Everyone who works within the New York Warriors organization knows that star player August Fletcher refuses to talk to most people...and especially team reporters. All except Quinn Castle, that is.
Quinn doesn't know why the broody football player...
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I LEFT THE BEACH HOUSE to find August leaning against his jeep, waiting for me.
He tipped his head back when I emerged, and even though I didn't hear him make a noise, he looked like he was groaning. Out of annoyance, I expected. Like he'd half-expected me to change my mind and text him that I was staying at his house.
Honestly, August hadn't complained as much as I thought he would about my presence. I assumed I'd be catching constant flack from him about tagging along to everything he did, but surprisingly, August had kept his mouth shut. Instead, he just glared at me occasionally.
Like he was doing right now, his eyes drifting over my outfit.
Ah, that was why he was annoyed.
"What?" I looked down at what I was wearing: jean shorts and a white tank top. The shorts were old and frayed, and the top wasn't anything special. "You told me to wear something that could get dirty. This was the most casual thing I'd packed."
"Fuck, Castle," August groaned. "You're walking out here like you're ready to win a wet t-shirt contest. Don't any of your clothes have more...clothes to them?"
"It's hot," I protested as sweat trickled down my back as if to back up my point.
When August merely grumbled and turned to get in the car, I bit down on a grin. "You think I'd win though?"
"What?" He frowned, watching as I slid into the passenger seat.
"The wet t-shirt contest. You think I'd win it?"
He shook his head, but I saw the hint of a smile on his lips. "I know you'd win, Castle."
Heat coiled in my lower belly, and I tried to ignore it as I crossed one leg over the other. Before he pulled out of the driveway, I offered, "If you think I should change, I will."
"We don't have time," August said, putting the jeep in reverse. "I'll just have to keep my eye on you tonight."
I pressed my lips together, trying to keep from showing how I felt about that. There was no use lying to myself: I liked August's eyes on me. Maybe I'd have to wear booty shorts more often on this little trip.
"Are you worried I'm going to organize risque contests in the middle of your uncle's bar?"
"I'm not worried about what you're gonna do, Castle." His frown deepened. "It's everyone else I'm worried about."
"Everyone else?" I questioned. "We practically had the whole bar to ourselves on Monday night. I don't think you have a lot to be concerned about, Fletcher."
"That was Monday," he said gruffly while pulling onto the empty road. "Today is Wednesday."
"Thank you for that prolific explanation. I think I just might put that quote in the article."
