Hot Pickle

My pickle is in a pickle. And it has nothing to do with my family deli. My first bodybuilding competition is in less than an hour. My fake tan looks like someone hosed me in orange juice.

But a tiny goddess in spandex arrives with her brushes and tanning wand. She's funny. She's sexy. I could spend all day with her hands on my hard body.

But there are two problems.

1. When she touches me, a particular part of my anatomy springs to life. In public. In the smallest competition trunks you can imagine. And . . . I'm about to go out on stage.

2. Camryn is my best friend's sister. The last man who looked at her got his face bashed in. If I go anywhere near her, he's made perfectly clear that he will kill me.

But you might as well carve my tombstone. Because the more we see each other, the more we know we can't fight this thing.

And despite my best friend's threats, when I'm naked in Camryn's tanning tent, there's no way this Pickle is going to get anything but hot.