I snag the mallet from the floor and hold it out to her. “I promise to take it easy on you.”
“I don’t want you to take it easy on me, Marco.” She snatches the mallet out of my hand. “I want to beat you. For real, this time.”
Her eyes are blazing.
“Uh-oh. You’re fired up.”
Eli always told me in private that no one was more stubborn than his sister. Now I see why.
“I am, Marco. I’m confident I can beat you, and I’m willing to bet that whoever wins this game gets to pick the next activity.”
I roll my eyes. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.” Her eyes meet mine, and the intensity is startling. “I know why you let me win.”
“You do?”
She nods, her gaze never wavering from mine. “I was Eli’s sister. You had no other choice but to let me win if you wanted to stay friends with him.”
She thought I did it because of Eli. She had no clue I did it forher.
“Right.” I shift on my feet, rubbing the back of my neck. “Eli was always on my case about you.” Just not for the reasons she thinks. He didn’t want me dating his sister.
I thought I’d hidden my feelings well, until the night of our kiss. It only took her falling into my arms for my self-control to snap. One moment she was laughing, wet from sea spray, my baseball cap on her head. And the next, she was in my arms and I was kissing her.
In that moment, I couldn’t remember a single reason why I was supposed to stay away from her. She’d looked up at me with windblown hair escaping from the cap and the ocean at our feet, and every promise I’d made to Eli disappeared.
“But Eli isn’t a problem now. Which means…” She throws off the Crushers sweatshirt she’s wearing, revealing a tank top underneath. “You don’t have to take it easy on me anymore.”
My gaze drags over her for a second, completely distracted by all that skin. Next thing I know, she launches the puck at me with a speed that’s simply impressive. Those few precious seconds of confusion are enough for the puck to slip by me into the goal.
“Wait.” Her eyes widen as she waves her mallet toward the slot. “Did you miss that on purpose?”
I toss my mallet on the table. “For once, Scarlett, I didn’t.”
Her mouth slowly widens into a grin. “So that means I won, fair and square?”
Never mind the reality of this screwed-up situation—that the moment she stood in front of me, I couldn’t focus on the game. I tip my head back. “Yes. Yes, it does.”
“Then you owe me a dance, Brendan Marco.”
I groan. “Anything but that.”
There are some things I won’t do, and dancing is one of them. It’s not that I dance badly; actually, I’m pretty decent. I’m still resentful that Mom forced me into dance lessons when I was young. I was teased about it in elementary school, even if it did help me become a better athlete.
But now, the only time I dance is if it’s absolutely necessary, like when the Crushers required a choreographed dance for a fundraiser. Otherwise, I don’t.Period.
“You can’t say no. I won.” She looks up at me with those big dark eyes again, and I already know what my answer will be. “One dance, Bren. Just like old times.”
Which isexactlywhy I shouldn’t do it. I remember that dance—the night that changed everything between us. One dance led to a kiss that I’ve replayed so many times it’s embarrassing. And here she is, asking me to do it again.
“Scarlett.” I sigh, looking between her and the dance floor, knowing what this will do to me. “I don’t dance. You know that.”
“Come on, Bren.” She grabs my hand, trying to drag me there against my will. And because her hand is touching mine, I can’t seem to stop myself from following her.
“This song? Really?” I cringe as the first line of “Shake It Off” blares through the speaker, a song she used to play at our bonfires. Swift’s entire1989was on repeat during our summers together in high school.
“It’s classic!”