Dane
He bends over and stretches some more before standing back to his full height. “I was beginning to think we’d lost you to the woods forever.” He chuckles.
“Funny.” I grin dryly. I throw my duffel with all my gear onto a folding table they’ve set up in a tent for competitors that’s mostly empty now except for two other guys and Levi. “I ran into someone.” Literally.
“A hot someone?”
I think of the woman I ran into—body made of curves and soft lines with hard nipples pressed against my overheated chest. Her eyes reminded me of rich cognac, and I’d happily drink her in all damn day.
My dick comes to life in my shorts at the thought, so I try to think of something else, like the speed pole competition I’m about to take part in.
My gaze meets Levi’s as I open the zipper of my bag. The way he’s grinning has me thinking I said my thoughts out loud, though I know I didn’t.
“How’d you know?” I ask.
He bends down and tightens his knee brace. “I have a sixth sense for these things. Don’t ask further questions.”
I take out some of my gear, including my high-grip boots and climbing spurs. “You’re a weird man, Levi. Sure you’re not the one spending too much time in the woods?”
He chuckles again. “I do spend a lot of time there, but unlike you, I hang out with people in the real world, too.”
“And you think I don’t?”
“Says the man I see only a handful of times a year.”
I could argue with him, remind Levi that I don’t work full-time for Starlight Lumber there’s no doubt in my mind.
I pat Levi on the back and then grab the rest of my gear. “You can try.”
“Oh, Dane. I’m going to do more than try.”
“You’re going down, Dane!” Levi calls from the pole next to mine.
On my other side is a man I don’t know, probably an out-of-towner who came to try to win the prize money.
All some of the guys here do is compete in competitions like this and even participate in world championships.
But the ninety-foot speed pole climb is the only event I compete in, and I only do it here in Starlight Haven.
I’m sure these guys know it, too. A lot of them might even have come here specifically to beat me and my record of four-point-seven-three seconds. Which I set last year and intend to beat by at least a half a second this year.
I think the man next to me says good luck, but I don’t acknowledge him or Levi, who’s talking to the man next to him.
I inhale a calming breath as the announcer comes over the PA system to give us a ninety-second warning.
I do a quick triple check of all my gear, making sure my fall-arrest harness is good for my descent after I win.
I secure my flipline, a rope to stabilize and assist my climb in my gloved hands, wrapping it securely around the pole.
The buzz of the crowd cheering around the perimeter spikes my adrenaline, and a thirty-second warning is given.
I hear grunts of the men around me, near battle cries, but I remain focused.
Lifting my right leg, I secure my foot on the pole with my climbing spur.
Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. My heart accelerates in my chest, and I feel my pulse in my throat.
It’s easy to forget how much this competition excites me since it only happens once a year, but it returns to me quickly, lighting every nerve ending in me from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair.
I inhale again, and my muscles tense, ready and waiting for the final countdown.
“Competitors ready?” the announcer asks rhetorically. “Three—”
My hands grip my flipline, and everything in me screams Win!
“Two—”
My calves tighten, and I relax my jaw so I don’t grind my teeth.
“One—”
I fill my lungs with air and focus my eyes on the wood grain of the pole.
“Go!”
My muscles bunch and release as I explode upward off the safety cushion beneath the pole.
I drive my left foot up, sticking the spike on my high-grip boot into the wood.
My right leg follows, and I repeat the process, my mind almost going blank as I climb upward, eating up each foot of the pole in seconds.
I breathe hard as I exert myself, loving how the dry mountain air burns my lungs. I feel alive, blood pumping through my veins, and sweat prickling at my brow. My arms and legs strain as I push my body upward and upward until I’ve hit the finish at the top of the pole.
The whole thing is over in a matter of seconds. I exhale and release the grip of my spikes on the pole, falling ninety feet toward the ground in the safe way I was trained, taught by my late dad many years ago.
The moment my feet hit the cushion at the bottom, the sound of the excited crowd is deafening. I don’t even need to hear the announcer say that I broke my own record to know that I did it. I knew I would before the competition began. When I set my mind to something, it will always happen.
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and take in several breaths to calm my burning lungs. As the world comes back to me and reality fills my ears, I realize the crowd has gone quiet, and the announcer is calling for medical attention.
Turning toward the commotion, I see Levi in a crumpled heap on the mat by his pole.