Page 86 of Never Date A Player
“It’s Washoe for good luck,” I tell her. “The guys thought it would be a nice touch. I put it on my arm because—well, for obvious reasons.”
Even without the bruise, my arms are my biggest weakness. I’m not built like a man and nothing will change that, not even the mini-guns I’ve developed through Lewis’s training. I’m competing against a bunch of beefy dudes who climb vertical walls with their pinkies. I’ll blow past them running, because I’m not encumbered by all that muscle and I’m fast, but the arm obstacles are gonna hurt.
“You sure you’re up for this?”
I shift my elbow and admire the vibrant coloration from where Drake squeezed me. My body has recovered for the most part from the attack. The rest of me is another story. “It’s sore, but mainly it just looks bad. I actually think the bruise makes me appear hardcore, which I consider a bonus.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m worried about your arm, but I was thinking about what happened.”
“I’m okay.” Sort of. Not really. I’m not sure I’ll ever fully get over what Drake tried to do. The anxiety of knowing how close he came to truly hurting me has me waking at night in a cold sweat. “I feel better moving forward. If I sit at home depressed and scared, he’s won, you know?”
“I wasn’t only referring to Drake,” she says pointedly. My heart sinks. She’s referring to the fact that Lewis hasn’t been by.
She shakes her head and drags me out of the bathroom. “We’d better get going. Jaeger’s got the car running. Fred just picked up your mom. He arrived on the first flight in this morning. Everyone’s pumped—” She gives a little hop at the front door and claps her hands together as I grab my phone and ID.
I’m jittery with nerves, so that explains my adrenaline rush, but seriously, how does Cali have this kind of energy in the morning? It’s not human. Her excitement and the knowledge that everyone will be watching isn’t helping my nerves.
No pressure.
We pull into the packed parking lot below Heavenly in Cali’s sporty new car, courtesy of her hot, generous boyfriend. I’m really not jealous of the car, but of the devoted, loving boyfriend? Hell yes.
Jaeger bought Cali a car because he wanted her safe, and because he has insane money and can afford it. He was worried about her bumming rides after it turned out someone she rode with spiked her mocha with the drugs that put her in the hospital. Jaeger isn’t being too cautious. He wants to take care of her, and there’s something so romantic about the gesture it brings tears to my eyes. I’m totally overemotional and it’s not helping my warrior appearance.
I could have had that kind of love. Maybe. Lewis would have been a devoted boyfriend—except where Mira was concerned.
I made the right choice.
The lifeless ski lift chairs flicker in the sunlight like metal skeletons against the brown landscape as we make our way through the throng to the check-in table. In a way, the mountain is a graveyard without winter snow. I sign in with the organizers and move to the center of the crowd, bathed in competitive adrenaline.
The air around me shifts, crackles, sending a tingle down my skin, a higher energy than the existing buzz of activity. I know he’s close before I catch sight of his head several inches above those of the other competitors. As it did the first night we met, his presence disarms, dizzies.
I watch from a dozen feet away as Lewis approaches our team. His body is painted like mine, but he pulls it off, as if he’s meant to wear face paint and fight battles. The fitted clothes show off every muscle and smooth line of his masculine frame, passed down from generations of Washoe bred to hunt the land beneath our feet.
His head swivels, his gaze snagging mine and holding it as I approach. My heart beats a spastic rhythm, my eyes darting away and landing instinctively on the hillside. Being here with him—it’s too much. I miss him, and he’s beautiful in this place.
Lewis glances in the direction of my gaze as he steps toward me. “Hallowed ground. That’s what we’re competing on,” he says.
I focus on the wiry lifts and decomposed hillside—and then I see the rest. Wood logs halfway up the hill—an obstacle?
Competitors aren’t allowed information about the course layout, but Lewis has done this before. He knows what to look for and he knows the land, having grown up here. “Is this another spooky story to freak me out?”
He shrugs. “It’s true. This place was used for rituals.” His mouth purses. “Not sure which, maybe the spirit babies.”
Spirit babies? What the hell? I’m stressed about the race and more than a little shaken up by what happened with Drake. I don’t need to worry about man-eating birds or Native American Chucky dolls coming after me.
Lewis pulls out a jar of blue face paint from a small backpack. He reaches inside the container and runs a warm finger down my neck. My body jerks in a shiver. The absence of his touch these last couple of days has me craving him. His broad hand grounds me on my good arm and he finishes the design, his fingers gentle.
My gaze strays to his eyes and he returns the look with such intensity, I forget where I am for several heartbeats. “What’s it for?” I finally manage. I’m guessing he created another symbol, but I can’t see my neck.
He shoves the jar in his pack. “Protection. Prosperity.” He paces a few feet away and checks in his bag with the coordinators.
Tears well behind my eyes. What is my problem? So I was almost raped, my absent father suddenly appeared in my life, and the guy I’m in love with is too overburdened for a real relationship. Okay, that is all pretty fucked up, but I can’t let it cripple me now.
I drop my head back and gaze at the blue sky. I will not compare the painted protection symbol Lewis gave me to Jaeger’s purchase of a car for Cali. They’re not the same. They can’t be. I’m reading things into it because I want to be with Lewis, even if it’ll hurt me in the end.
We attach anklets that track our times and Cali squeezes the bejesus out of me. “Good luck!” she shouts, trilling her tongue in catcalls to my teammates and me from the sidelines.
I line up at the start. We’re one of the last heats, our times clocked by the anklets and broken down by men and women. Since we’re one of the final groups, we should know right away how well we did.
