Page 9 of Ex Marks the Spot

“Courtland is my real name. I go by Court. She calls me Courtney when she’s mad at me.”

“But you said you were on a strangers team, so youarelying to us,” Holbrooke Girl Number One says. She adds a dramatic finger point like she just uncovered the last clue in a cold case.

“I thought I was. Theytoldme I was,” I clarify.

Hartley turns to the woman from the crew. “Is that why there were so many questions about my college relationships in my callback? Were they planning this all along?”

She shrugs. “I don’t work in that area, but anything’s possible on Xtreme Quest.” With that, she heads toward a tent, leaving me to face four skeptical competitors and one very pissed off ex-girlfriend.

Fuck.

Me.

CHAPTER 3

HARTLEY

Day 1—Dallas, Texas

“Can I speak with you in private?”

One of the female competitors mumbles, “Awkward,” under her breath as I stomp away from the hedgerow. Court wisely follows.

When we’re out of earshot, I spin and narrow my eyes at him. “I’m going to make this crystal clear. If you purposely screw this up for me, I will murder you, dismember your body, and feed it to the starving wildlife of whatever continent we’re on.”

His Adam’s apple bobs once. “That was oddly specific for an impromptu threat.”

“Please. I’ve fantasized your demise for years. I even painted it once. The title wasDying,in Detail. I used melted red wax to represent the blood oozing from the gaping wound on your p?—”

“Very creative,” he says, casually draping his hands over his groin.

“If you like that, you should’ve seen the performance art I did with sausage and a blender. So therapeutic.”

I stifle a laugh when he mimics the sound of a dying accordion. Remembering every inch of that man’sdetailshad been a curse until I realized I could destroy a replica of it any time I wanted. Megan encouraged me to profit offmy heartbreak by displaying my collection asA Sadist’s Paradise. I still wonder if I should have.

“Central Tennessee State, you’re up in five for promo photos,” a guy calls from across the turf.

I wave, letting him know we heard him, then turn my attention to Court. “Ground rules: you will not touch me unless it is required to win a challenge, we will not speak unless it is directly related to this race, and if anyone from the show asks you why we broke up, the acceptable answer is, ‘Because I’m a horrible human being.’ Got it?”

He nods. “I want to say one thing, though.”

“Fine.” I look to my right and focus on a team of crew members attaching a massive blue-and-orange Xtreme Quest curtain to a set of trusses.

“Hartley.”

“What?”Are they going to hide something behind that?

Court breathes out a frustrated grunt and takes my chin between his thumb and finger, forcing me to look up at him.

I absolutely do not savor the familiar waft of woodsy cologne, and I refuse to acknowledge the spark that sizzles down my neck and across my chest. “I thought I told you?—”

His blue-green eyes flash with heat. “No touching or speaking unless it’s about the race. And this is.”

“Then let go of me and spit it out.”

He crosses his arms, giving me a front-row seat to a wall of biceps and pecs. Has he been carrying cinderblocks for the last six years?

“This isn’t a game to me. I need to win this race. It’s—” He peers off in the distance, lips pressed thin, and releases a long breath through his nose. When his gaze settles on me again, the heat in his eyes has been replaced with...sadness?

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