Griffin was here to hate these women. Hell, to break them. Kettering had made that clear without saying it in so many words. Grif had no time for reluctant admiration. But the oh-so-hot Miss Tate had guts to challenge him openly like that.

He drawled, “Darlin’, I know I’m more man than you can handle. So, are you gonna take the bet or not?”

“You’re on,” she ground out. “And don’t call me ‘darling.’”

He laughed quietly at her elbow. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Griffin had to give it to Blondie. She ran like a SEAL. Her stride was long and steady and relaxed. But then, the woman was built like a freaking cheetah, all long limbs and lean, slinky body, and she moved with the grace of one. She looked like she could keep up this blistering pace all day long. Her breathing was deep and easy. Nice control she had. Not many amateur athletes had it. Must have had some marathon training.

The three stooges—Kenny, Sam, and Jojo—kept up a running commentary in the back of the formation.

“Nice view out here, man.”

“Trees are skinnier than I expected.”

“That’s not bad in my book.”

“I dunno. I like a bit of trunk on a tree, as long as the bark is smooth.”

Anna finally commented from behind Griffin. “I had no idea SEALs were so dumb.”

Lily jumped in with, “Maybe it’s just the fact that women are so much smarter that makes guys seem dim-witted.”

Kenny broke out in song, belting, “Call me dim, call me dumb, but baby, baby, throw me a crumb. Gimme a hug, gimme a kiss. I promise I’ll make you groan like this.” He then let out a protracted groan that simulated an orgasm.

Anna commented, “Lily, did you hear that? I think a cat just yowled and then barfed up a hair ball.”

Lily’s laughter chimed, and Sherri chuckled beside Griffin.

He smiled to himself. Kenny had walked right into that one. These women weren’t likely to be dazzled by the mere fact of Ken being a good-looking SEAL who could sing and hence be dying to leap into bed with him.

Sam and Jojo had the good sense to fall silent in the back of the formation, at any rate. Both guys were in their early twenties—too young and horny to have figured out how to finesse a woman.

Trevor, on the other hand, had probably been born to charm the ladies. Griffin was convinced it was the upper-crust British accent that did the trick. And for some reason that eluded Griffin, women crawled all over Axel with his tough-guy biker vibe. It had something to do with leather and motorcycles, apparently.