The Danger With Fireworks (Holiday Romance Book 3) by Robin Daniels

Author:Robin Daniels [Daniels, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bluefields
Published: 2020-06-25T18:00:00+00:00

“Someone’s crabby this morning,” Matt taunted me as I stood at the coffee station, pouring a third packet of sugar into my cup. I didn’t love coffee, but I didn’t fall asleep until after two. It’d be a long day without it.

“I’m not crabby. I have a headache.”

His eyes darted between my hands and face as I discarded the empty packet and reached for a fourth. “The caffeine might help, but all that sugar won’t.”

“You’re right.” I sighed and put the sugar back. I added some cream and grabbed a stirring straw, then walked toward the front porch.

“Aren’t you coming to the table?”

“No, I have some stuff to do.”

He looked confused. Normally food was my number-one priority in the morning, but, minus the coffee, I was walking out empty-handed. “What kind of stuff?”

“Just stuff. I’ll see you at lunch.”

I was in a better mood by noon. I’d run an improv workshop that morning, and Derek was in the class. He was hardcore flirting with a girl that wasn’t Alyssa. So when it was his turn, I assigned him and this plain, skinny chick named Amber to improvise a scene where they got caught kissing at the make-out bush. He turned ten shades of red. Amber wasn’t the girl Derek had just been hitting on, either. That was intentional. She was obviously thrilled about the pairing. Derek, not so much.

I’d have a chat with him later about how to treat women. But until then, I felt like I’d won another round for the underdogs. And that victory put me back on track for accomplishing my summer goal. It’d be a little harder now since I couldn’t use my relationship with Chloe to make Clint jealous. But I’d find a way to teach him a lesson.

As I stood on the porch at the lodge, I debated whether to go in. I still didn’t want to face my family, but I wouldn’t be able to skip two meals without raising suspicion. Or dying of hunger. Finally, I got in line, grabbed five pieces of pizza, and dropped on the bench next to Marissa. She glanced at her single slice, then over at my plate and said, “I still hate you. Maybe even more now.”

“Why don’t you live a little?” I asked while stuffing a huge bite in my face.

“Because I’m not a human trash compactor, and pizza is my weakness. Four slices of heaven now will equal four hours of hell later when I have to work it off.”

“Why are you so worried about what you eat? You look great.”

The compliment caught her off guard. “Thanks,” she said modestly. “But my coach will know if I put too much junk in my body while I’m here. He’s got some kind of crazy sixth sense. If I come back to school all sluggish, he’ll make an example out of me.”

“You play college sports?” I asked, a little shocked.

“Yep. Soccer.” She took a bite of an apple and studied me. “Why do you sound so surprised? Is it the eyebrow bar? That always trips people up.

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