Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

“You made it.” Colter shakes out his wet hair as he gets out of the pool to greet me.

“Barely.” I scan the backyard. It’s huge and filled with people. Way more people than the guys and girls on the team. “I almost turned around when I saw the outside of this place because I was sure I was lost.”

“It’s nice, right?” He turns and looks at it like he’s seeing it for the first time.

Nice? That’s an understatement. It’s a freaking mansion in one of the nicest neighborhoods in Valley. “Yeah, man. It’s incredible.”

“Brooklyn and I are renting it together. Mostly her. She’s staying in the main house, and I’m in the casita over there.” He motions with his head toward a small house over on the right side of the property. “Let’s get you something to drink.”

A few minutes later, I’ve got a beer in hand and Colter is introducing me to Patrick, a young guy just out of high school, who will be coming on the tour to help set up and tear down. He’s excited to talk about last season’s motocross races. He’s a big fan—not necessarily of me, just racing in general. It’d usually be my favorite topic, but when I spot her…everything else becomes a distant buzz.

Avery meets my gaze from across the yard, looking just as surprised to see me as I am her. My shock at her being here is quickly replaced by white hot attraction. She’s wearing the smallest bikini I’ve ever seen, hair in braids that hang over each shoulder. Her body is insane.

“Earth to Holland.” Colter elbows me.

I tear my eyes away from her. “Sorry. What?”

My buddy smiles at me all smug-like. I glare back.

“A little heads-up would have been nice,” I grit out.

“Would you have come?”

He knows damn well I wouldn’t have.

It doesn’t take long for me to come face-to-face with Avery. She and Quinn appear while Colter is telling a story about Oak dislocating his shoulder and then going right back out for another trick not five minutes later.

Quinn nuzzles into Colter’s side, and I open the circle to let Avery join. She smells like coconuts, sunscreen most likely, and warm summer days. Her skin is golden except for a small strip where the strap of her light pink bikini top has shifted, showing her tan line. I didn’t realize how short she was before, but barefoot, the top of her head barely comes up to my shoulder.

She offers a stiff smile and holds herself as far away from me as she can get. It’s enough to distract me from how sexy she is, and I bite back a laugh. She’s all prissy and haughty, and apparently an Olympian. No wonder she was so huffy when I questioned her training methods.

I finish my beer and glance at her empty cup. “Need something to drink?”

She startles like I yelled the words at her instead of politely offering to be her personal bartender. “No thanks.”

“Afraid I’ll poison it?”

“It did cross my mind.”

“Not really my style.”

“Right. You’re more of the in-your-face asshole type.” Her head cocks to one side as she speaks.

Ouch. It stings and brings with it another jolt of surprising attraction to her. I don’t usually like it when people treat me like shit, but she’s just this sexy little thing with this tough exterior. “I guess I deserve that.”

When she doesn’t reply, I ask, “How about a truce?”

She eyes me skeptically with one arched brow. Damn, she’s gorgeous, even when she’s all pissed off. No, especially when she’s pissed off. Her tone is one hundred percent disbelief when she asks, “You want to play nice?”

No, baby. I want to play dirty. Naked and really dirty. “For today anyway.”

She still doesn’t look like she trusts me, which, all things considered, is fair. “Come on. I’ll make you a drink, and you can even watch me pour it.”

She does. And doesn’t even dump it over my head.