Never Say Never (Haven Harbor #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

A SPECIAL KIND OF TORTURE

D aisy

“You really should have known better,” Briar calls to me from her position on the other side of the net.

I resist the urge to sigh and instead just nod my head. “Yup. Hard to argue that.”

She’s right. I should have known that going on a date with Scott Dickens was a bad idea. I mean, the date wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t all that… good. It was kind of like having a cocktail with the human equivalent of an anaesthetic. Not painful, but also not in any way memorable.

Briar strides toward the net that separates us in her lime green sports bra and white pleated athletic skirt. “So did he try to kiss you?” She pauses before her eyes widen in horror. “Oh god, please tell me he didn’t.”

I watch a shiver pass over her, like kissing Scott is the worst thing she could possibly imagine. Briar can be so dramatic, which is honestly one of the things I love about her. But she doesn’t need to worry this time.

Scott is nice.

He is stuffy and ridiculously boring and very, very nice.

We just have zero chemistry.

I want that spark. That sensation in your belly that flutters to life when your gaze catches theirs. That feeling that makes your pulse race, that leaves you breathless.

I’ve felt that euphoria once.

Stop it, Daisy.

I inhale a long, frustrated breath. With him , there was definitely chemistry, but there was also intense aggravation. He only got my pulse racing because he knew exactly how to get under my skin. He enjoyed it. He still does.

“Earth to Daisy!” I blink back to the present when Briar hollers at me from across the pickleball court. “Did he stick his tongue in your mouth or not?”

“God, no. He is way too much of a gentleman.”

“You mean he didn’t have the balls.”

She’s right about that too. Scott isn’t one of those douchebags who seem hellbent on sleeping with half of the women in Reed Point. Believe me when I tell you I run into my fair share of those guys. Scott is considerate and decent, which is why I agreed to go out with him. He’s a doctor at the clinic I work at, he comes from a good family—he’s the perfect guy to bring home to meet your mom and dad. So, when he asked if he could take me out to dinner, I decided to give him a chance. I had never really felt any attraction between us, but I thought maybe that part could develop if I got to know him outside of work. Halfway through dinner, I realized that Scott wasn’t the guy for me.

The last thing I wanted to do was lead him on, so when he dropped me off at my apartment, I didn’t give him the opportunity to try to kiss me. Instead, I politely thanked him for a nice evening and ducked inside, leaving him standing on my doorstep. I guess I am going to have to break it to him that there won’t be a second date.

“Scott will make someone very happy one day,” I tell Briar, tossing a pickleball in the air and catching it in my palm.

“It’s just not going to be you.” She shrugs one shoulder. “You tried. Got yourself out there.”

For all the good it did me. Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to find my person. I’ve dated a bunch of guys, but I’ve never experienced that fire-in-my-chest feeling with any of them. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

“3-3-1.”

My attention returns to Briar, who announces the score then gets into position to serve the ball into play. We’ve been playing pickleball since college. Anyone who calls this a game for retirees clearly hasn’t played. It’s a serious workout and there’s a trickle of sweat running down my spine to prove it. We rally back and forth until Briar hits the yellow, plastic ball past the sideline. I jog over to grab it, laughing as she groans loudly in frustration, only to find someone else has already retrieved our ball. My gaze slices from black Nike runners up the very familiar lean, muscular body of the six-foot-two former football player who has snagged my pickleball from the asphalt.

Tucker Collins.

My stomach does a weird flip-flop before I will it to stop.

Steel-blue eyes lock on mine. His honey-brown hair is long and messy on top and trimmed short on the sides. I have felt how soft those thick strands are. I will cut my fingers off before I allow them to touch it again.

I hold out a hand for the ball, noticing for the first time that Tucker is not alone. Standing next to him is Holden Banks. Of course. Some things never change. The two of them have been best friends since childhood, and wherever Tucker goes, Holden is probably not too far behind.

Holden flashes an easy-breezy grin as he steals my gaze. “Daisy-Cakes! Perfect! We’re looking to play doubles. You in?” I’ve known Tucker and Holden since we were all kids, hence the silly nickname.

Heat pricks at the back of my neck and then travels down my spine. These two are entirely too handsome for their own good. And they know it. Just about every girl in Reed Point has shamelessly thrown themselves at them at one point or another.

The last thing I need is to be subjected to their hard bodies flexing and straining and covered in a sheen of sweat as they whack a pickleball. No, thank you. I’ll pass on that special kind of torture.

Before I can snap out a response, Briar is at my side.

“Did I hear ‘doubles?’ We’re in!” she tells them with a bright smile. “Let’s split up the teams—no offence, guys, but Daisy and I would kill you two.”

What I want—which is to get as far away from these two as I can—doesn’t seem to matter because all of three seconds later Holden and Briar are headed to the other side of the court. Tucker tosses the ball in the air and catches it again, looking entirely unbothered. In fact, he looks like he’s enjoying this, levelling me with that smirk that I know all too well.

Ugh. Fine, Tuck. You win.

Tucker Collins can be irritatingly charming when he wants to be. I’ve known him my entire life, and I’ve seen him turn that charm on and off more times than I can count.

“So, you didn’t want to lock lips with Dr. Dick?” Tucker’s blue eyes pin mine as his smirk stretches into a wide grin. Great. He overheard my conversation with Briar.

“It’s Dr. Dickens, dumbass. And don’t be mean. Scott is a nice guy.”

One dark brow creeps upward. “A little too nice, then? Didn’t know you had a dark side to you, rebel. Interesting.”

I glare at him. “Can we just play the game without you being an ass?”

“We can. But what fun would that be?”

For the last two and half decades, this is how it’s been between us. Ever since I can remember, Tucker and I have been riling each other up. You would think that growing up as neighbors and practically siblings, we would have eventually figured out a way to get along. Our families do absolutely everything together—vacations and birthday parties, backyard dinners in the summer, ski trips in the winter. Tucker’s mom and dad are my godparents. I’m even named after his mother! Our families are that tight.

Tucker and I, on the other hand…

“How did the doc take it when you turned him down?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you’re going to.”

I can’t help the aggravated sigh that escapes me. Tuck has always been protective of me—overly protective, in my opinion. It’s frustrating. There was a time that I loved the attention from him; I couldn’t get enough. Now I just wish he would learn to stay out of my private life.

“Tucker, I’m pretty sure we’ve been over this before, but who I choose to date is none of your business.”

Why do I let him rile me up like this? It’s not like I have feelings for Tucker. The thought of kissing him makes me nauseous.

Except for that one time. If I let myself, I can still remember the way his lips felt, soft and pillowy against mine. But that is ancient history. A moment, a blip. There’s no way I’d let that happen again.

“You will always be my business, Daisy. We’re family. It’s my job to make sure you’re not dating some douche-canoe.”

If I was annoyed before, now I am livid. It takes effort to unclench my jaw as I glare at him. “For starters, Scott is a doctor. He might be a bit dry, but he is not a ‘douche-canoe.’ Second, you and me... we’re not family.”

Tucker flinches and for a second, I worry that my words have caused him pain. Immediately, a guilty feeling takes hold of me. Tuck is right, as much as I hate to admit it. For all intents and purposes, we are family. His mom and dad are second parents to me. His older sister Addy is the sister I’ve never had.

His gaze holds mine and I can feel my cheeks flush, betraying me. We’re interrupted by the sound of Holden loudly clearing his throat from across the net.

“Ready to get this game going or what, Daisy-Cakes?” I look over to see Holden with his game face on. I nod. I’m ready to get this game and this entire afternoon over with. Pronto.

I take my position and then swing my racket through the air, serving the pickleball as hard as I can. I grip the handle of my paddle as Briar volleys the ball back to our side of the court and then I smack it back across the net with more force than necessary. The ball bounces off the asphalt just inside the sideline, making it impossible for Holden to reach it.

“Sniper,” Holden says with an easy laugh as he retrieves the ball.

Too bad the shot wasn’t aimed at Tucker’s head.