by Kimberly Fox
Riley cheers and high-fives the Green Bay fans as the Packers defense stops the Lions on third down. She looks adorable wearing a jersey that one of her new friends must have lent her.
I hate the Detroit Lions, but I feel compelled to do it.
“Go Lions!” I yell as I walk into the bar. The table of Detroit fans cheer and bang on the table as they give me the thumbs up and wave me over.
Riley’s smile fades to a scowl as her eyes follow me through the bar. I high-five a few of the Lions fans as I sit down at their table, which is next to hers.
A bald guy with a Lions logo on his sweaty cheek pours me a beer from his pitcher. Sweat from the Caribbean heat has melted the face-painted lion into a blue mess. I just hope it didn’t drip into the beer.
“Thanks,” I say, clinking my beer mug with his. “Party in my room for all of the Lions fans after!” I say, loud enough for Riley to hear.
I can feel the heat from her eyes burning the back of my head. When I turn around, she’s moving her stool, dragging it beside me.
“You’re not inviting all of these people to our room,” she whispers, her voice racing. “I don’t want them there.”
I grin. “You want me all to yourself, don’t you?”
The table of Packers fans erupts in cheers, and Riley whips her head back around to the large TV. “You made me miss it!” she complains, turning back to me with a glare.
“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to get under her skin. “Your QB will blow it in the last quarter anyway.”
She laughs, sticking her adorable chin in the air. “The only QB that will be choking will be yours.”
I lean in nice and close. “The only person who will be choking will be you. Later. On my cock.”
“You mean more like gagging on your words.”
The table of cheeseheads starts hollering as their wide receiver breaks through the secondary and scores a touchdown.
“Damn it,” I curse under my breath. I can’t stand losing to her for anything, even in a game where I’m not a fan of either team.
“Choke on this,” she says, turning with a wide grin on her luscious lips. She yanks the cheesehead off of her neighbor and slams it onto my head.
“Wooooo!” she screams as she watches her player score on the replay. My table groans as I watch her, cheesehead hat and all, as she stands up on the bar of her stool and gives her new friends high-fives.
“Looks like your party is going to suck,” she says, sitting back down with a grin on her flushed face. “It’s going to be full of losers.”
“Do I look like a loser?” I ask, wishing that the cheesehead hat wasn’t still on my head. “We’re only down by three points.”
A guy at her table reaches over and plucks his cheesehead hat off of my head. I smooth my hair back in place as Riley laughs at me.
“Three points with only forty seconds left,” she says, shaking her head. “Good luck.”
The next few minutes are tense as the Lions offense takes the ball up the field. With five seconds left, the clock is stopped with the ball on the twenty-two-yard line. The Lions are out of timeouts, and their kicker is coming on the field about to try and tie the game.
“Here we go,” I say, leaning forward. Why am I actually nervous? I don’t even like the Lions.
“Look at this guy,” she says, snorting as she points at the kicker. “He couldn’t kick his shoes if they were on his feet.”
I’ve flown fighter jets in combat zones and my heart wasn’t pumping as hard as it is now. I rub my hands down the legs of my pants as the kicker lines up and the whistle blows.
The bar is silent as he steps forward and connects with the ball, trying to kick it through the goalposts.
Riley is holding her breath, staring at the screen with wide unblinking eyes. The balls sails through the air and slams into the goalpost with a loud echoing dong.
Damn it.
Riley and her green and yellow friends explode into cheers as the clock runs out and the Packers win the game.
“That’s what’s going to happen every time you try to compete with me,” she says, staring at me with a smug look on her face. “You’re going to lose.”
She doesn’t know who she’s playing with. I don’t lose.
I’m about to tell her that when I feel a tap on my shoulder. “What room is the party in?” someone behind me asks. It’s the guy with the sweaty man boobs.
“Four nineteen,” I answer, giving him the wrong room.
Riley laughs. “No afterparty?” she whispers, leaning in with a raised eyebrow.
“Not in our room,” I whisper back. I don’t want these strangers hanging out in my room. I’m still planning on having an afterparty, but only one person is invited. I want Riley all to myself.
“Let’s sneak out of here before they follow us,” I say, slipping off my stool.
I casually stroll to the bar and then take a quick turn to the exit. Riley is right on my heels. She’s still wearing the Packers jersey.
“I didn’t peg you for the stealing kind,” I say, glancing down at the green and yellow jersey. The thick numbers swallow her perky tits, but she still looks incredible in it. The color really makes her green eyes pop.
“I didn’t steal it,” she says, thrusting her chin in the air. “It’s mine.”
I do have to say that I’m impressed. I’ve never dated a girl who liked football before. Actually, I’ve never dated anyone long enough to find out.
We walk back to our room, still bickering about the game. I don’t really care. I just enjoy getting her all riled up.
“I figured you’d be a fan of the Redskins with the way your cheeks are always blushing around me,” I say as I open the door.
I hold it open for her, but she’s standing in the hallway, glaring at me with those same cheeks turning red. “And I thought you’d be a Giants fan,” she says, crossing her arms. “Because you’re a giant dick.”
“Come on in,” I say, motioning to the doorway with my head, “and we can talk more about my giant dick.”
Her jaw clenches shut as her arms fall to her sides. “You and your giant dick can sleep out on the balcony,” she says, walking past me with her chin in the air.
My eyes follow her in, dropping down to her ass that’s looking amazing in those tight jean shorts. On second thought, it’s fitting that she’s a Packers fan because she’s definitely packing a hot body under there.
It’s too bad her personality comes along with it.
“What are you doing?” I ask when I walk into the room. She has one of the many pillows in her hands and is opening the glass door of the balcony.
“Getting your bed ready,” she says, tossing the pillow into the hot tub. “Want me to fill it with water for you?”
“Why, so I can drown while sleeping?”
“I didn’t think of that,” she says with a grin on her face as she turns the water on, soaking my pillow. “Well, that’s just a risk we’re going to have to take.”
I pull off my shirt in one quick movement and toss it onto the desk. “You’re the one getting over half a million dollars for this,” I say, kicking off my flip flops. “You sleep outside.”
She storms back into the room, trying to keep her eyes off of my naked torso. “And what are you getting for this?” she asks, glaring at me. “Shits and giggles? You get to have fun tormenting me?”
Exactly. And all of my hard work is working out perfectly.
“So?” she asks, tapping her foot as she waits for my answer. “Why did you agree to this? What’s in it for you?”
I look away with a thickness in my throat. If I do this, Riley gets fired, and Kara will thank me in the best possible way.
That’s what initially brought me on board, but now it’s evolving into something else. I enjoy getting under Riley’s skin, and I’m going to enjoy getting under her clothes even more.
“Not everyone blackmails their boss every time that he needs a favor,” I say, looking into h
er narrowed eyes. “I’m doing this because I’m a good employee, unlike you.”
She snorts out a laugh. “You?” she says, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “A good employee? You were drinking alcohol while flying an airplane! That not only disqualifies you from being a good employee, it disqualifies you from being a good person.”
“Does it disqualify me from getting in your pants?”
She laughs in my face. “The only way you’re getting in my pants is if I chop your little pecker off and stuff it into my pocket.”
I cringe, taking a reflexive step back from her. Her words still make my stomach drop even though I know she’s kidding. Hopefully, she’s kidding. That crazed look in her eyes has me wondering.
“You’re the one who blackmailed Marv,” I say, raising my chin as I stare down at her. “Does that make you a good person?”
“I’m getting money from my boss to do a job,” she says, glaring up at me. “That’s what bosses do. They give their employees money.”
“Especially when they get blackmailed by them.”
She swallows hard as she glares at me. “Oh look,” she says, turning to the open doors on the balcony. “Your bed-slash-bath is ready. I put it on freezing cold so your cold-blooded body can feel right at home.”
I slip off my shorts as she walks out and turns off the water. Her eyes widen and she freezes in the doorway when she sees my tight gray boxer briefs. She subtly shakes her head and looks away, but I can see that she’s breathing faster. Her skin is flushing that adorable pink as she suddenly takes an interest in the hotel pamphlet on the nightstand.
Her eyes dart to me as I walk to the side of the bed and pull back the sheets. “I’m not sleeping outside,” I say, slipping under the covers. “And I’m not sleeping on the floor, or in the bathroom, or in the hallway. I’m sleeping with you.”
I wonder what’s softer, the sheets on the bed or the skin that’s hiding under Riley’s green and yellow jersey? I hope I’m about to find out.
“I’d never sleep with you,” she says, glaring at me with disgust. She yanks one of the pillows off of the bed and stomps to the balcony door. “I’d rather sleep outside than be in your arrogant, cocky, vain, asshole presence for a second longer.”
“You’d rather sleep with the Caribbean insects?” I ask, leaning up on my elbow. She stops at the door but doesn’t turn, listening to me with her eyes trained on the square tiles. I’ve got her now. “Have fun with the giant mosquitoes, stinging hornets, deadly scorpions, snapping fire ants, and nasty spiders.”
“Spiders?” she whispers, cringing as she looks at me.
“Oh yeah,” I say, nodding. “Big hairy ones. They shouldn’t bother you too much,” I say, trying to hide my grin. “They only come out around the time the sun rises. Just tie your hair back in a ponytail because they like to crawl into open hair and lay their eggs.”
She shudders as she slams the door closed.
“Fine,” she says, throwing the pillow back onto the bed.
I give her a triumphant grin as I tap the sheets beside me.
“Spiders are the one thing that’s creepier than you,” she says, stomping across the room toward her luggage. “But not by much.”
I watch her curiously as she grabs her large bulky suitcase and slams it in the middle of the bed. It bounces on the mattress beside me. She’s all flared nostrils and angry grunts as she picks up my suitcase and throws it down behind hers, completing the barrier of cheap luggage. The great wall of made in China.
“That’s better,” she says, huffing out a breath as she storms back to her side of the bed. “No touching.”
“I couldn’t if I tried,” I say, staring at her huge suitcase wall. “You should go work with Donald Trump. He could use your wall building skills.”
The bed bounces slightly as she gets in. My view is blocked by a Samsonite logo.
“If I can use my position to get you deported,” she says, “then I’ll sign up first thing tomorrow morning.”
I shift in the bed, raising my head over the suitcase for a second to see her lying between the sheets. She still has her shorts and jersey on. She’s either a really dedicated fan or she really hates me.
I’m not sure if I want to know the answer to that one.
“Goodnight, wifey,” I say in a singsong voice.
“Don’t call me that,” she says with a shudder in her voice. “You’re going to give me nightmares.”
I smile as I tuck my arm under my pillow and rest my head down. She thinks she’s in a nightmare now. Wait until she meets the prince and has to pretend to be my adoring wife.
I’m going to make her earn every penny of that commission.
Then, she’ll know what a true nightmare is.
Chapter Six
Riley
I groan when I wake up to someone pounding on the outside of the door.
“Go away!” Dex yells to the maids. “Sleeping!”
For once, he says something that I agree with. It’s still dark out.
I turn over, rubbing my eyes, and come face to face with my handy makeshift wall of suitcases. It’s still between us, separating the two sides of the bed like heaven and hell. I’ll let you guess which side has the devil on it.
“Open up,” a muffled voice calls through the door. The voice is a little deep for a maid.
“Shit,” Dex mumbles as he gets out of bed. I peek over the luggage wall like a soldier taking a look over the parapet of a castle to see the enemy. The enemy is in boxer briefs. The enemy is armed with sexy tattoos and a nice ass. The enemy will be the death of me if I’m not careful.
Dex takes a deep breath before opening the door. Marv is there, bursting in like a cannonball. He’s fully dressed and showered, looking way too awake considering the sun isn’t out yet.
Dex turns to me as he yawns. “Did you order a billionaire?”
I sit up in bed, giving Marv a wide smile even though I’m cursing him in my head. “Good morning, Mr. Gladstone,” I say, trying to sound chipper despite my groggy voice. “Up nice and early I see.”
“I’m up at four a.m. every morning,” he says, pounding his chest with a fist. “It’s the billionaire way.”
I’d rather keep my broke ass little bank account and sleep in until noon, but that’s not what I tell him.
“I love getting up before the sunrise,” I lie as I jump out of bed and open the curtains. There’s no sunlight to let in.
“Oh, God,” Dex says, rubbing his eye as he stumbles back to the bed. “I’m the only sane one here.”
He belly flops onto the bed with a sigh as Marv closes the door.
“We have a busy day,” Marv says, charging into the room like a seasoned general. He tilts his head as he looks at the suitcase wall down the middle of the bed but doesn’t say anything about it. “We’re meeting Prince Kalib today.”
“Great,” I say, grinning. The faster I meet the prince, the faster I can charm him into buying sixty yachts, the faster I get my money, the faster I can quit, and the faster I can go to flight school to become a pilot.
“Are we meeting him for breakfast?” Dex asks with his face smushed into the pillow. “Does the prince get up at ungodly hours as well?”
“We’re meeting him for lunch,” Marv says with a smile. “On his private island.”
“Private island?” Dex asks, finally looking awake. “Are we taking the jet?”
“Nope,” Marv says, shaking his head. “There’s no runway. The concierge is getting us a float plane.”
“Are they getting us a responsible pilot as well?” I mumble.
They both turn and narrow their eyes at me. “I mean, what time are we leaving?”
“I want to see both of you in the lobby at nine,” Marv says. He glances at the suitcases on the bed and he takes a deep breath. “Are you two going to be able to play nice?”
“Yes,” we both say, not looking at each other.
“I want happily married couple,” he says, lookin
g from me to Dex like a principal who’s warning two unruly students. “Not an ‘about to get divorced’ married couple, and not an ‘I married him for the money but secretly hate him married couple.’ Can you two pull that off?”
We glance at each other and nod. Dex’s hair is all messy from sleeping, but somehow, he looks even hotter. It’s not fair. My hair is plastered to the sides of my head like I slept in a motorcycle helmet.
“There’s a lot of money on the line,” Marv says, his voice tense and serious. He doesn’t have to remind me about that. There’s six hundred thousand dollars on the line for me, and I’m not about to let some stupid rivalry between me and Captain Fuck Face get in the way of that.
“I won’t let you down,” I say, standing up straight. “You can count on me.”
Marv stares at me for a second and then sighs. “What about you?” he asks Dex. “Can you play nice?”
“I’ll be my regular charming self,” Dex says while scratching his balls over his boxer briefs.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Marv answers with a sigh. He furrows his brow when he sees the hot tub full of water with the pillow floating on the surface. “I don’t want to know.”
“She did it,” Dex says, pointing at me. “She tried to seduce me, but I turned her down. I’m trying to stay professional.”
“You’re the one walking around in your underwear!” I snap back.
“You’re the one who keeps looking,” he answers.
“Stop!” Marv shouts, shutting us both up. “I’m selling sixty yachts today. If I don’t, it’s coming out of your paychecks.”
Dex laughs. “That would take me a hundred lifetimes to pay off with what you pay me.”
“Then act professional,” he snaps. “Otherwise you’ll be flying around the devil in the afterlife to pay your debt.”
“I’m already flying around with the devil,” I say, glaring at Dex. “And I can tell you that it sucks.”
It’s only five a.m. and Marv already looks like he’s in desperate need of a stress ball.
