The Consequence of Revenge

by Rachel Van Dyken

  It would be fine if she had just been patting my leg, you know, in a motherly way.

  If mothers did what that girl was doing—it would result in a hell of a long prison sentence, that’s all I’m saying.

  She didn’t pat.

  She caressed.

  Then slightly pressed her fingers into my thigh, massaging, moving, making my hips want to drive toward her with such hunger that I had to imagine Reid naked to keep myself from having an inappropriate moment on camera.

  “It is.” I finally found my voice as her hand stopped moving. “Really pretty.” I turned and gazed down at her.

  She was watching the waves.

  I was watching her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.

  When she finally realized I wasn’t looking at the same thing, she looked up at me. Her eyes appeared heavy as she looked out from underneath those thick, dark lashes.

  Her hand moved.

  Ha, so did I.

  I mean not my body, but let’s just say parts of my body responded in a very . . . cheerful way. Yes, let’s go with cheerful. Oh, hell, my body was damn near rejoicing and breaking out into song.

  Slowly her hand slid up my thigh and squeezed, when she grazed what I’m only assuming she thought was my cell phone. I jerked away from her.

  Spoiler alert—I’d left my cell phone in my hut.

  It was to remain off at all times. As per the rules.

  And I was so damn on.

  “Swim?” I choked. “Do you want to go for a swim?”

  “But I don’t have my swimsuit.”

  “Me either.” I shrugged. “But you’re already aware that never stops me, does it?”

  Becca blushed.

  The cameras leaned in.

  “Filming done yet?” I asked, not taking my eyes off Becca.

  “We need about ten more minutes of tape. Then again, if you get naked, we’ll film till you’re done.”

  Becca’s hand moved again.

  I was ready to bust out the bloody hells and I wasn’t even British. See? She was driving me crazy! I was officially changing nationalities! Her hand slipped. Swear it had to have slipped because she was actually now almost copping a feel.

  O Canada!

  “Done! For the night, done! Ha-ha.” I couldn’t stop the nervous laughter. Becca smiled and then looked down at my physical tribute to her beauty. Ha, if I weren’t so aroused I’d laugh at my own joke.

  “Max!” Becca shouted.

  I covered her mouth with mine, then let my lips trail to her ear. “Long story.”

  “Huge story,” she whispered against my lips.

  “Damn right it is.” I pulled her into my lap. Irritated that the light from the camera was two seconds away from making me permanently blind. “Go away!”

  “What?” Becca pulled back.

  I jerked her against me, my mouth urgently finding hers, before I broke the kiss and said, “Not you, them.”

  “Not when you give us this.” Big Al chuckled.

  I kissed Becca’s neck. “A little help?”

  “Hmm.” She tugged my lower lip, then trailed a kiss down my jaw.

  I groaned and said through clenched teeth, “That’s not the type of help I meant.”

  “What,” she whispered in my ear, “do you propose I do?”

  “Not feel me up!” I snapped in her ear, then gave it a little tug, because, you know, I was there and all.

  “But Reid said . . .”

  “And you listened!” I whispered harshly.

  “You don’t even know”—she arched her back as I kissed down her chest—“what . . .” she panted, “he said.”

  “Anything.” I gripped her by the shoulders to steady her. “And I do mean anything and everything he says—you take with a grain of salt, or just don’t listen.” I released my hold on her shoulders, which was a mistake, because it caused her knees to sink farther into the sand on either side of me, making my body damn near explode. “Headgear, Grandma, Reid pleasuring Grandma, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Garfield!”

  “Please tell me that’s not dirty talk.” Becca gave me a concerned stare.

  “I’m trying not to . . .” I held up my hands. “You know.”

  She tilted her head.

  “Your fault.” I pointed at her and then stared at her mouth and lost my train of thought.

  “Max?”

  “Shh.” I pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m . . . trying really hard here.”

  “How’s that working out?”

  “I said I was trying . . . hard, Becca, you do the math,” I snapped.

  “Guys!” Reid came barreling down the beach to the camera crew. “Rex says to wrap things up.”

  Big Al grunted and gave a firm nod. The camera turned off, and within a few minutes we were alone.

  Except for a grinning Reid.

  And the goat that followed.

  First things first . . . I was going to kill Reid, and then I was going to do a Google search on the sleeping habits of the goat species.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  BECCA

  Max slowly helped me to my feet. I tried to avert my eyes so I wasn’t looking directly at him and his happy place, but it was almost impossible. Thankfully, things seemed to be going back to normal since Reid’s arrival.

  “Ah, Brother.” Max gritted his teeth together. “How lovely of you to join us on this beautiful evening.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed, and we started walking toward Reid.

  “No problem.” Reid’s eyes narrowed at Max, and then lowered. Was the guy seriously checking out his brother? “I mean, I don’t have a problem. Do you have a little problem? Anything you wish to discuss? Be rescued from?”

  Max shrugged. “Not really. Oh, and thanks for interrupting what I’m pretty sure is going to go down in TV history as the best kiss ever—I should punch you in the throat.”

  “But—” Reid looked between the two of us, then glanced back down at Max. “I thought that . . .”

  “Come on, Hades.” Max clicked his tongue.

  The goat fell into step beside us as we walked back toward his hut.

  “Becca and I were just going to discuss our game plan for the rest of the week.” Max said this so nonchalantly that I almost missed it, and then he winked, and every thought flew out the window.

  “Right,” I said quickly. “That.”

  “Game plan?”

  “Oh, and breakfast in the morning”—Max nodded—“is super early so we really need our sleep. Thanks for nothing, Reid. See ya.”

  With a tug Max had me in his hut, followed by the goat, who surprisingly stepped around us and went to the corner, where he lay down on what I can only imagine used to be articles of clothing and started chomping down.

  “Aren’t you afraid?” I pointed at the goat.

  “Nah, as long as Hades has underwear I’m his favorite person. Can’t tell if it makes him horny or just so damn distracted he doesn’t care whether it’s me or a stranger he stays with.”

  In response the goat made a gurgling noise and looked over at us, sighing contentedly.

  “I have to say”—I smiled at Max—“I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of me too.” Max beamed. “Now, about that discussion we were having on the beach.”

  He pulled me closer to his body, but my feet hit something on the ground. Papers fluttered around my sandals. “What’s this?”

  “Oh, that’s my chart.”

  “Your chart?”

  He nodded. “To ward off the crazies.”

  “Did you actually learn the names of all the girls?”

  “Yup, and I assigned nicknames.”

  “Who’s that?” I pointed to one of the girls, one with short-cropped black hair.

  “Nicki, but her nickname is Minion. She wore overalls the first day of filming and every time she smiles I swear I hear the theme song to Despicable Me.”

  I covered my laughter with my hand. Yeah, that mental
picture was spot-on.

  “And her?” I was both curious and buying time. I didn’t want to finish the conversation from the beach, because I was pretty sure I would end up . . . naked, somewhere, and I’d only known Max for three days. Three days and he was already making me second-guess all my preconceived notions about the type of guy he was. I’d thought that because he was funny he was harmless, but I’d had no idea funny could be dangerous because it was too easy to let him in and once he was in he stayed there—refusing to budge. He wasn’t just funny; he was sexy and had a personality that was electric.

  Besides, he kissed like a dream.

  An actual dream.

  If I could build every dream from here on out, it would include that man’s mouth on every part of my body.

  “Hey.” Max grabbed my hand. “You okay? You’re really flushed.”

  “Yeah,” I croaked. “I’m a bit hot.”

  “If you remember, I did offer to go skinny-dipping.”

  “Ha!” I hit him playfully across the chest. “So you never answered my question, who’s that girl?”

  Max didn’t take his eyes off me. “Easy, it’s Cat, or Catherine, and I actually just use the name Cat because she has super freakishly long nails that I’m pretty sure have some sort of fungus growing underneath them on account that when one broke earlier today it oozed.”

  “Whoa!” I held up my hands. “Not a mental picture I needed.”

  “You asked.” His smile was bright. Was it really necessary he be that good-looking and funny? “So . . .” He brought my hand to his full lips and kissed it. “Is that a no on getting naked?”

  “Again . . .” I rolled my eyes even though the idea made me hot all over. “Does that line work?”

  His eyes hooded with desire. “You tell me.”

  “Nope,” I lied. Yes. Hell, yes, it worked.

  “Fine.” He dropped my hand. Was he seriously admitting defeat so soon? “We should probably plan my revenge tonight anyways.”

  “Revenge?” Keeping up with Max was like trying to follow the thought process of a first grader on his first day of school. One minute he’s talking about pencils, the next he’s eating the crayons.

  “For Reid, tell me—” Max put his hands on his hips, drawing my eyes to exactly where I had no business looking. He groaned. “Okay, tell me but please don’t stare at me while I ask you this question, it makes things—”

  “Hard.” I grinned.

  “You have no damn clue.” Max swore violently for a few seconds.

  “Garfield?” I offered. “That help?”

  “Right, thanks.” Breath hissed between his teeth. “Reid told you what, exactly?”

  I scratched my head. “He said that you were nervous and having a rough night and that if I just rubbed your leg you’d feel at ease. He said it was one of your things.”

  “One of my things?” Max’s eyebrows shot up as he repeated under his breath, “One of my things, that bastard!”

  “I’m guessing it’s not?”

  “The hell it’s not!” Max roared. “Any guy would sell his soul to get a woman to touch him like that. The problem isn’t the touching; it’s the situation that caused it! Damn it, Reid!” Max’s voice rose. “Look at the goat, notice anything?”

  Um, yeah. It was entirely too pleased to be eating Max’s clothes.

  “Look closer.”

  I looked closer.

  “Get there faster.”

  I blinked. “Holy crap, are those your boxers?”

  “All of them. Just in case you weren’t aware.” Max swore. “Oh, and P.S.: Here’s a free anatomy lesson. The better the clothing barrier the less chance you have of a . . . cheerful surprise.”

  I giggled and then full-out laughed my ass off.

  “Yeah, so now it’s war, and during wartime, we don’t laugh. We get even.”

  “And how do we plan on doing that? Hmm?”

  Max’s grin was pure evil. “Oh, I have a few ideas. How comfortable are you with scaring him shitless?”

  I pretended to think about it.

  “Not the time for hesitation. You’re either hashtag Team Max or hashtag Team Reid.”

  “Did you just hashtag yourself?”

  “Yes!” Max threw his hands in the air. “Because what we’re about to embark on is Twitter-trend-worthy, all right? You in or out?”

  He held out his hand.

  I grabbed it. “In, of course.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “Who says I’m yours?” I teased.

  “That,” Max said seriously, nodding toward me. “That look in your eyes. It says it for me.” His tone was confident, but something in his eyes gave me pause. He looked . . . unsure of himself.

  He tilted his head, licked his lips, then opened his mouth—but no sound came out. Was it possible he was feeling just as unsure as I was?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  BECCA

  Max walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a black bag with masking tape across it. Written on the masking tape was “OMRT.”

  “Uh—” I pointed. “What’s that stand for?”

  “Operation: Max’s Reign of Terror.”

  “Yeah, and it’s not weird you actually labeled something that. That doesn’t make me doubt your sanity at all.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m always prepared for all possible outcomes. I’m like freaking Bradley Cooper in Limitless but with better eyes.”

  Max had finally snapped.

  “Pay attention.” He unzipped the black bag. “Because this is going to take a type of finesse that can’t be taught, although it could possibly be learned if you have someone like me to teach you. Lucky for us I was born with it.”

  I tried desperately not to roll my eyes. “Fine, what do I do?”

  Max pulled out a needle and flicked it with his finger.

  “Whoa!” I held up my hands.

  “HA!” He laughed. “Freaked you out, right?”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “Please.” He snorted. “It’s one tranquilizer.”

  “Tranquilizer? Where the hell did you get a tranquilizer?”

  “Online. What you think? I zookeep on my days off?”

  “No,” I snapped. “Because having days off means you have days off, meaning you’re employed!”

  “Who says I’m not employed?” Max asked, his shoulders tense.

  I shuffled my feet. “Well, are you?”

  “Are you?” he snapped then let out a groan.

  I held up my hands. “Whoa there, easy. And for your information, I don’t just work at Starbucks. I’m a student, you know, studying to do something with my life.”

  Max let out a snort.

  It was the first time I’d seen his happy-go-lucky façade stripped and in its place something that looked a lot like regret and a bit of anger came to the surface.

  “I, um.” I exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Damn it, Becca. I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck! Now, hold the needle while I pull out the Bengay.” Okay, so apparently that part of the conversation was closed. Max was back to his oddly attractive self and I was left wondering what the hell had just happened. Clearly jobs were a bit of a sore subject.

  “Wow.” I took the needle in my hands, careful to point it outward. “There’s a sentence I hope to never hear again.”

  “Shh.” Max carefully pulled out the Bengay and whispered, “My precious.”

  He was either insane or just downright pissed about what Reid had done, whatever that may have been. It was tie between being oddly attracted to his erratic behavior and also a bit frightened that I still wanted to kiss him despite the fact that he was caressing a tube of Bengay and looking like he was about five seconds away from stabbing Reid in the ass.

  After a few minutes of setting his “tools” onto the bed he handed me an iPad. “An elephant never forgets.”

  “You’re a man.” I felt
the need to point that out just in case that needle had pricked him and he was suffering a mental breakdown.

  “Hell, yes I am,” Max grumbled. “Which is why it’s damn near impossible to stand next to you without thinking about ripping off that white dress.”

  It got very quiet in that hut.

  Quiet and tense.

  Like, climb-the-walls tense.

  “Said that out loud, didn’t I?” Max closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “ ’Fraid so.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “And an elephant never forgets, so . . .”

  “Don’t toss my words back at me!” He grabbed me by the shoulders and pointed me in the direction of the door. “Now go stick it to him.”

  “Maybe we should work on a different choice of words.” I sighed. “What exactly am I sticking?”

  “The needle.” Max pushed my body closer to the entrance. “I’ll be right outside, all you need to do is stick him in the leg, the arm, any appendage will do.”

  “Any appendage will do?” I repeated. “You do realize you’re asking me to commit a crime?”

  “Does it look like we’re in America?”

  Hades made a choking sound from the corner.

  Max ran over and pulled the boxers from his mouth and patted his head. “As I was saying, would this happen in the US?”

  “Maybe Canada.” I smirked.

  “Ha-ha, haven’t heard that before. Oh, let’s make fun of the country with free health insurance, what do you have?”

  I squinted. “You do realize that sex changes are free in Canada but you have to pay out of pocket to get a pair of glasses, right?”

  “NOT THE POINT!” Max raised his voice. “Are you going to stick him or not?”

  I groaned. “What if I say no?”

  “Then . . .” Max’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t protect you from the girls.”

  “Oh, really?” My eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Protecting me?”

  Max’s focus was on my heaving chest, and he shook his head. “Sorry, can you repeat the questions? Your boobs were talking to me.”

  “They were not!”

  “Um, they moved, and I’m pretty sure the right one said hi. Swear it was even ready to pop out and say hi.”

  “Max!” I squirmed. “Stop being . . . you!”