Page 39 of Those Who Are Bound

Elliott laughed outright. “Coward.”

Jonah gave her a playful look before he turned and angled his head, calculating the distance to the three baskets. “Which one gets the most points?”

“It’s not about the baskets, but about the tosses to get to the baskets. As we go along, some of the baskets will be behind trees.”

“Huh. That one’s not behind a tree.” Jonah positioned himself on the pad and, with a slight bend at the waist, aggressively flicked the Frisbee in a downward motion that looked like he would ground it. However, the gray disc dipped and skimmed the ground then caught air, lifting almost miraculously upward as it glided without a hint of wobble, bee-lining toward the basket, ending its flight with a jangle as it tangled in the chains.

Jonah hooted.

Elliott’s jaw dropped in shock. “Are you kidding me?”

Jumping off the pad, Jonah spun and jogged backward toward his Frisbee, a grin breaking across his handsome face, arms spread wide. “Did I forget to mention I was the Frisbee champion in college? Yeah!” He raised one triumphant fist in the air.

Stunned, she called after him, “I thought you’d never played before!”

“Never in my life,” he replied, then turned on a laugh and ran toward the baskets.

Snatching up her backpack, she followed him, still stunned. She was in trouble now. By the time she approached her Frisbee on the ground, he had braced his arm against the top of the metal basket where his Frisbee remained, his grin intact.

“You let me make a fool of myself.”

“Oh, but I enjoyed the instruction.”

Elliott scoffed, picking up her Frisbee.

Jonah pointed to the metal basket. “Right here, darlin’, just toss it right in. You should be able to make that, right?”

She said with mock irritation, “I so want to wipe that smirk off your face.”

He wagged his eyebrows. “You’ve got seventeen more holes to try.”

Her Frisbee hit the chains with resounding force and far greater speed and attack than was necessary from her distance. “Oh, it’s on, Montgomery.”

Grabbing their Frisbees out of the chains, he invited, “Bring it, Rork.”

For the next several holes, they jostled playfully for top position. His first throw appeared to be an incredibly lucky shot even though his Frisbee-throwing skill was undeniable; he kept ahead of her by one or two tosses consistently. By the seventh hole, she managed to get ahead of him. She didn’t gloat, however, taking it in stride, already recognizing he could take the advantage back quite easily. She gave him an assessing side-eye as they walked to the eighth tee.

Taking a water bottle from the backpack, she sipped it as she slung the strap over her shoulder.

Jonah took the bag from her shoulder, transferring it to his own. “My turn.”

Elliott gave him a quizzical look. “You didn’t share the load in Weston.”

He opened his mouth to say something but clearly thought better of it, pressing his lips together and smiling instead.

Catching his unspoken meaning, Elliott nodded. “Oh, you were going to say something sexist.”

He didn’t answer her.

Elliott assured him, “I’m teasing you. I thought it was sweet when you took the laptop satchel from Lucy the other day.”

“Sweet,” he repeated, as though the word pained him.

Elliott chuckled and dropped her voice a few octaves. “Manly?” Then she said seriously, “Some women may not appreciate chivalry, but some of us recognize it for what it is.” Grinning, she added, “When we want to.”

“And there’s the rub,” he pointed out.

Elliott stopped walking and turned, her heart attempting to escape through her ribs as she looked up at him and said seriously, “If that’s who you are, then I’ll appreciate it for what it is without taking offense.”

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