CHAPTER THIRTEEN CLARKE
Chapter Thirteen
Clarke
Once they’d agreed on the design of the sled-kart, they got to work. When they finished, they both stepped back to admire their handiwork.
They’d made certain to find a private location to construct it. Clarke didn’t want anyone seeing what they’d designed. Boudica and Holly were good sentries. Holly barked and Boudica growled whenever someone approached.
“What do you think?” asked Clarke.
“I think we could win.”
“Maybe,” he said, looking over at the two dogs. “Now, it’s up to them.”
He wasn’t worried about Holly. Once that foghorn blasted and the dogs started to run, she would sprint like mad. But he was concerned about Boudica. It was one thing to do that on a surfboard. Quite another to do it in this case.
“How do we get him to do it?” Clarke asked.
“Simple. Show him.”
Clarke nodded. “I see, but not in that kart.”
“No, of course not. You’re too big.”
“Wait. What?”
“You’re too big. Just lie down on the ground.
Let’s move over to a spot where the snow hasn’t been shoveled.
Then you paddle your arms, driving your hands through the snow just like you would if you were on a surfboard.
But first, we should put Boudica in the kart and show him the slits on the side and put his paws through them. ”
“Why me? Why not you? It makes much more sense that it be you. You’re his mother.”
Ceci blinked. “Did you just say I was his mother?”
Exasperated, Clarke waved his hands. “You know what I mean. He knows you. He trusts you. He’s not going to follow any orders from me.”
“Oh, yes, he will. When I tried to get him to do it on the surfboard, he wouldn’t. He flat out refused. But when that surfer did, Boudica jumped to it. I think the dog might be a closet sexist.”
He had to bite his lip hard to keep himself from laughing.
He sighed.
Am I actually going to do this?
She did pay a lot for this date.
Fuck.
He did a quick sweep of the area to make certain there was no one nearby. He didn’t want anyone to see what he was about to do.
Ceci placed Boudica in the kart. She slipped one paw through one slat, and Boudica went ahead and did the same with his other paw.
Clarke took one more look around before he lay down and swept his arms, pushing through the snow, in a kind of reverse snow angel.
“See, Boudica,” Ceci cried excitedly, “just like that.”
And damn if the dog didn’t do it. Ceci had to run in front of the kart to stop it.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Clarke said, as he stood up, wiping the snow from his parka and jeans.
As they approached the starting line, the man with the Lab and the Jack Russell laughed, pointing at Boudica. “Butterball’s going to race?”
The man’s arms might be the same circumference as my thighs.
Ceci pushed past Clarke and got up in his face. “Not only is he going to race, he’s going to win!”
“How’s he going to do that, cupcake? You going to get on all fours and pull that kart yourself? Now that I’d like to see.”
Clarke fisted his palms, but just then Ceci lunged at the man and he quickly pulled her back.
“He’s not worth it,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll show him on the track.”
“Just what I thought,” the man roared. “All bark. No bite.”
He felt her stiffen and only then realized he’d placed his arm around her. She looked up at him and he quickly removed it.
They stood silent, staring at each other. For how long, he couldn’t say. But it felt to him like a very long time.
“Do you ever get upset?” she spat.
“Of course I do.”
“How would anyone ever know? You’re such a diplomat.”
She turned with Boudica and headed to the starting line.
“Well, it’s good one of us is,” he mumbled.
Once all the karts and dogs were lined up, they stood waiting for the foghorn to signal the start of the race. Clarke wiped his palms on his jeans.
Am I actually sweating over the Pawsome Sledding Shenanigans?
He caught a glimpse of Ceci. She had her hands clenched, and she couldn’t keep her feet still. Adrenaline, he thought, smiling. Then the foghorn sounded, and the dogs took off.
At first it looked like one massive swarm of dogs, but then Holly and Boudica got out slightly ahead of the pack. Unfortunately, so did the Lab and Jack Russell.
While both teams increased their lead over the rest of the pack, the Lab began to pull ahead as they neared the final stretch. They were coming up to the final turn. After that, there was just a short straightaway to the finish line.
His heart sank. They were going to lose. The Lab and Jack Russell were not only increasing their lead, they weren’t leaving any room to pass on the inside.
Clarke blinked and, in that flash of an instant, he almost missed it.
That slight but fierce whippet slid into what hardly looked like even a sliver of space.
The kart hit the other kart so hard the Jack Russell nearly flew out of it and the kart went spinning, sliding to the outside, taking the Lab and Jack Russell with it.
Clarke could almost swear he saw Boudica, who was growling, throw his weight at them.
From there, Holly and Boudica sped down the straightaway and across the finish line.
And the crowd went wild. It was a cliché, but it was true. They did go wild. Everyone was clamoring for photos of Holly and Boudica.
Before Clarke knew it, Ceci had leapt into his arms and was hugging him.
“We did it! We did it!” she cried.
She’s so light. I could carry her all day and night and never grow weary.
Yet at the same time, he could feel her warm weight as it pressed into him, feel the beating of her heart against his own.
When she jumped down, he watched her try to catch her breath.
Her eyes were sparkling, flashing that brilliant blue, which looked like the sky when the sun came out to dazzle.
But beyond that, he caught a glimmer of that stormy gray.
He felt his fingers tingle as his gaze drifted to her neck, thinking how small and fragile it was and how he could hold on to it easily with just one hand.
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, guys, get up there and receive your trophy!”
Ceci took off and Clarke followed her. But when they got to the place where they awarded the trophy, the burly man was there complaining to the officials.
“Look at their kart! Holes in it so the dog in the kart can run! That’s against the rules. Two dogs running. That’s cheating!”
The official turned to them. “Is this true?”
Clarke was about to step forward, but as usual Ceci beat him to it.
“We did not cheat!” she cried.
“Is it true that there are holes in the kart for the passenger dog to stick his legs through?”
“Well, yes,” Ceci admitted with a tone that had dropped considerably, both in decibel and in confidence.
“Then I’m afraid he’s right. That does constitute cheating. In which case—”
Clarke didn’t let him finish. “Just a moment. The rules state that only one dog can run. Am I correct?”
The official nodded.
“Well, in that case, we didn’t cheat. Boudica didn’t run. Only Holly ran.”
“He did too run,” the burly man cried. “Look at the two holes in the kart.”
“You said it yourself, two holes, not four. His back legs were in the kart. So how could he run with only two front paws? He couldn’t. And he didn’t. The rules don’t say anything about a dog hanging their front paws outside the kart and pulling through the snow. And that’s exactly what he did.”
The officials got together and conferred with one another. When they came back with the verdict, Holly and Boudica were the winners. They handed the trophy to Ceci, who was quick to hold it up to the burly man with an expression on her face which was basically equivalent to giving him the finger.
Clarke couldn’t help but grin watching Ceci hold that trophy and walk proudly back down Main Street. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it looked like Boudica and Holly also put some swagger in their strut.
What time is it? he wondered as they approached the truck. The sun was getting close to sinking into the horizon.
I suppose it’s too early for dinner. Maybe drinks?
She paid a lot for this date. I told myself I would make sure it’s a date worthy of that contribution insofar as that’s possible in Cornhole, Montana. Then again, the way she’s hugging that trophy—maybe that, to her, is enough.
They were a couple of steps from the truck, and this time he was determined he get to the door before she did. He jogged past and held it open.
“What do you think about—”
“Hey!”
Clarke turned to see the burly man marching toward them. He could sense Ceci was going to go at him. He grabbed her arm.
“Just forget it. He’s not worth it. Come on, let’s go.”
“She got your balls in a vise grip? Should have known. You’ve got pussy written all over you.”
Clarke faced the man. “Is that supposed to be an insult? Because if it is, I don’t get it. I don’t mind having pussy all over me. I certainly prefer it to limp dick, which I can see is written all over you.”
He turned back to Ceci. “Come on, in the truck. Let’s go.”
He couldn’t see the man behind him approaching. What he could see was Ceci—lunging forward full throttle. Only afterward, he realized the guy was probably about to sucker punch him.
“No, Ceci,” he shouted, as he swiftly jumped between them. Once again, his timing was impeccable. He did so just as Ceci’s fist flew forward.
He couldn’t say exactly when he thought, Here we go again. Was it when he caught a glance of something out of the corner of his eye that turned out to be Ceci’s fist? When he felt that fist make contact? When gravity took him down? Or when he actually hit the ground?
He only knew that after he hit the ground, he looked up through bleary eyes to see Ceci Rivers knee the man in the groin and the man crumple like a piece of Saran Wrap.
The girl should have some kind of warning label tattooed across her forehead—hazardous to one’s health. Either that, or a skull and crossbones.
Boudica bit the man on the ankle for good measure. The bulldog would have gone for more had Ceci not stopped him.
As she helped Clarke up and into the truck, he tried to take some comfort in them coming to his rescue.
But right about now, he thought, sitting in the passenger seat while Ceci drove, I could really do with some deep-fried s’mores washed down with a glass of single malt scotch.
He needed something to take the bitter taste out of his mouth.
Not even the fact that Holly Golightly had lifted her leg and peed on the man, before they’d all jumped in the truck and taken off, had managed to make him feel any better.