Wade jogged up the steps to the dance studio. He was eager to see Honey today.

He’d done a lot of thinking last night after leaving her cabin.

“Hey, Wade,” a female voice called to him from out on the lawn.

He turned, shading his eyes with his hand.

“Hi, Lynn,” he called back to the little brunette lifeguard.

She winked and kept walking toward the pool.

Lynn was hot, a lot of the staff were. So if his experiment today didn’t go as planned, he was in no danger of a dry spell. On the contrary, the ladies’ junior staff cabin would be abuzz in excitement tonight if Wade decided to drop his interest in Honey McCarthy.

He had himself good and convinced when he stepped into the studio.

But he had forgotten, as usual, the power the trashy little blonde had over him when she danced.

Honey was in the center of the pine floor wearing a simple leotard. No music was playing. But she was spinning and kicking and flinging herself around like a pair of jeans in a washing machine.

Wade licked the sweat off his upper lip as he watched her breasts heaving, her ass quivering. Jesus.

She must have caught sight of him in the mirror because suddenly she made a little sound of surprise and stopped moving.

“Wade,” she gasped, catching her breath. “You startled me.”

He shrugged. It wasn’t his problem if she was startled.

“Look, we need to talk,” he said.

She grabbed a towel and flung it around her neck, then crossed over to him. “What’s wrong?”

So she was worried. Good, she should be worried.

“I know you wanted me to dance with you for the demonstration,” he said. “But we’re not together anymore and I’m really not into it. You understand, of course.”

He paused and watched her harder than he’d watched the overtime of last night’s game.

Only one thing was important to Honey.

And it wasn’t Wade Travers.

This was Wade’s diabolical plan to correct that.

She would beg him to dance with her. She would agree to be his girlfriend.

“What do you mean?” She looked horrified.

“I mean that if you really don’t want to date me, I get it,” he went on. “But you can understand how other girls I date might not like for me to spend so much time dancing with you.”

“Are you dating other girls?”

Oh-ho, now she was paying attention.

It took all he had not to grin like a fool, but he knew he had to play it cool for this to work.

“Honey,” he said, trying to sound sympathetic and mature, like Mr. Rogers, “I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to discuss that anymore. As you know, I have feelings for you. But since you don’t return them, I have to move on.”

She was silent.

“Unless I’m wrong about that?” He held his breath.

Now was his moment. He’d turned the tables on her. He’d made her jealous, taken away her little prize.

Now she would crawl.

Wade had identified four different positions to fuck her in, right in front of the mirrors, before she replied.

“Wade,” she said sadly, “you’re right. I’m sorry it’s been hard for you to spend time with me when I don’t share your feelings. I’ll find another partner.”

“Wh-what?” he heard himself stammer.

“You’re right,” she said. “I should have thought of it sooner so I could find someone else to dance with me. I know I might lose my job if I can’t pull this off, but I don’t blame you, you were honest with me. Thank you for coming to tell me.”

He was so thunderstruck that he didn’t even notice that she was walking him to the door, sending him back out into the blinding sunshine.

The door closed quietly behind him by the time the truth hit home.

He had bet wrong on Honey.

And now he had lost the last of his tenuous hold on her.

Spread out on the lawn below him, the guests and staff of Maxwell’s laughed and played as usual, unaware of the awful thing that had just happened to their crown prince.

Wade ran a hand through his golden hair and began to think up a Plan B - damage control.

He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and shot off a text to the male senior staff:

Wade Travers to GROUP:

No one is to partner Honey McCarthy for the session demonstration.

There.

If he couldn’t have her, no one would.

She could come crawling back, or she could get fired.

Either way, Wade Travers won - he always did.