CHAPTER TWELVE CECI
Chapter Twelve
Ceci
Ceci smiled as they walked down Main Street. The sun had come out and the snow everywhere was sparkling like crystals. On the ground, the tops of the buildings, adorning the A-frames that lined the street and covering those majestic mountains in the near distance.
She side-eyed Clarke.
He devoured that burger. He devoured the second one too. And then he ate the s’mores. I never would have imagined he’s a man with that kind of appetite. Whenever I see him at events, he’s always so measured when it comes to putting anything in his mouth, whether food or drink.
I wonder if he’s like that with other things, she thought, staring at his lips.
“What’s that?” Clarke said, nudging her from her reverie.
“Huh?”
“That.” He pointed up ahead. “You see all those people standing around with dogs?”
Ceci’s eyes widened. “It’s the Paw-some Sledding Shenanigans!”
She and Pixel had watched it last year. It was a hoot. She’d wanted to enter Boudica, but you needed two dogs for the race.
She looked down at Boudica and Holly.
“We’ve got to enter.”
She grabbed his arm and dragged him behind her, not stopping until they’d reached the town’s edge.
“Look,” she said, pointing her finger to the right, a little further beyond the last building.
“Is that what I think it is?” Clarke asked.
Nodding, she smiled. “It’s a track. You build your own kart—or sled—it’s really kind of both. You make it out of cardboard. Then the dogs race them. But you have to have two dogs. One sits in the sled while the other pulls it.”
He stared back at her but said nothing.
“Don’t you see?” she cried. “We have two dogs—Boudica and Holly. We can do this! And not only that, I bet we can win. You see that man over there?” She pointed to a burly man with a Labrador and Jack Russell.
“Such a prick! He won last year. I only remember because when he overheard me saying I wished I had another dog so I could enter, he laughed and made all sorts of mean and snide comments about Boudica.”
The bulldog looked up with trusting, watery eyes and a drooping mouth.
Ceci leaned in, cupping her hand over her mouth. “We shouldn’t really talk about this around him.”
“Was Boudica traumatized?” he asked with a smile.
Ceci scoffed. “No, he wanted to bite them—all three of them. And he knows exactly where to do so, because I taught him. So it’s better we don’t get him too riled up. I mean riled up for the race, yes, but not the other thing.”
“Assaulting others and causing bodily harm?”
“Yeah. That.”
He had yet to wipe that smile off his face.
“Can you be serious about this?” she huffed.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, I can.” He paused, looking down at Boudica and Holly. “It’s true we have two dogs, but we’ve also got a problem.”
“What problem?”
Without saying anything, he tilted his head toward Boudica.
“What problem?!” she demanded.
“You can’t see it?” he asked, an astonished look on his face.
It was obvious he thought Boudica was the problem. Dear, sweet, fearless and loyal Boudica.
Typical Sir Stick. His precious Holly is perfection personified, while Boudica—she looked down at the beefy bulldog. Crossing her arms and gritting her teeth, she glared at Sir Stick Up His Ass. “What?! Problem?!”
He held out his arms, indicating the two dogs. “Just look at them.”
Holly stood thin, graceful, and regal, gazing off at the mountains. Boudica stood on thick legs with a heavy chest and belly, panting and drooling as he gazed at every burger, hot dog, and sausage that passed.
“Which dog pulls the sled and which dog sits in it?” Clarke asked.
“Holly here could do either very well. By the looks of the competition, she’s at least as fast if not faster than the fastest dog here.
She’s also extremely light, in which case, she’d be ideal to pull.
” He paused, looking down at the bulldog. “Whereas Boudica …”
Hands on hips, Ceci narrowed her eyes. “Whereas Boudica, what?”
“Well, Boudica’s—not—light. That’s a lot of weight to pull. Especially for a dog as slight as Holly. And as for running, well he’s not really made for running.”
“You know, people underestimated Anker. And look at him now. But then I’m sure I don’t need to tell you any of this. Who knows? He may rival your record. Maybe even surpass it.”
He glared back at her. “He might, but only if he cheats, doesn’t play by the rules, and looks to get rid of any competition by crashing into them and taking them out of the race completely.”
“Oh, we’re on that broken record again. Anker did not intentionally crash into you.
And I certainly didn’t direct him to. Is he aggressive?
Yes. Does he push the edge of the envelope when it comes to the rules?
Do I? Yes. That’s why we win. And when we do win, we win.
Fair and square. It’s pitiful that you have to blame your own failings on someone else.
Funny too, because everyone is always saying what a gentleman you are.
Well, suggesting what you are about Anker and myself is poor sportsmanship and hardly gentlemanly behavior. ”
He glared back at her. His chest was heaving, and she could hear his breath as he exhaled.
If he was a thoroughbred, his nostrils would be flaring and snorting and he’d be pawing the ground.
She’d never seen that tempestuous look in his eyes.
His eyes were usually so warm and dreamy, like silk spun out of caramel. If that was possible.
Which it isn’t. So why are you even thinking about it?
Finally, he spoke.
“Look, we’re never going to agree on this, but let me make one thing clear. I never suggested that you directed Anker to make the move he did that took me out of that final race. It’s just him being too aggressive, wanting to win at all costs. Consequences be damned.”
He’s talking about Anker, isn’t he?
His tone and the way he looked made it sound way too personal.
Now that she thought about it, she realized Anker’s career thus far was looking very much like Clarke’s in his early years of racing. Clarke had also come on the scene with guns blazing. To win like he had, he must have done the very things he’s accusing Anker of.
“Look,” he said, “can we put aside any discussion of Anker? Let’s focus on the issue at hand. Be fair,” he said, waving his hand in the bulldog’s direction. “I’m sure Boudica is good at many things. It’s just this kind of thing isn’t one of them.”
Ceci sighed. “Okay, I see your point.”
Boudica was panting. Even in sub-zero temperatures, the dog panted. During the summer, if he wasn’t planted in front of an air conditioner, she needed to take him to the beach.
The beach. That’s it!
She held up her finger. “But Boudica is strong, in his chest and those front legs. When we were in Hawaii, I met a surfer …”
She paused when she saw him roll his eyes.
“Why did you roll your eyes?”
“I didn’t roll my eyes. In fact, I don’t think I have ever rolled my eyes.”
“You did. Just now. After I said I met a surfer. Do you have a problem with surfers?”
“No, not at all. If I did roll my eyes, and I’m not saying that I did, but if I were to roll my eyes in response to your comment, I suppose it would be because, well I’m assuming the surfer was a man, and in that case, it’s hardly surprising that you would meet him.”
Now Ceci rolled her eyes.
“Oh,” he scoffed, “and you would roll your eyes at that. Look, I’m just going by the evidence. It stands to reason that wherever you go, that would happen.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to slut-shame me?”
His eyes popped. Either he was a really good actor or he was in fact surprised by what she said.
“No,” he said. “It’s because, well, you’re you.”
She frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you? Men like you. All men like you. I don’t think I’ve ever been around a man who didn’t like you. And I don’t mean necessarily in a …” He paused, and looked up at the sky as if he might find the answer there. Finally he looked back at her. “In an intimate way.”
“You mean sexual?”
He threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Yes. Sexual. My point is men like you. That’s it.”
She grinned. “Do you like me?”
“Right now?” he hissed. “No, I do not.”
“Well, that’s good because the feeling is mutual. In any case, my point is not about the surfer, whom you seem so keen on talking about, but Boudica, and specifically Boudica on a surfboard.”
“Look, I have no interest in talking about this surfer or any other man you’ve—” He stopped abruptly. His cheeks crimsoned and he sighed. “What about Boudica?”
“Well, we rented a special surfboard for dogs. I can’t believe there is such a thing, but there is. We got one slim enough so Boudica could have his front paws in the water while he lay on the surfboard. And the surfer taught him to paddle. And he did.”
“Hmm. He paddled? Was he any good at it?”
“He was. He put those brawny legs of his in the water and he pulled and pulled and pulled. And boy did he move. Fast!”
“That’s interesting. It gives me an idea.”