Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Well, damn.
I won the mudder.
Not the entire race. That went to some male triathlete who’s, like, the best in the country and did the mudder for shits and giggles—and for the five-thousand-dollar grand prize.
I won best time among the women. Granted, there were a tenth as many women participating as men, so my odds were better but still, I received a thousand dollars for the women’s first place.
My mom and Jeb and their significant others followed the race via some app for spectators.
They knew all along that I had a chance at winning.
Lewis was in line for fifth place, my mom said, but he helped me at the last minute.
If he’d stayed in fifth, he would have earned prize money comparable to mine.
A thousand dollars isn’t chump change, and he gave it up. For me.
The medics on site told me to see a doctor for my hand, explaining it was likely broken.
They put my arm in a sling, bandaged my cut knees, and removed the splinters.
Once Mom received Lewis’s sworn promise to take me to the hospital for my hand after the festivities, she and Fred left to get food with Jeb and Simone, the four of them like long-lost pals.
Totally bizarre, and I’m not sure what to think of it, so I’m trying not to.
I drink about a gallon of water and one beer. The beer was obligatory, a mudder tradition. For a minute, I worried it would make a reappearance. Turns out pushing your body to the limit, then pouring alcohol down your throat, is not a good idea.
Cali holds out my purse. She applied eye black at some point to get into the spirit of the race. “You sure you don’t need me to stick around? Go with you to the hospital?”
I sling my small bag across my chest and shake my head.
“We’ll make sure she gets home,” one of my drunken teammates shouts way too loudly. None of them placed, but they drank after the race like they had.
No way am I getting a ride from those drunken asshats, but Cali and Jaeger have plans and I don’t want to interfere. “I’ll be fine,” I tell her.
My team and I mingle for an hour with other Alpine Mudders, basking in the glory of having trained like a Navy SEAL, or a Green Beret, or whatever this race is about. For me, it was about stepping outside my comfort zone and holding my own in a male-dominated environment.
Nessa and her secret Buddhist wisdom. She was right. I am stronger. That strength began the moment I decided to face a fear. It snowballed, shaped me. I couldn’t face one without facing others. Which brings me to Lewis.
He is the embodiment of all my fears—of opening up, of having my heart crushed, of trusting. I’ve jumped at every opportunity to push him away, but he’s asked me to give him a chance. He’s been there for me in ways no man has. That’s why I’ll listen to what he has to say.
And because I love him. The person he is, the way he makes me feel—all of it.
Off to the side, Lewis hesitantly chats with another mudder who’s unabashedly sticking her double-Ds in his face.
I don’t blame the girl one bit. With caked-on mud, blue war paint, and muscles bulging from competition—really, the entire package—Lewis is a little mysterious and a lot hot.
I drool in his presence; of course other women do too.
He sips water, glancing at me every few seconds through the throng.
My drunken teammates are celebrating in a corner. I grab more water and make my way back over.
“It’s the girl who won!” A goofy guy wearing a green headband waylays me as I pass, slipping his arm over my shoulders.
“Dude, you crushed me on one of the uphills.” He lists to the side, obviously having dabbled in free alcohol for a good while, and steers me toward the keg, in the opposite direction of Zach and the others. “What’s your—”
Lewis grabs my good hand, leans down, and throws me over his shoulder, my purse digging into my side. “She’s with me,” he calls to the guy as he strides away.
What the hell?
I glance back. The guy quickly shakes it off and approaches a half-naked woman doing a body shot.
“Hey.” I slap Lewis’s back, my gaze catching distractedly on the muscled ass carrying me away. “What are you doing, caveman?”
“Taking you out of here.”
I agreed to listen to him, not to be his girlfriend, though who am I kidding. It’s what I want. “What about the girl you were talking to? Sure you don’t want to see if you can get her digits?”
“Oh, I know I can get her digits.”
I sort of asked for that, but still. “Arrogant much?”
“Not really. It’s the truth.”
He wasn’t interested in the girl who cornered him. He never stopped looking for me. Rationally, I know this, but somehow this discussion has me pissed off. This is not how you go about reassuring someone that you’re committed to making it work. I wiggle on his shoulder and try to slip off.
“Quit it, Genevieve. I could drop you.”
“Then put me down.”
He boosts me off like he’s going to hurl me, then catches me and walks toward the parking lot, arms braced beneath my ass. He looks me in the eye, our chests plastered together. “We’re getting your hand checked, then we’re going to talk.”
“My hand, caveman. The legs function just fine.” I kick out a foot in demonstration.
He snorts. “Yeah, those work too well. I need to tell you some things before you take off again.”
“Hey, I’ve been around. It’s you who’s been distant.”
He stops beside the passenger door of his Jeep.
We’re nose to nose, so close I can see the sweat at his hairline, mud, smooth skin, dark eyes.
Only then does he loosen his arms and allow me to glide slowly over every ripple and ridge of him until I touch ground.
His hand supports my lower back, tucking me close as if he’d rather not let me go.
“I’m sorry about that. I’ve been trying to make things right, but it’s taken time and a lot of coordinating. ”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I guess that’s what we’ll discuss.
I step away and wobble, because if Lewis is hot from a distance, up close he’s like an inferno.
“What about the guys?” I glance behind us, belatedly remembering our drunken comrades in need of a ride.
Nessa had to fill in for someone today, otherwise she’d be around to take them home.
Lewis opens my door and waits for me to enter. “All taken care of. Zach found them a sober driver.”
Urgent care is closer than the ER, according to Lewis, so that’s where we go. My middle finger is in fact broken right below the knuckle, which makes for an attractive splint. I’ll be perpetually flipping everyone the bird for the next three weeks.
The doctor says the bone is aligned and not a severe break.
It should heal well if I keep the splint on, but it’s my right hand, so, of course, I can’t write, or work as a cocktail waitress, not that I intended to return to Blue.
Drake made working there less than ideal, but I had no idea how truly dangerous.
“Why are you driving north?” My eyes follow the casinos sweeping past. My house is in the opposite direction.
“I thought my place would be better for talking without an audience. Is that okay?”
I nod and look out the window, eyes unfocused. I’m scared and excited. Pretty much the two divergent emotions that grip me around Lewis. It’s a heady mix.
We pull around the bend of a long eastbound road to Lewis’s quintessential ski lodge nestled amongst ancient boulders and forest. Beams of sunlight stream through the trees and shine off the red roof of his house.
The dull sting in my chest flares, the one that’s kept me company since the night I found him here with Mira and realized she would always be a barrier between us.
Lewis pulls the key from the ignition and we walk up to his small porch. He unlocks the front door and gestures me inside.
I had a good view of the interior the night I came by, so there are few surprises.
The only part of his house I couldn’t see was the staircase and the second level.
Considering that the living room, with an oversized man-couch and a granite and pine kitchen, takes up the downstairs, there’s probably a bedroom up there.
The house is an A-frame and not much else would fit.
Lewis walks past me into the kitchen and drops his backpack on the island. The kitchen is small and the island is more of a peninsula, attached to the wall with the oven, but the materials are top quality, gray-speckled granite with knotty pine cabinets.
He purses his masculine lips, which has me fantasizing about that part of him up close and personal. His head turns slightly to the side. He lets out a slow breath and glances down my body. “We should shower.”
Heat blooms in my cheeks and my breathing speeds up. “Excuse me?” I choke.
He stalks across the room and climbs the stairs, disappearing up the stairwell.
“Lewis?”
“Come on. Towels are up here,” he calls.
How will taking a shower help the situation?
The sound of a door opening comes from above, along with a shower turning on. I’m covered in dirt and I guess it would be more comfortable to shower before we talk.
Screw it. I toss my purse on the counter and climb up after him.
The upstairs is taken up by the largest bed I’ve ever seen, and a master bath. There’s really no place for me to go except inside his bedroom.
Lewis pulls a plain white T-shirt from a dresser and holds it out. “Will this do? I’d give you boxers, but I’m pretty sure they’ll fall off. The shirt should hit your thighs.” His gaze lingers there and I glare at him.
The shirt is simple and clean, but with nothing else on, it won’t cover much. I had planned on going home after the race and didn’t bring a change of clothes. “We did come here to talk, right?”
He sets the T-shirt on the bed. “Yeah, after we clean up. The mud’s starting to itch.”
Good point. I look down and realize I’ve tracked dirt on his clean carpet. I slip off my shoes and take the towel he hands me.