Ready or Not by Melissa Brayden Page A

fact,” she said, downing the rest of the shot of rum she still carried, “I find you annoying. And I find the smile annoying. That’s two annoying things about you already.” She covered her mouth in a mixture of shock and regret at the words that had just fled from her mouth without permission.
    Hope shook her head slowly. “There you go again.”
    “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that comes from. I was brought up with manners, I promise. I’m generally much nicer. But with you, things just fly out of my mouth like it has a mind of its own.”
    Hope held up her hands, palms out. “It’s okay. Listen, you don’t have to like me. In fact, it’s pretty obvious to me that you don’t. No rule that everyone has to get along. Plus, I’m not sure I like you either.”
    Mallory stared at her. “I’m sorry?”
    Hope turned to her and raised a shoulder. “I said, I’m not sure I like you. You’re kind of a snob.”
    “I am not a snob,” Mallory said, outraged at the characterization and yet strangely fixating on Hope’s very full bottom lip. A strange combination of feelings. Must have been the rum.
    “Well, you are a snob. Objectively,” Hope said. “You wrote me off because I tend bar and somehow acted like that made me lesser. It was kind of offensive. We can’t all be from Park Avenue.” But Hope didn’t look offended. That was the thing. Mallory couldn’t help but catch how she did look, however. Her light-blond hair was down, and the wind caught it every few seconds and gave it a sexy little tousle. It was dark on the beach, but every so often the moonlight would illuminate those big blue eyes, the ones that were expressive and yet closed off at the same time. Was that possible? She wasn’t sure. What Hope looked was hot, which was contrary to what Mallory wanted to conclude. So she pushed the thought aside and focused on making amends for her behavior in order to get back to her guests where she should be. It would be rude of her to disappear for too long.
    Mallory ran her fingers through her hair and decided to try again. “But you’re not just a bartender. You’re a small-business owner. I know that now.”
    “See?” Hope said, pointing. “There it is again. That was kind of a pretentious comment, you have to admit. Bartending is a perfectly valid profession. And it’s ridiculously hard. Not too many people are good at it.”
    Mallory rewound the sentence. “Okay, so on review that didn’t sound great, but I’m not a snob. And I get that bartending is complicated.”
    “I think it’s okay to own it,” Hope said, nodding. “The snob thing.”
    “Well, I don’t.”
    “So it bothers you that you’re a snob?”
    “Yes. I mean, no. Because I’m not.” Damn it .
    Hope nodded and the side of her mouth pulled up in amusement. “Yeah, that made total sense.” But the mouth thing, that just infuriated Mallory further.
    “Maybe you’re the one who’s a snob,” Mallory shot back. “Have you ever thought of that? Because you’re being kind of judgmental right now yourself and looking very smug in the process.”
    Hope smiled full-on then and took a step closer to Mallory, who noticed distantly that the cold water was now running across the tops of their feet. “You’re kind of gorgeous when you get all angry like that. Have you heard that before?”
    Mallory swallowed. Caught off guard by the comment, she had no idea what to say. And Hope was noticeably close and, all right, she could admit it, still ridiculously good-looking. Who was she kidding? “I am not.”
    “Mmm-hmm,” Hope said. “Except you are.” And before Mallory knew what hit her, Hope’s hands were on her dress, holding her firmly at her waist, and her mouth crushed against Mallory’s. And oh, dear lord, and baby Jesus and some saints all combined into some kind of miraculous combo platter! There had been no delay, no working up to it, no soft, light touches. Hope had stepped in and taken what she