The Secret (Magnolia Grove #4) - SERIES COMPLETE

Chapter 5 - {Cammie}

WATER SPLASHES AGAINST my scorching skin, and I peek my eyes open, expecting to see Holden or Wells, but it's Brody. And he's not looking at me. He's got this cheesy grin on his face, and he keeps flicking his wrist, flinging water on Amie—and ultimately me because I'm right next to her. Ugh. "If you like her, Brody, you should just say so. The way to a girl's heart isn't by water attacks."

His grin widens, but he never looks at me. "I like you, Amie," he says. Then he flicks his wrist again, this time sending a huge splash in our direction. "Do you like me?"

She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Is he actually serious? Is she turning him down after he had the guts to admit that? Amie gets out of the chair and saunters the few steps to where she's standing over him. Wells and Violet are so caught up in themselves, it's like they aren't even here. "No," Amie says.

Whoa. Wow. Harsh.

Just like so many other times, the intense feeling of a stare distracts me from the two of them. Holden's head is barely above the surface as he slowly swims toward the shallow end. When our eyes connect, he makes no effort to hide the fact he's been gazing at me. He doesn't look away. He doesn't blush. When he gets beside Brody, he rests his arms on the concrete and gives me a lopsided smile. My insides quiver. And all of it pisses me off. Why does he have to be so gorgeous? Why is he playing games with me? I get up and tap Amie on the shoulder. We're both standing in front of these respective fools who have been our friends, but have apparently become traitors the older they get—who seem to want to annoy us more than usual. "Let's go watch a movie. They're bored, so they're playing a game. We're their pawns."

Amie crosses her arms. "I never really liked board games."

Brody laughs. "I knew it! You're more of a Twister kind of girl, aren't you?"

Ugh. Huffing, I cross my arms, too, in a show of solidarity.

Holden puts his hands around my ankles just as I'm about to walk away. "What kind of game do you think I'm playing with you?"

I close my eyes a second. "Easy. Marco Polo."

He laughs. "Um, you know that game actually requires you to be in the water, right?"

He starts to tug. No. He's not pulling me in again. "Holden!"

He gives me a little laugh. "Why do you think it's Marco Polo?"

I lick my lips, the sun having dried them out. I can't believe I just said that, and now he's going to run with it. "You really need me to spell it out for you?"

"Oh, I don't need you to, but I just want to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

He narrows his eyes a bit, then jerks me back into the water. When I come up for air, his hands skim my butt before sliding up my sides, and instead of the pool cooling me down, my insides are on the verge of spontaneous combustion. No, not spontaneous. Just combustion. I splash him. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Throwing me or pulling me into the pool?"

"Because you're supposed to be in the water. That's the point of being here."

"No, the point of being here is to get a tan. The pool is for when it gets too hot to handle—to cool me down."

He chews on the bottom corner of his lip and it's like his eyes are mirror balls, the light from the sun and the pool reflecting off them. "How's that working out for you?"

I glance away, but make no effort to get out of his arms, to break the contact. "What are you doing?" The words come out breathy and too soft. Too seductive. He rubs his hands against my back. They almost make it down to the base of my spine, and I'm paralyzed. There's no way I could stop him if I wanted to, but that's the thing. I'm not sure I want to. Stop him, that is.