A victorious smile graces Winter’s face. Maybe the first time she’s smiled since we’ve met. Her warm blonde and caramel hair falls across her forehead, so she lifts her arm above her head and threads her fingers through the silky waves. It’s a shame her uptight personality softens my hard-on like a cold shower because I wouldn’t mind discovering what it’s like to unravel her.

“Deal. And you won’t call me Grimm anymore?”

“No dice. No women isn’t a comparable compromise to closet space as it is. I’m certainly not agreeing to an addendum. If you’d like to renegotiate our terms, you’ll have to offer me something else in return. Tit for tat, Grimm.”

Her jaw tics. “What else do you want?”

“To unwrap your salty layers and demolish that chip on your shoulder with an earth-shattering screw…”

Her lips press together, probably to stop herself from drooling. And I’m pretty sure I can see a thin layer of sweat glistening on her forehead.

Then I continue, “If you didn’t annoy the ever-loving fuck out of me,” I finish with a smirk.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yes, I am. We’ll discuss my terms on a later date. I need to take a shit, then run off the copious amounts of alcohol I consumed last night.” I push off the counter, heading toward the hallway to the coffin they call the second bedroom.

Mental note: Talk to someone about amending their description of this suite from two luxuriously spacious rooms to one luxuriously spacious room and shack.

“Do me a solid, Grimm. Kick these two out before I’m out of the bathroom. I’ve exchanged enough unpleasantries for my taste and it’s not even nine in the morning,” I say over my shoulder, then disappear into the hallway to the sound of Winter cursing me under her breath.

A devilish smile warms my face.

Game on, Grimm. Game on.

* * *

“Have a pleasant run, Mr. Fox.”

“Thank you,” I say to the doorman, slipping a fifty-spot into his palm.

Pebbles Resort isn’t quite poppin’ with people yet because it’s midweek. But there’s a wedding this weekend, which means in two days from now this place will be crawling with tourists, anxious wedding guests, and women feeling the heavy weight of aging without having found their forever love like their friend, cousin, or sister has.

I hate weddings. I hate everything about them. I hate love. It’s the biggest lie anyone ever sold. Love is only a romanticized reaction to a surge of chemicals in the brain and the mass majority of the herd bought it hook, line, and sinker.

Which is why when Preston asked me to be his best man, I nearly said no. And honestly, if he were anyone else, I would have. But Preston is the only person on this planet, save for my parents, I care enough about to endure this for. Then he dropped the Winter bomb on me. Babysit the maid of honor while she makes all the decisions regarding the wedding, while his bride-to-be helps him deal with his asshole family.