I loved sports. All sports.

But water sports? Let’s just say I didn’t have any experience with them except for the one time when I was sixteen. I went Jet Skiing and had to be freaking rescued by the coast guard because I couldn’t get back on my Jet Ski. Fine, so back then my upper body strength was that of a wet noodle. I developed later in life!

“You know how to drive those things?” She pointed.

I laughed. “Please, girl, I drive them in my sleep.”

And by them I meant cars.

Not the Jet Skis.

“So”—I pointed—“I guess we just get on our own . . . jets . . .” I nodded. “And race.”

“Race?” She perked up.

“Aw, how cute.” I patted her head. “Scared?”

“Of a metrosexual on a Jet Ski?” She snickered. “Watch me.”

So I did.

I watched her get on her ski and tried to mimic the movements. All was well until I was asked to turn it on.

A girl asked me to turn it on and I drew a blank, so I defaulted. “Aw, that’s not the first time someone’s asked me to turn them on.” I winked.

Her response was to take off on her own Jet Ski, splashing me in the process.

“Rex!” I said through gritted teeth. “What do I do?”

He winked. “Why, Max, you turn it on. Having trouble with your engine?”

“You’re dead to me!” I pointed at the camera crew. “Every single one of you! No Christmas presents.”

They stared blankly at me.

With a roar I turned the key, gripped the handles, and went back so fast my feet kicked said handles as I landed ass-first in the water.

Coughing up a lung, I made it over to my Jet Ski and managed to get back on before I tried again and took off after Sam.

Three hours later I was sore in places no man should ever be sore. I was so frozen to the seat that it took both Rex and the camera guy to help me get off the Jet Ski. Even then I walked like I had balls the size of a prize-winning bull as I made my way very slowly down the dock.

“So that was fun!” Sam jumped up and down next to me. I needed a drink and she looked like she was ready to go another round. Damn high schoolers.

“Yeah, it was righteous,” I said dryly.

“Wanna race?” she asked, getting into the ready position.

“No.” I shook my head. “I want a newspaper, a snifter of whiskey, house pants, and a chair.” I paused. “Holy shit, I’m my father!”

“How old are you?” She examined me from head to toe.

“Too old for the likes of you,” I grumbled. “Run along and climb a tree, and the old man will watch and take pictures.”

“Um . . .” Sam cringed.

“Poor sentence choice.” I nodded. “But to be fair I’m extremely dehydrated.”

“Right.” She tucked her hair behind her ear; it fell across her face anyway. “So do I stay or?”

“Oh, sorry!” I managed to pull her into my arms and press a chaste kiss to her lips. “You stay.”

“Woo-hoo!” She jumped again.

“Stop jumping, you’re making me tired.” I yawned.

She pushed me. “You’re old.”

“Truth.” I nodded. “See ya later. Thanks for the date, Sam.”

“Bye, Max!” She ran off.

“If only I could channel that youthful energy.” I sighed out loud.

“One hour until your next date.” Rex slapped me on the back. “Just think, after this you only have a few girls left!”

“Then I get off the Island?” I said in a hopeful voice.

“Yes.” Rex nodded. “Only to get on the roller coaster called marriage. Welcome to life.”

“That wasn’t encouraging,” I pointed out.

“If I meant to encourage you, you’d know it.” Rex smiled. “Now, how about you go refresh yourself and grab a drink.”

“Or ten.” I saluted and walked off toward my hut.

With a yawn I opened the door and locked it behind me. Rubbing my eyes I made my way to the bed and noticed that the sheets were pulled back, and slowly my head lifted.

Becca.

Becca naked.

Becca naked in my bed.

“Shit,” I grumbled. “I drowned, didn’t I? And this is heaven?”

Becca tugged me onto the bed. “I don’t know, does this feel like heaven?” She nipped my lips and then used her teeth to bite and lick me from my jaw to my ear.

“No.” I jerked toward her. “In heaven my clothes would already be off.”

“So . . .” She shrugged. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh, you know.” I sighed. “My morals.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Which I happily threw out the window the first time I got you naked.” I pushed her down on the bed. “Carry on.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

BECCA

I’d had four too many mimosas, which was the only explanation. Who in their right mind sneaks into a guy’s hut and hides in his bed naked? This girl. Apparently champagne and orange juice make it so that your moral compass doesn’t even work anymore!

It was too late to back out.

I realized this the minute the doorknob turned.

And then I was kind of . . . done panicking.

Because it was Max. And I liked Max. He was . . . just . . . incredible. He was smart, funny, gorgeous, and yeah, maybe I was acting a little slutty, but again, I was a bit inebriated, so what would normally be a terrible idea felt so right, especially when I saw the look of pure adoration cross his face. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.