Page 10 of Recklessly in Love

I take a deep drink. It’s just cocoa. But I’m cold, and it tastes good, so I don’t complain. “There better be.” I watch as the latest group starts to hit the jump ropes. “Aren’t Nate and Greg going to do this? That might be fun to watch. Especially if they did it shirtless.” The thought perks me up, and I smile into my mug.

“I’m sure they’ve already done it to test everything, but Nate said it wouldn’t be fair if they competed,” she replies with a shrug.

I let out a shriek of laughter as the first competitor of the bunch — a much older man — trips the second guy, who is half his age, to get into the tires first. But Nate is right. I haven’t seen a single participant who could compete with either him or Greg.

It’s not long before the old man is barreling toward me, and Mia takes that as her cue to leave. I try to pay more attention to the race than my cocoa. It’s tough. The cocoa is much more interesting, even without the booze.

* * *

What feels like a lifetime later, the older man is crowned the overall winner — since all the dirty tricks he pulled to get there somehow weren’t against the rules — and is awarded his gift basket, which was no doubt put together by Mia or Rae as it’s stuffed with bottled cider, baked goodies, and what appear to be a few gift certificates. Once that’s done, the crowd starts to disperse.

Greg starts to head toward Nate, but Nate shouts something, and Greg returns to the starting line. Nate jogs toward me until he’s close enough to shout, “We’re racing.”

I throw up my hands in a gesture of “whatever.” And I may be cold and tired, but I’m lying; I’m not “whatever” about watching these two go at it. I glance guiltily back toward the community center behind me, wondering if I’m betraying Mia by even thinking of ogling her fiancé. But fuck that. I’ve earned a little show after two-plus hours out here.

As they start, I only wish they were closer. Because while I can see them pulling the sleds, I’m not close enough to see any muscles rippling. It’s a travesty. But the jump roping, I can see. Except that they’re both so fucking good at it that it’s over in seconds. And then they’re playfully shoving each other as they jockey for position ahead of the tires. Nate wins by sheer bulk and goes barreling through them, with Greg not far behind. But Nate’s bulk works against him as Greg emerges from the tires, hot on his heels and much lighter and faster across the snow. While it took the fastest of the earlier competitors a good thirty seconds to cross the distance, I have less than half that before I realize Greg is about to run right into me.

I step out of the way just in time to yell angrily at his passing back, “Watch where you’re going!”

He slows to a jog as Nate streaks by me, then slows with him. Laughing, he pats Nate on the back. “Good try, old man.”

Nate shakes his head. “At least I can still outlift you.” Nate removes the snowshoes and hands them to Greg before heading toward the community center.

I make to follow, but Greg catches my arm.

“Nuh-uh,” he protests, still breathing heavily and holding the snowshoes up. “Let’s see what you’ve got, city girl.”

“Oh please, those would never fit me,” I scoff.

Yeah. Because that’s what’s stopping me.

“I’ve got ones that’ll fit you at the starting line,” he promises with a sly grin.

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m freezing. I’ve been standing out here all afternoon. There’s no way I’m doing an obstacle course after that.”

He smirks. “You’re just afraid I’ll kick your ass.”

My competitive side yearns to shove his smug mug into a pile of snow. “Of course you’ll kick my ass. You’re way stronger than I am. Not that I’ve tried myself, but I just watched a bunch of grown men struggle to pull those sleds. It’d take me as long to move one ten feet as it would for you to do the whole course.”

“Then we’ll start at the jump ropes,” he says with a shrug. “Come on. It’ll warm you up.”

I shift nervously. I hate admitting I can’t do something, especially to a hot guy. But I’m not sure I have a choice.

“I’ve never worn snowshoes,” I confess, looking away from him pointedly.

Greg tips his head back and laughs. I scrunch my face at his enjoyment of my discomfort, but he steps toward me, slipping a gloved hand under my chin and forcing me to look at him.

“Then let me help you. We’ll just do it for fun. Promise.” He smiles winningly, and it’s hard to say no.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sounds like a blast.” But secretly, I can’t help thinking that for someone with serious alpha male vibes, he’s awfully considerate.

He steps forward, his thick jacket now touching mine. Just close enough to command my full attention. “When’s the last time you did something out of your comfort zone?”

I keep my face a mask, unwilling to smirk at that question and give any indication that I have no problem being out of my comfort zone.

But then I realize that that’s only true sexually. When was the last time I did something non-sexual that pushed my limits?

“What do I get if I do?” I ask, just to push back a little.

---