"Yeah. It's not bad."
"That's one way to put it."
Before I can respond, Beck's voice drifts in from the deck.
"Well, well, well. Look who it is. The miracle worker herself."
I close my eyes, silently praying for the patience my sister shows whenever she's talking to her daughter.
Josie turns, and there's Beck, leaning against the sliding glass door with a margarita in one hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. Mason is behind him, looking vaguely apologetic. Diego appears at his elbow, the towel still over his shoulder.
"Señorita!" Diego says, his face lighting up. "What a pleasant surprise. Can I offer you something to drink?"
Josie blinks, clearly thrown by the hospitality. "I—thank you. That's very kind, but I really just came to grab my laptop."
"Nonsense." Diego waves a dismissive hand. "You're here. You're a guest. You'll have a drink. It's the law."
"I don't think that's a law," Mason says mildly.
"In my house, it is."
"I'll get your laptop. It's in my bag," I say, turning away from the chaos.
I can feel her eyes on me as I cross to the entryway table where I dumped my gear. My sports bag is sitting open, and sure enough, there's a sleek silver laptop poking out from under a sweaty practice jersey.
How the hell did that get there?
I grab it, turning back to find Josie exactly where I left her, but now she's holding a glass filled with margarita. Diego, the traitor, winks at me from the kitchen doorway.
"Just a small one," he says. "For the nerves."
Josie's cheeks flush, and I realize she's nervous. Actually nervous.
Good. So am I.
"Here." I hold out the laptop, and when she reaches for it, our fingers brush. Just for a second, but long enough for me to remember exactly how those hands felt on my skin. "You need this for tomorrow? More torture planning?"
She takes the laptop. "It's calledmarketing."
"Same thing."
Josie's gaze drifts around the foyer, her head tilting as she takes in the sheer size of this place. She turns on the spot, her white sundress spinning with her, and I watch the way the fabric catches on every gorgeous curve of her body.
I can't help but stare either.Ather.
At the way her hips sway when she moves, at the soft shadow between her breasts where that neckline dips, at the miles of bare leg that draw my eyes down.
My fingers twitch at my sides.
I could step forward. Right now. Lift that hem up, bunch it around her waist and remind myself exactly how sweet she tastes. I remember the sounds she made when I had her against that hotel door, the way her nails had raked down my back, the desperate little whimper she let out.
Fuck. She wasso goodthat night. So fucking good.
"Would you... uh…" I clear my throat. "…like to see the rest of the place?"
She blinks, a pink flush creeping up her neck.
"Um, is that weird? Sorry if I'm being weird. It's just… this house is beautiful. I've never been in a place like this."