studies it, then threads her way through the other teams back toward us.
“We’re in third place overall,” she says flatly.
“That’s great!” I counter. “Why do you look so pissed?”
“Hartley and Sons are in second place.”
“Damn it,” growls Mackenzie.
First place is currently held by the firefighters, with the yacht club in fourth. When I see Tate wandering my way, I stick out my tongue at him like an immature ass. “We’re beating you.”
He slaps his chest as if struck by a bullet. “Oh no. My ego can’t handle it. I might need a blowjob to make me feel better.”
I snicker, and he slings an arm around me and leans down to plant a kiss on my lips. My heart skips a beat, because I still can’t get used to the reality that Tate Bartlett just goes around kissing me.
“That was fun,” he says.
“It really was. Did you compete last year?”
He nods. “We came in second overall. Third the year before.”
“Look at you, collecting trophies left and right.”
“Baby, don’t even talk to me about trophies. My dad’s kept every single trophy I’ve ever won in my life, since I was, like, five years old. They’re collecting dust all over the house.”
“What trophies were you winning at age five?” I challenge.
“You kidding me? I was five when I won my first dinghy race. Damn trophy was taller than I was.” He grins. “Pretty sure Dad has a framed photo of it at the house. Tiny me struggling to hold up a monster trophy.”
“I need to see that picture. Get on that.”
“I’ll see if my dad still has it prominently displayed in his office,” Tate promises with a laugh.
“Hey,” Evan interrupts, elbowing Tate in the arm. “Bonfire at our place later.” He winks at me. “Gotta celebrate our lead.”
I look at Gen, who’s standing next to Evan. “Fraternizing with the enemy, are we?” I say, raising a brow.
“I mean, we live together.”
“Fair. I’ll allow it. Do you want to go?” I ask Tate.
“Like, a date?” He feigns uncertainty. “I don’t know. That’s a big commitment.”
“Fine. I’ll go alone.”
“Nah, I’ll go with you. I’m stopping in to see my folks for dinner, but I can come grab you after.”