Page 59 of One Steamy Pucking Meet Cute

I give the number of visible scars on his arms, face, and legs a once over. He brushes me off. “Flesh wounds,” he says.

“Alright, Superman. Let’s do this.”

Paisley gives the signal that it’s time for me to look. I turn around and try to memorize the location of all the obstacles. It’s harder than I thought it would be, and my ten seconds feel like they’re over in two. I turn around, already feeling the visual I had of the course jumbling up in my brain. Oh, no.

“They’re all over the place,” I say as I’m blindfolded, along with Jake, who didn’t get to look at the course.

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I can remember it all. Just kinda start right and then go left a little after that, I guess?”

“I got this.”

“Go!” Paisley shouts.

My brain goes blank, and panic fills me at the sound of Jake’s huge body taking off at full speed. I can feel the ground shake and hear the rapid thumping of his shoes on the grass.

“Watch out for the first one!” I shout unhelpfully.

I hear an ooh from the crowd and the sound of Jake grunting and falling. He’s back up again, though, feet pounding.

I give up any hope of navigating and lift my blindfold to watch.

Paisley points. “Navigator has her blindfold off! If she speaks now, the team is disqualified!”

Jake is hauling ass. Obstacles occasionally trip him up or send him rolling, but he gets back to his feet with impressive speed and keeps a sense of which way is forward. After tripping a few times, he’s got a clear patch of grass ahead with nothing but the finish line and the icy harbor ahead.

Oh, no.

Jake doesn’t slow down. In fact, he’s picking up speed.

I put my hands over my mouth to stop from shouting out and warning him. I don’t want to get us disqualified.

Jake crosses the finish line and then takes two long strides before he’s shin-deep in the harbor. He loses his balance, his arms pinwheeling as he flies forward, his fists clenched, and his body straight like an arrow.

He really does look like Superman.

He lands with a huge splash.

I run over to help him, but he’s already getting out, clothes clinging to his v-shaped torso and thickly muscled legs as he pulls himself from the water. He flicks his hair back, pulling up the blindfold with a triumphant smile. “How was my time?”

I laugh. “Pretty sure we won. Resoundingly.”

“Hell yeah.” Jake fist-bumps me. “You’re a terrible navigator, by the way.”

25

JAKE

The week of wedding games ends today, and we’re neck and neck with Jesse and Andi. Of course, my sister and her husband had to be the ones trying to steal the win from us. We’re all positioned in the harbor, shoved into little row boats with our partners. I’m in the back, and Caroline is in front of me. She’s got on a sweater and has her hair pulled up in a ponytail.

She looks back at me over her shoulder, the setting sun flashing on her green-rimmed classes. “Those muscles aren’t just for show, right?”

“I rowed in college for a while,” I say. “Jesse tried it and hated it. They’re screwed.”

“Good. Because my idea of cardio is when I have to walk up the stairs at the B&B. If this involves much more exercise than that? Well, you’re on your own.”

“I got this,” I say, eyes focused on the far end of the harbor. “It’s maybe 2,000 meters. In college, I could’ve crushed this in about six minutes.”

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