Chapter 7: Daisy

##Chapter 7: Daisy

Both of our heads swivel. I shade my eyes to see who has dared to break away from the pack. Everyone on the BU football team knows that I'm Noah's cousin and therefore off-limits. Most of the guys treat me like a little sister. Which is fine by me. The last thing I want to do is cause problems between Noah and his friends.

I rack my brain but don't recognize this guy, which means he's probably a freshman or transfer student. Behind my glasses, my eyes are free to wander over his body. And he certainly has a nice one.

He thrusts out his hand toward me. "I don't think we've been introduced yet. I'm Tanner."

I smile and do the same. His fingers close around mine and squeeze. The handshake is firm but not bone crushing. It's the perfect amount of pressure. That makes me wonder what else he can do with his hands.

"I'm Daisy." I nod toward my trusty sidekick. "And this is Olivia."

I press my lips together to mask my amusement when Olivia perks up and thrusts out her chest. Since it's fairly non-existent, it doesn't make much of a difference, but she gets points for trying.

"It's nice to meet both of you." Tanner smiles, revealing gorgeous white teeth. He's handsome in a surfer-boy way.

"Same here," Olivia says, beating me to the punch.

I extract my hand from Tanner's grasp. His eyes are covered by a pair of aviators much like Olivia's, but I can tell that he's checking her out.

How perfect would it be to get these two together?

Olivia needs to get over Noah since I don't think he's planning on dumping Ashley anytime soon. I've told her a ton of times that it's not healthy to pine after someone who doesn't see you in the same light. I'm not trying to be harsh, just honest. After all, this is our senior year, and I'd hate to see her waste it on my clueless cousin.

And Tanner, with his long blond hair, buff bod, and sunny good looks, would be the perfect distraction.

Heck, I'm a little enamored by him myself. He's got that cute-boy vibe going on which I'm a sucker for.

I clear my throat. "So, Tanner, I haven't seen you around. Are you new to BU?"

"Yup." He shifts his body, and his muscles flex in the afternoon sun. "I just transferred in."

Did I mention that he's not wearing a shirt?

I need to do a better job of focusing if I'm going to hook these two up.

"Are you a junior?" I ask. Most people don't transfer in their senior year of college. If he's in his third year, then the age difference is negligible. Anything less is questionable.

"Sophomore," he confirms.

"Ahhh." That makes him nineteen or twenty. "Where did you transfer from?" I ask, trying to keep the conversational ball rolling.

You're welcome, Olivia.

"Cal State."

I almost laugh. Not only does he look like a California boy, he actually is one.

"Really? What a coincidence. Olivia just spent the summer in La Jolla."

He turns to her with more interest. "I love La Jolla. What were you doing there?"

Even though I didn't do much, I'm tempted to pat myself on the back. He's from California. Olivia loves California. Voila. These two are a match made in heaven.

Olivia, who tends to be shy, chatters away about the Scripps Institute of Oceanography where she interned. Tanner nods in all the appropriate places and seems genuinely curious about what she's saying. His body is angled toward her, which is a telltale sign of interest. In a minute or so, I'll create an excuse to leave so they can get to know each other better.

If graphic design doesn't work out for me after college, maybe I should consider a career in matchmaking. I'm that good. Just as long as it doesn't have anything to do with my own love life. Then I'm a disaster.

I grab my glass from the table between the loungers and suck down the rest of my lemonade before rising. The cement burns the soles of my feet before I quickly slide into my sandals.

"Looks like I'm out of lemonade." I jiggle the glass. "I'm going to grab a refill." My gaze bounces between the pair. They look adorable together. "Can I get either of you anything?"

Neither can be bothered to take their eyes off one another as they reply with, "Nope" and "I'm good."

With a huge smile plastered across my face, I maneuver across the crowded patio. Unable to resist, I throw a quick look over my shoulder to make sure Tanner and Olivia are still hitting it off. Yup. They are. Tanner has taken a seat on my lounger. With a sigh, I turn around and promptly slam into a rock-solid body.

That in and of itself isn't much of a clue as to who I've crashed into because this place is crawling with hard male bodies. Somehow, I just know who it is. Call it intuition. Or a feeling of foreboding. As much as I want to be oblivious to Carter Prescott, I'm not.

I stagger back a step, and he immediately reaches out to steady me. His fingers wrap around my arms, singeing my already heated flesh. A jolt of electricity zings through me, making the hair at the nape of my neck prickle with awareness. I clench my jaw and fight my body's natural reaction to him.

When he doesn't immediately release me, I glare. "Is there something I can help you with?" Because I'm irritated with myself for letting him get to me, my words come out sounding churlish.

"Doubtful."

The attraction humming beneath the surface of my skin dissipates in response to his snarky comeback. "Then maybe you should let me go."

His hands drop from my arms. The warmth of his touch instantly cools. Even though he's wearing mirrored sunglasses, I'm cognizant of his perusal. My nipples harden in response. My cheeks heat at the dreaded headlight effect I'm now sporting. It only ups my agitation and makes me snap, "No matter where I go, you always manage to be in my way."

Instead of taking a step back the way I expect him to, he steps closer, invading my space. "Must be a happy coincidence."

"Trust me, there is nothing happy about it," I shoot back.

There is always a hit-and-strike-back quality to our conversations. It's strangely sexual.

I try to keep my gaze focused on his face, but I'm unbearably aware that the only piece of clothing covering him are brightly patterned board shorts that sit low on his waist. The heat of his nearly naked body hits me in heavy, intoxicating waves. My body instantly responds to his maleness despite my dislike for him. As much as I hate for him to feel like he's gotten the best of me, I need to retreat and regroup.

When he doesn't budge, I move around him.

I blow out a sigh of relief as I take two steps away. Somehow, I've managed to hold onto my temper and nip this conversation in the bud before it could spiral out of control. I'm proud of myself for that.

"That suit you're wearing seems-"

At the sound of his voice, I whip around to face him. "My suit seems what?"

"It seems a little too..." He pauses as his eyes coast over me again. "Little."

Acting on instinct, I close the distance separating us. My face is scant inches from his when I come to a stop.

"How dare you!" My first impulse is to cover my body with my hands, but I resist the urge and keep them firmly at my sides because I refuse to let him see that he's made me uncomfortable. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with my bikini. It's perfectly sized."

His eyes linger on my breasts.

I need to walk away before I do him bodily harm.

Would anyone notice if I drown him in the pool?

Only the groupies who have been hanging on him all afternoon.

"Maybe you should consider covering up." He jerks his head toward a bunch of guys in the water who are batting a beach ball back and forth over a net. "They're all checking you out."

I glance in their direction with narrowed eyes and give Carter another glower. "The only one checking me out," I stab a finger into his pec, "is you!"

He snorts. As if he hasn't wounded my pride enough, he finishes the job with, "You're the last girl I would check out."

I gasp. My palm itches to connect with his smug face. If I had anything left in my glass, I'd throw it at him. I suck in a calming breath and slowly release it back out into the world. But I'm still pissed.

"Well, thank you very much for clarifying that for me," I bite out, turning away with what's left of my dignity.

If I don't get away from him, I'm either going to explode all over his dumb ass or burst into tears. And I don't want to do either of those things. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that he has the power to wound me.

It takes every bit of my inner strength to keep my head up as I walk away.

But that's exactly what I do.

Fuck Carter Prescott.

And his asinine comments.