“Yep! I’m gonna beat you this time!”
“Uh-uh.” She shakes her head. “You never win.”
I walk through the water to the other side, placing the net in the holder in the middle of the pool. “Maybe today is my lucky day.”
Today isn’t my lucky day, they win, and it’s not even like I didn’t try, because I did.
“You cheated!” I exclaim when they score the last point that wins them the game.
“Someone is a sore loser.”
I startle at the deep voice, spinning around and squeaking.
“Daddy!” Izzie paddles over to the shallow end of the pool before taking the couple of steps and rushing around to where Tristan stands at the edge with his hands in the pants of his navy-blue suit pockets.
“Hey, pumpkin.” He reaches for her, picking her up and not caring that he’s going to have a wet patch in the shape of her body. “I see you beat Amelia again.”
“We did,” she says, nodding her head up and down before lowering her voice. “She’s not very good at sports and stuff.”
“Hey!” I wrinkle my nose at her as I undo the net and move closer to them to put it away.
“She’s right,” Clay murmurs as he swims over to help me. “You’re not.”
“Psshhh, how do you know I didn’t let you win, huh?”
Clay’s gray eyes clash with mine as he raises a brow. “There’s no way you can pretend to be that bad.”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish as he finishes putting the net away.
“Gonna catch flies there, A.” Tristan’s laugh has my back straightening. All three pairs of eyes are on me now, watching to see what I’ll do.
They’re right, I didn’t let them win, and okay, maybe I am a sore loser.
“Whatever,” I scoff, walking out of the pool and wrapping a towel around my body before handing one to Tristan for Izzie. “You can’t beat me at Scrabble.” I smirk, knowing the only person who could give me a run for my money is Clay.
Clay picks his towel up off the
sun lounger. “We could play? That way I can show you I can beat you.”
“You’re on!” I point, spinning around. “Let me grab a shower and get changed and I’ll meet you in the main room.”
“So competitive,” Tristan says, shaking his head.
I shrug, not caring. I love to win, what’s the problem with that? “Whatever, Mr. CEO.”
He chuckles, lifting Izzie off his hip and placing her down. “You two go and get changed and I’ll order takeout.”
“Pizza?” they both ask in unison.
“Yep.”
They walk off, already arguing about who’s going to get the first slice from the box, their voices slowly disappearing as they enter the house.
“Go on then,” Tristan commands. “Go get changed, we’ll meet you back in the house.”
I stare up at him running his hand through his hair, not being able to stop thinking back to the conversation I had with Nate.
“You didn’t know him before everything.”