“Pleasure.” Reid chuckled.
“Yeah.” I looked down at the water. “Because it’s so—”
“Naturally eye-popping, almost like, so big that you can’t help but stare a bit?”
“Oh, look!” I pointed at the water. “A fish.”
“I can help you with him.”
I snorted. “We aren’t in fifth grade, and I don’t need help passing notes, thank you very much. It is what it is.”
“Fine.” Reid went silent.
“But, you know, if I was to ask what his favorite food was—”
“Mexican. We’re Canadian, but it doesn’t stop him from believing he was adopted and his real father is in the Mexican drug cartel.”
“Huh?”
“Because he has olive skin.” Reid rolled his eyes. “He likes chips and salsa. One time when he was ten he dreamed that a giant tortilla chip was chasing him and the only way to be rid of the chip was to learn karate and break it apart with his bare hands.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“The man’s a god when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. Thank the chip, Becca, don’t judge.”
I nodded and turned back around to see that Max and Doc had disappeared. My eyes greedily scanned the beach until they landed on Doc. She was sitting on one of the chairs, drinking a margarita and crying.
A smile curled around my lips before I had the decency to stop it.
“Wow, you heartless little hussy.” Reid chuckled. “Laughing at another girl’s tears. I may as well call you Max.”
“Huh?”
Reid pointed to Doc. “White.”
“What?”
“He really, really likes when girls wear white.” With a wink Reid walked off, leaving me in the ocean all by myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MAX
Kissing a girl with dry mouth? Not fun. Not fun at all. It was a toss-up between wanting to offer her some of my spit just so she didn’t choke to death, and just tripping her in the sand and pretending like a turtle was at fault, you know, because turtles are so fast and they can be sneaky little bastards . . .
“Doc,” I started, then shook my head. “I mean, St—” Shit, it was either Stacy or Shannon, maybe Suzanne? With an emphasis on the ooze? Damn it!
“Lucky!” She giggled. “My name’s Lucky.”
Insert mental groan here. I mean, what’s a guy like me supposed to do with a name like that? I could spend an entire twenty-four-hour period making up jokes just using her name. But she’d take it as flirting of the sexual nature and I think we’ve already established that she’s grossly dehydrated and in need of food, not Max. Honestly, at this point I was a bit worried that if she saw me naked she’d mistake Mighty Max for one of those giant Costco hot dogs and I wasn’t a fan of getting bit, not in that way, feel me?
“Lucky.” I said her name softly as I gripped her wrists and pushed her back. “I’m trying really hard to keep things fair.”
“Fair?”
“Right.” I nodded. “With all the contestants.”
Her blank stare said it all. I’d have to spell it out, and even then, I wasn’t sure if she knew how to spell, so it was going to be an adventure. Mental note—talk slowly.
“Lucky,” I tried again as she took a step forward. I stepped back, Little G quivered in my pocket. I know, little buddy, I know. Swear he was like my robot saying, “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!” “I’m just here to get to know you girls . . . your heart, not your . . . lips.” Round of applause for Max, please. Should I bow after that speech? Because I sure as hell wanted to get to know someone’s lips. In an up-close-and-personal way.
“Oh.” Lucky’s brow furrowed. “I get it, I mean, I shouldn’t have come on so strong. It’s just, you’re really, really hot.”
Flattery will get you everywhere. I tried desperately not to do a typical Max maneuver—you know, the type where I made the girl feel like the compliment actually made me feel like I was Superman, by flashing a megawatt smile and puffing my chest out.
“Thank you.” A simple response. Straightforward. Add bright smile. End scene. Oscar performance.
“So . . .” Oh, my hell, why wasn’t she leaving? “Do you, like, want to hang out for a bit?”
“Um.” I stepped back. “I’m kind of tired after all that exercise.” Ha, I cut my teeth on boxing training. Yeah, right, I was tired. Try just a bit frightened. I didn’t want to spend any more time with her. Little G concurred, if his shivering was any indication. Poor tyke. We’ll make it through, buddy. Just a few more feet to the safety of my hut. “So I think I’m going to take a nap and shower and . . . rest.”
“I could help you—”
“No thanks!” I chuckled. “Go have a few drinks, and have fun for me, all right? Oh, and Lucky, can you do me a huge favor?”
Her eyes brightened. I almost felt guilty for turning her down, but I didn’t like her. Clearly I was changing if I was turning down hot girls—especially ones who didn’t have brain cells to spare. “Go eat some food . . . I love a girl with an appetite.”
“You do?” She giggled. “Okay, well, I’ll go eat then, because that’s what you want.” Her eyes lowered to my stomach. “And I want whatever you want.”