Dare Me Again

by Alexander, Shelly

  Rebel had paid her dues in life. Paid enough dues for the entire population of North America. She couldn’t deal with the hurt anymore. No matter how deserving it might be.

  Hell. Elliott and Lily stood at the bottom of the staircase looking up.

  Her eyes grew round. “Was that . . . ?” She pointed up the stairs.

  Without a word, he nodded. Let his head fall forward in defeat as the sound of Rebel’s retreating footsteps faded.

  “Well, now I need to do even more damage control than usual.” Lily excelled at putting out fires and defusing difficult situations. Everyone walked away happy when Lily was on duty.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’ll put out this fire. I’m the one who started this conversation right here in the open instead of insisting we go to my office.” He would not send Lily to do his dirty work.

  “Maybe it wasn’t Rebel.” Lily’s tone turned hopeful. “Maybe it was a guest.”

  “It was her.” He’d only been able to see the shoes, but there was no question it was Rebel. Because try as he might to pretend she had no effect on him, he remembered every detail of her hair and the way her wispy red locks caressed her cheeks. Remembered every detail of the way her practical clothes showed off her exquisite body, all the way down to her all-weather boots.

  How could he not remember every detail?

  She was a knockout. The kind of woman who made a guy take notice. Made a guy look twice. Made a guy afraid to stand up in a crowded room until he thought of something really disgusting like the saggy old men who wore Speedos at the beach during the summer.

  Elliott shivered in disgust as his pants grew looser around the middle again.

  Whew.

  Worked every time.

  “We can’t afford to lose Ms. Tate,” Lily said.

  “Which is why I’m stepping aside.” Mostly. No one needed to know how the old feelings already churning in his stomach scared the living shit out of him. “If I stay involved in the camp, there’s a good chance something will go wrong. We’re better off trying to get the sponsor to see why this is the best way, and I’ll focus on coming up with a backup plan in case we lose the event.”

  “I’ll go talk to her.” Lily tried to sidestep him to reach the stairs.

  Elliott held up his hand. “Just try to find someone to replace me right away. In the meantime, I’ll make things right with Rebel.” He wasn’t sure how, but he could start with bringing her a peace offering. One of Charley’s gourmet doughnuts or pastries could go a long way toward pacifying just about anyone.

  He left Lily, passed the hostess working at the entrance of the dining room, and walked toward the kitchen. The dinner hour was winding down, and only two tables were still occupied, with one server waiting on both sets of guests.

  Elliott pushed through the double doors and let them swing shut in his wake. “Hey.” Charley and her business partner, Briley, were putting away the extra food.

  Briley waved and disappeared into the pantry.

  A kid who looked barely old enough to have a job washed dishes in the industrial sinks on the opposite side of the large kitchen. The island’s sudden resurgence of tourism had created more jobs than the local population could fill, but the kids who lived on the island year-round loved the selection of new employment opportunities because they no longer had to take the ferry to the Cape every day for an after-school or summer job.

  Elliott shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels.

  Charley stopped and stared him down like she figured he wanted something.

  His cousin knew him so well.

  “I screwed up with the dog whisperer who’s here for the camp.” He cut right to the chase.

  “Of course you did.” Charley went back to sealing a large pan of lasagna with plastic wrap. “And you want me to help you fix it.”

  Okay, she knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

  “You could turn loose of one of your precious doughnuts and a cup of coffee,” Elliott said. “I’ll deliver it to her room when I apologize for being a jerk.”

  Charley came from a coffee magnate family in Seattle, so her coffee was almost as legendary as her pastries, and she was pretty stingy with her baked goods. Probably because the Remington brothers would eat all her profits and bankrupt her if she let them. Whoever said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was pretty damn clever.

  “Wouldn’t you rather bring her a hot meal?” Charley got a plate from the cupboard, peeled back the plastic wrap, and dished up a nice serving of lasagna. “Rebel hasn’t made it to the dining room for dinner since she’s been here, so unless she’s got a stash of food in her room, she probably hasn’t eaten.”

  Huh. She’d said she was starving.

  “So you already know who the dog whisperer is.” Elliott sank onto a barstool at the counter across from Charley’s work space.

  She nodded. “Spence stopped in earlier.” She added a breadstick to the plate. “So how uncomfortable is it seeing Rebel again?”

  “On a scale of one to ten?” He braced both elbows against the stainless-steel counter. “At least a twenty-five, and that’s probably a conservative estimate.”

  Charley added a helping of salad and poured Italian dressing over it. “Are you sure you want to fix things with her?” When they were growing up, Charley was the only person with a mean enough punch to send the Remington brothers running for cover, but she was fiercely protective of them too. She covered it with a metal lid, put it on the tray, and prepared a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge.

  He shrugged. “The camp is worth saving, so yeah, I need to try to smooth things over.” If that was possible. Not trusting Rebel was one thing. Being an asshole about it was another. Yet, continuing to work with her seemed like a train wreck waiting to happen. Dammit. Now that he thought about it, he was screwed either way. “Come on.” Elliott tried to sound desperate. “Throw in a doughnut just in case she’s really pissed.”

  Charley gave him an exaggerated eye roll, but then she plated a doughnut. She pushed the tray across the counter. “Don’t eat it before you get to her room.” She wiped her hands on a towel and went back to storing the leftover food. “The rest is up to your charming disposition.”

  “Thanks, Cuz.” Elliott picked up the tray and headed for the door.

  “You owe me,” Charley called after him. “I’m keeping track too.”

  Elliott made his way up the stairs, rehearsing what he was going to say to Rebel. How he was going to explain that he wasn’t cut out for the camp, how she’d be better off working with someone else.

  How it’d been torture working with her for one day. No way could he keep himself in check for an entire month.

  He reached the landing at the top of the stairs.

  Nah. He’d leave the last part out. And the part about having to constantly think of old, wrinkly, half-naked guys to get her out of his head.

  When he got to her door, he stood there staring at the number, trying to get up the nerve to knock.

  A whine came from the other side.

  Rebel’s muffled voice gave the dog a command, and then she must’ve looked through the peephole because a few seconds later, the deadbolt turned and the door swung open.

  Their gazes locked, and Elliott could swear time stopped. She’d changed into black spandex leggings and a microfiber tank top that showed every dip and curve of her incredible body. Her hair was clipped up into a messy pile with wavy tendrils framing her face and brushing the creamy skin of her neck.

  “Uh . . .” His voice turned to gravel.

  Nice.

  There went that charm he was so famous for.

  The dog trotted into the hall and leaned into Elliott.

  The dishes on the tray rattled as the weight against his leg jostled his balance. Jesus. He widened his stance to keep his peace offering from clattering to the floor.

  Rebel didn’t try to help. Instead, she crossed he
r arms and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe.

  “What can I do to get your dog to like me a little less?” Not words he ever thought he’d hear himself say.

  She ignored the remark. “Is that food?”

  Oh. Right. “Charley hasn’t seen you in the restaurant, so I brought dinner to you.”

  Rebel studied him through narrowed eyes. Finally, she pushed off the doorframe and reached for the tray.

  He moved it out of reach. “It’s heavy. I’ll get it.” He wasn’t giving her the chance to shut the door in his face before they talked. He wasn’t sure yet what to say to make things better, but if the food and doughnut didn’t work, he wasn’t above groveling.

  How was it that he was the one willing to grovel when she’d been the one to skip out on their relationship? Seemed ass-backward to him, but the camp was already at risk with him stepping aside. Losing Rebel would seal its fate, so he’d take one for the Remington team and just deal.

  “Some of the animals I work with are eighty pounds or more. I can handle a tray of food.” She didn’t budge.

  He tilted his head. “I can take this back to the kitchen if you don’t want it.” He wasn’t above bribery either.

  Her eyes darted between him and the tray, then back again.

  When Buddy returned to her side, Elliott knew he’d won the throw down.

  She turned to the side and held the door open with her back to it.

  He angled his body to ease into the room, his backside brushing against her front.

  Old wrinkly guys, old wrinkly guys . . .

  He hurried to the table in front of the sliding glass doors and bent to set down the tray. The door shut behind him, and he turned to find Rebel standing at the end of the bed. Staring at his crotch. Which meant she’d been checking out his ass.

  He couldn’t stop a smile. Not that he cared what she thought of him personally, physically, or any other way. But shaking her resolve might help him with damage control.

  When she lifted her gaze to his, he let his smile widen.

  Her face went up in flames, matching the color of her silky hair.

  “You were starving in the garage, so here you go.”

  “I had an extra tube of toothpaste.” She shifted from one bare foot to the other. “It was cinnamon flavored and filled me up in a pinch.”

  He blinked.

  “I’m joking.”

  Humor. Right. His mind wasn’t firing on all cylinders. It wasn’t because of the way her hair was just messy enough to look like she’d been in bed. It wasn’t because her bare feet revealed a toe ring and purple-painted toenails. It wasn’t. He was just tired because he’d been working multiple jobs around the resort, taking up the slack everywhere he could because the rest of the family seemed to have a real purpose. A real direction. Everyone besides him, which was why he needed to salvage the camp and come up with fallback ideas to give the resort a cushion of income, so he could return to his firm in the city where he belonged.

  “Thanks.” She leaned a thigh against the end of the bed. “I am hungry, but after I unpacked, I needed to feed . . .” She chewed the corner of her mouth. “I needed to feed Buddy. Then I went in search of a vending machine, since it was almost closing time at the restaurant, but . . .”

  Her plump bottom lip disappeared between her pearly whites, and it took every ounce of self-control Elliott could muster not to lick his lips.

  “But you overheard me being a dick,” he deadpanned.

  She didn’t miss a beat. “You said it, not me.” She went to the tray, occupied one of the two chairs around the small table, and removed the lid. Leaning over the plate, she inhaled. “This smells incredible.” She inhaled again. Her eyes slid shut, and she moaned.

  Old wrinkly guys in Speedos!

  Elliott quickly claimed the other chair, sitting with his arms over his lap so he could salvage some dignity. “Listen, about me being a dick . . .”

  With the lid in her hand, she waited for him to finish.

  “The camp is better off without me.” He bounced a leg.

  Slowly, she replaced the lid.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer. “After you explain why the camp is better off without you.”

  “I don’t have the disposition for it. I’m not exactly a nurturing person.”

  “That’s not true. You can be very nurturing when you want to be.” Her big hazel eyes coasted over his face. “You were very”—she glanced away—“devoted and protective once.”

  And you still dumped me.

  “Has that changed?”

  Hell yes. His leg bounced faster, so he crossed them at the ankles. “Ten years is a long time. A lot has changed.”

  Rebel’s dog sat equidistant between them, but he moved to Elliott’s side.

  “Well, if that’s your final decision . . .” She let her disapproval hang in the air.

  “It is.” He nodded.

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Then I guess we’re done here.”

  He decided to mimic her blasé attitude and didn’t respond.

  She lifted a brow. “Aren’t you going to leave?” She mimicked him right back.

  Guess she could still give as good as she got.

  So could he. “After you explain why you’re not eating when you’re so hungry.”

  She stared at him.

  He didn’t budge.

  With measured, mechanical movements, she removed the lid and forked up a tiny piece of lasagna. Her hand trembled ever so slightly, bumping the side of her lush mouth and leaving a dot of sauce there. Then the fork found her mouth.

  Holy shit, that mouth. It cast a spell over him as he watched it close around the fork. When she pursed her lips and chewed, he wanted to groan.

  She swallowed and slowly wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin, missing a tiny speck of sauce at the corner.

  He ran his hands down his thighs, letting the coarse denim fabric dry his damp palms. “I’m out as soon as Lily finds someone to take my place.”

  “But their last name won’t be Remington, which might be a problem for the sponsor.” She twisted the napkin.

  “True, but Lily has a way of fixing things. The sponsor won’t stand a chance.” He smiled.

  Rebel didn’t.

  Slowly, she set the spiraled napkin on the tray. “I came a long way for this boot camp, and I did so in good faith.”

  “Except for the part where you didn’t unpack last night because you were considering skipping out?” he smarted off.

  Her lips thinned. “If you want to risk blowing this opportunity for both of us, I can’t stop you.” She pushed out of her chair.

  Elliott followed. “It’s not personal.”

  Her eyes flashed, and that fiery personality he knew and loved showed in the way she lifted her chin to stare up at him. “I may not have the college education you have, but I’m smart enough to know that it’s very personal. I’m perfectly capable of managing the camp on my own. A replacement isn’t necessary, and the sponsor won’t know the difference. If I need anything, I’ll ask one of your employees, so you won’t have to be around me.” She held up both hands. “See? Simple solution. You’re off the hook because I don’t need your help.”

  His chest tightened. Why did it feel like she was digging out his heart with a spoon all over again?

  He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he stepped around the dog and closed the distance between him and Rebel. She tried to take a step back but came up against the chair. Her eyes widened when he dipped his head so that his face was a fraction from hers.

  Her rapid-fire breaths washed over his jaw.

  “I’m well aware that you don’t need me. You made that painfully clear a long time ago.” With the pad of his thumb, he touched the corner of her lush mouth.

  When her lips parted, it was nearly his undoing.

  Her long, glossy eyelashes fluttered down in a slow blink to brush the velvety skin under her eye
s. When she opened them again, a storm raged there, and she leaned toward him just enough for him to know she expected him to kiss her.

  At that moment, he didn’t want to only meet her expectations. He wanted to surpass them, but he’d have to be out of his mind.

  He gathered every bit of willpower he possessed and then some and swiped at the corner of her mouth like a parent would a child. “You had sauce . . .” He held up his thumb. Resisted the urge to put it in his mouth.

  Or even better, her mouth.

  Dammit. Not better. Much, much worse.

  Without breaking eye contact, she tugged the napkin from the tray and held it up between two fingers. “That’s what napkins are for.” She wiped her mouth with controlled movements to make her point. But the way the soft skin just above her V-neck tank rose and fell in rapid-fire succession told him she wasn’t as composed on the inside as she wanted him to believe.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped away.

  With a hand on the edge of the table, she steadied herself like his sudden movement set her off-balance.

  “Lily will find a replacement because we’re not keeping the truth from the sponsor while I disappear into the shadows. That might be how you roll, but I don’t work that way.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, he strode to the door and got the hell out of there before he did something he’d regret.

  Something that would open him up to another decade of regret.

  Chapter Five

  #ITSATHANG

  As soon as the first blush of dawn cascaded through the crack in Rebel’s curtains, she was up and at ’em. She pulled on athletic clothes.

  After two more days of working nonstop, she and Elliott had everything ready for the dogs, who were arriving the next day. The sponsor was smart to deliver them and their handlers a few days before the veterans so the dogs could get acclimated to their new surroundings. The garage was ready with stations for each dog and their companions, and an obstacle course was arranged in the center of the garage. Each guest room reserved for the camp was equipped with supplies so the dogs could stay with their handlers and then their companions once they were matched.