Taming Chloe Summers (Grover Beach Team #7) (7 page)

Touché.

I hang my head and laugh. How exactly did that happen to me?

“All right!” Chloe claps her hands, making me look up even though she’s speaking to the girls. “Next, clasp your hands behind your back and move them up as far as you can, keeping your elbows straight.” She turns around, so the kids can see what she’s doing behind her back. The problem with this is, now her front is facing me, and when she moves her arms up behind her back, her boobs stick out provocatively. The more she stretches her shoulders, the farther those puppies push forward and her stomach flattens inward. Her tee is riding up once again, but only a little, exposing just a thin strip of skin between the hem and her shorts this time.

It’s enough to make my mouth water.

Biting my bottom lip, I struggle to suppress a smirk, because now it’s totally obvious why she took my advice to stretch. She knew very well the effect it would have on me. The little witch!

“Are you all right there, Justin?” she asks with such sweetness in her voice that it’s actually ridiculous. Or maybe my reaction to her teasing is.

“Yep, I’m totally fine,” I reply, playing her game, but my husky voice betrays me.

Her eyes are dark and untamable under her hair, which is now wild after she tossed it backward when coming up from the first stretching pose. “Good. Because we’re going to roll our hips next. Maybe you want to join us?”

I bite my lip harder. “No, I don’t think I will. Not today, anyway.” It’s time for me to leave, before the situation inside my pants gets out of control. I rise and step down from the bench, tucking my hands into my pockets and pressing the heel of my hand against my beginning erection.

For the briefest moment, Chloe’s gaze drops to my hips. I know she can’t see anything out of place, and yet I wouldn’t bet my bike that she doesn’t know. She winks at me before I go, and it makes me chuckle.

A quick jump in the lake is probably the best I can do now.

Chloe

Dance club, my ass. Justin better come up with something else if he wants me to be involved in camp activities. It’s not my fault he assigned soccer to pimple-faced Greyson.

After five minutes of stretching, and when the jerk is finally gone, I sit back down on the table and tell the kids to do freestyle again. Putting on the sunglasses I’ve brought, I lean back and brace myself on my elbows, glancing up into the flawless sky. There’s no sign of the rain clouds of last night; everything has dried up again. In fact, it’s way too hot, and I start sweating while lying here. At least my tan will deepen this way, so perhaps all isn’t lost.

A small cough drags me out of my tanning musings. Pulling my attention out of the clouds, I nail a cool stare on the girl with long, angel-like locks in front of me. A giant strawberry is centered on her orange T-shirt. She holds my gaze, though, apart from a little quiver, her lips aren’t moving.

“What’s up, Blondie?” I ask.

She clears her throat again. Her hands are awkwardly clasped in front of her waist. If she were to start digging a hole in the dirt with her toe now, she’d have me completely convinced she’s scared of me.

“Well?” I prompt, lifting my brows behind my shades.

“I was wondering if…perhaps…”

Okay, this is getting frustrating. I sit up and take my sunglasses off. “Perhaps what?”

After a third cough, which hopefully gives her enough courage to finally spit out whatever is on her mind, she starts rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet and forces a little, shy smile. “You don’t seem to like dancing, and I was wondering if, maybe, you’d like some help?”

“Help?” My eyes grow wider.

“Yes. I thought I could—”

“You think
you
can help me?” That’s ridiculous. What on earth could a kid do to take the burden of supervising the lot of them off of me? Then again, maybe I should hear her out. Justin was right. I don’t want to sit here every morning and have this uncoordinated bunch jiggling in front of me. I get down from the table, folding my arms in front of my chest. “How?”

Her smile disappears. She backs away a step. “I— We learned these dances at school. It’s called Zumba. If you let me use your iPod to find the right songs on iCloud, I could show the others some choreos.”

One arm still around me, I brace the elbow of my other on it and tap my forefinger on my lips. She really wants to take over instructing the group? That’s probably the best chance I have. So, after a moment of thinking, I swipe my arm to the side, pointing at the iPod I borrowed from Julie, and tell Blondie, “It’s all yours.”

Warily, she walks to the table but keeps me in her sight until she picks up the device and starts searching for that song she needs. It doesn’t take her long to find it. After setting up the new music, some Latin American song I’ve never heard before, she turns to the other girls. Suddenly, they are all excited.

I sit back down and watch my new assistant with intrigue, while she shows the others some easy steps and movements. She’s really good at it, too. At least the kids seem to like it and are eager to learn.

Excellent! Job done. I tip my head back and enjoy the sun on my face.

When the hour is over, I turn off the music and send the girls away. They’re free to do whatever they want with the rest of their morning. And so am I. As they scuttle away, I stand up on the bench and shout after the one in the orange tee, “Hey, Blondie!” Startled, her feet slide to a halt on the gravel, and she pivots. “Same time, same place tomorrow,” I tell her.

The girl looks at me like a horse nipped her in the butt, but then she finds her smile again and nods. “My name is Addison, by the way.”

Yeah, whatever.

When she runs off after her friends, I walk back into our cabin and do my nails. Pink polish for today, because it matches my bikini and I’m supposed to hang out at the lake in the afternoon and play Baywatch.

*

Admittedly, camp isn’t all bad. The last water droplets from a swim across the frog pond and back are slowly drying in my belly button as I lie sprawled out on a huge striped towel in the grass. Aside from dance-club duties and having to sit at a table with Justin three times a day, this isn’t much different than what I’d have been doing at home during the first half of summer. Well, minus the partying with Brinna, Kirsten, and Lesley in the evenings, of course. Having midnight snacks with Two, Three, and Four in the dining hall doesn’t make up for that.

I roll onto my front, folding my arms under my chin, and close my eyes behind my sunglasses. Breakfast at seven thirty in the morning forced me out of bed way too early today. It’s summer vacation, after all. The time of year to sleep in and brunch at two in the afternoon. A little nap will make up for all that now—if I can doze off with the noise Julie and her group of volleyball players are making nearby, that is.

It turns out I can’t, so I just turn my head to the other side and start daydreaming of London and the many parties we’re going to throw there soon. Moments later, something cold trickles on the spot between my shoulder blades. I screech, every muscle in my body tensing in protest of the frigid water on my skin. When I roll to my back and look up at who’s casting a shadow over me, I see abs.

Hard ones.

Drops of water are sliding down the valleys between them, touching and soaking into the waistband of neon-green, knee-length swim trunks. Drenched, the baggy material clings to Justin’s strong thighs and drips on his feet.

He casts a teasing smile down at me from six feet above. “Hey, tiger, wanna play volleyball? Julie’s short a few players.”

Does he not have eyes in his head? I’m trying to relax here. “Not interested, but thanks for asking.” I wave a dismissive hand. “Now get out of the sun, please.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, not looking half as amused as before. “How did I know you would say that?”

“Maybe because you’re born with a clairvoyant bone in your body?” I suggest sweetly.

He hesitates without a comeback and just gapes down at me. Then he angles his head all of a sudden and jumps on the spot twice. More water rains down on me, landing on my stomach this time. I shriek, cringing again, and reach to slap him on the leg. Except, my fingertips only brush his calf as he jogs away, over to the sand volleyball court, laughing.
Jerk
.

Rolling back to my front, I’ve barely lowered my head onto my arms when Julie calls out my name. What the hell is the matter with them today? A short nap is all I want, is that really asking too much?

“What?” I growl, not looking up but speaking loud enough for her to hear me, wherever she is.

“We need one more player for a game. Don’t you want to join us?”

Dammit, I already said
no
. Are they slow on the uptake today? Before I can snarl an answer, however, Justin tells the Owl leader, “No need to ask her. She won’t come because she’s scared she’ll make a fool of herself. Chloe can’t play volleyball to save her life.”

My head snaps up. “What?”

Justin stands next to Julie on the sandy court and presses his lips together, a shrug rolling off his shoulders.

“For your information, I can play volleyball quite well.” I just don’t want to right now.

“No, you can’t,” he replies in a taunting voice. “I’ve seen you play a couple of times in high school. You might be good at soccer, but if there’s no twenty-by-ten-foot goal for you to aim at, you suck at sports.” A round of snickers erupts from the kids in the sand behind him.

“Take that back!” And when the hell has he ever seen me play volleyball? Boys and girls had gym in separate classes at Grover Beach High.

“I will.” He cocks a brow. “If you prove me wrong.”

Oh, the twerp will get his match, all right. Pushing myself up from the ground, I leave the towel behind and stride to Julie and her group, grinding my teeth. She stands with three kids on one side of the net, Justin with two girls on the other side. I’d rather have played against him, but in the end it makes no difference whether he’s on my team or not. He’ll get to watch me play, and then he’ll say
sorry
.

Cutting him a brief, tight-lipped grin, I take up position behind him on the left side of the court. Julie’s team is first to serve. When Julie gets ready to smash the ball, Justin leans forward, hands braced on his thighs in attention, and sticks out his butt to me. Even in neon-green swim trunks, it’s a nice ass.

Something smacks me on the shoulder. Hard. Everyone turns to me. “That was your ball.” Justin chuckles. “See, I knew you couldn’t play.”

“I could if you’d stop sticking your butt in my face,” I snap.

“Why? Is my butt distracting you?”

Yes. “No. It’s an annoying eyesore.”

“Okay.” He lifts his hands in surrender, stepping as close to the net as possible and facing me instead of our opponents, as Julie prepares for her next serve. “I certainly don’t want to give you an excuse for failing at this.”

I wait for what’s coming next from him, but he doesn’t move.

“What? You’re going to stand there and play backward now?” I ask.

“Anything to keep you from ogling my hot boody.” He waggles his brows, and I pretend to gag. But the jerk really stays where he is and smiles at me all the time as I try to concentrate on what’s going on behind him. Not much better than a view of his butt. Gee, how I hate him.

This time I’m prepared when the ball zooms at me, and I jump to bump it up. Justin bumps it, too, and a girl with ginger hair who was in dance club this morning catapults it back to Julie’s team, where it lands in the sand. The score is even.

Clockwise, we all move one position. At least I don’t have to look at Spider-Boy’s face anymore and can concentrate on the game. And here I’m at my best, bumping and smashing each ball that comes at me. Justin plays quite well himself, but I’m definitely an asset to this team, and he’s
so
going to admit it when we’re done.

After a couple more volleys, it’s his turn to serve. For the mean teasing before, I decide to pay him back and fight fire with fire. Provocatively leaning forward as I stand in front of him, I brace my hands on my knees and display my bottom in my pink bikini.

Justin coughs behind me—twice—but the ball has yet to zoom over me and the net. I tilt my head back and cast him a wicked grin over my shoulder. “Having trouble back there?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he stakes me with a stare. But then he shakes his head, and when he positions to serve the ball, I look forward again, paying attention to the game. The sound of his palm connecting with the ball tells me when he serves. Except, a split second later, something smacks me hard on my right butt cheek, and I scream, jerking upright. The ball bounces off my behind and lands on the ground.

“What the f—!” I spin around. Justin stands in the same position as before, an annoying smirk on his face, and the bastard winks at me.

While everyone else is rolling in the sand, laughing, I rub my butt in irritation and turn around again. “Can we play now or what?”

Sluggishly, the others gather themselves and stand in formation again. The next time Justin serves, he smashes the ball right into the ground on the other side, scoring an ace. He gets to serve four times in a row afterward because our team pockets every point.

We’re still far ahead when a guy on Julie’s team loses the ball to us again. It’s my turn next, so I move back to the serving line.

Concentrating on the ball, I see from the corner of my eye how Justin is bracing himself on his knees again, watching me with his head tilted sideways. I hesitate, cutting him a quick glance. The smile on his lips is warm and genuine when he nods at me. “I knew it. You’re one helluva player.”

He knew it? Excuse me? What happened to the big mouth who said I couldn’t play to save my life? But then, of course he would have said crap like that, only to goad me into playing with them. In spite of his sneaky tactic, a tiny part of me is indeed happy he did, because hammering Julie’s team is more fun than napping in the grass. And an even bigger part of me is actually pleased with Justin’s compliment. Grinning proudly, I smash the ball over the net.

We score once again then lose three points in a row. The girl with the ginger hair on our team plays fairly well. It’s the other one, a tiny thing with a black pixie cut and wearing a blue T-shirt over her swimsuit, who gives away all the easy points. Today is probably her first time on a volleyball court. Because I don’t like losing, I dive for the incoming volleys twice as hard as necessary.

When a tall guy with black swim trunks steps up to serving position on Julie’s team, I’m prepared for his high shot. It goes straight to the middle. I dash forward and jump, my arms raised high in the air. “It’s mine!”

Except, Justin yells the same, and when he jumps for the ball too, it’s like an asteroid knocks me out of orbit. I fly backward and land on my side in the sand. The air whooshes out of my lungs.

I don’t have time to gather myself before Justin reaches down for my hand. “Upsy-daisy,” he says and pulls me up as fast as if the asteroid has turned into a black hole that’s sucking me in now. I crash into his chest. He straightens me and wipes some sand off my shoulder with a quick, gentle brush. The gesture is casual—he doesn’t even look at me, already jogging back to his position. I stare at his back and wonder what the hell got into me. Because there’s a tiny yet undeniable part of me that enjoyed the touch of his warm hand on my skin.