Betty was … well, she was fucking awesome at volleyball, is what she was. She was tiny, so she couldn’t help with blocking, but she picked up every goddamn ball that came within twenty feet of her. She was blindingly fast and knew where the ball was going to end up before it got there.

“You’re amazing,” Archer said, slack-jawed, after she chased down another shank out the back of the court, safely returning the ball to the other side with a windmill swing.

“Thanks,” she said, panting and brushing sand off her shoulder from her dive. “I played on the state beach volleyball team in high school.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “But then I blew out my ankle, and, once I recovered, I decided to stick with dance.”

“God. We might just win this thing.”

Mateo was pretty good too, which did not surprise Archer much … although, to be honest, he was more focused on Mateo’s rippling muscles under his warm ocher skin.

When those rippling muscles smashed another ball through his block, Archer smiled and offered Mateo five under the net. “Nice spike,” he said.

Mateo smiled and slapped his hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey!” Betty scowled. “No fraternizing. And tighten up that block, Read. Your thumbs should be together.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with a sidelong grin at Mateo and a mock salute for Betty.

They won the first game 25–23 after an argument about whether the ball was in or out. “The beautiful thing about beach,” Betty said, stomping over to the line, “is the ball imprint doesn’t lie. It was clearly out.” She pointed to the mark that was a hair outside the line.

“Fine, if you’re going to be technical about it,” Dominik grumbled.

But Dominik’s team came out swinging for the second game, now knowing what they were up against, and they won 25–21.

“Okay, huddle up,” Betty said, after allowing them a brief water break. “I cannot be Dominik’s bitch tomorrow, I just can’t. So if you’ve ever cared about anything in your entire life before, I need it to be this game. Archer, listen. You can take Mateo. When you jump to block him, I want you to jump like you know you’re going to shut him down. That ball is yours. I need some solid penetration.”

“Penetration…?”

“Archer. Focus, goddamnit. Get your hands on his side of the net, like right in his face. Can you do that?”

“I’ll do my best.”

She glared at him.

“I mean, yes,” Archer amended. “Absolutely. I can do that.”

“That’s what I thought.” She smacked his butt. “Let’s go.”

The next time Mateo went up for a hit, Archer jumped, and with all this might, pushed his hands over the net right into Mateo’s space, thumbs together, telling himself I am blocking this ball.

And he did.