Mud, Love, and Chemistry

1. Chapter 1

Crisp mountain air fills my lungs as I exit the car and step into the hot July sun. Sweat immediately beads on my forehead, so I slide on my headband. Double checking that my braid is secure, I round the back of the car with a light skip in my step.

It’s my favorite day of the year, Mud Down race day.

“Fuck, it’s already so hot, and it’s only eight-thirty,” complains Lisa, my high school BFF now turned college roommate, as she meets me at the trunk.

“You can thank global warming for that.”

Lisa laughs, but quickly stops when she notices I’m not laughing. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Of course I am.” I pull out our backpacks, making sure everything is packed securely; sunscreen, water bottles, wallets, phones. “But also, we’ve done this race four summers in a row. Colorado is hot in July,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“You’ve done this race four years in a row. I didn’t come last year.”

A shaky breath bleeds through my lips before my throat closes up. I can’t swallow over the lump that forms.

Lisa’s eyes immediately widen when she realizes what she said, and she wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Sorry, Brynn. I didn’t mean to bring him up. I was?”

“It’s okay,” I say, even though it’s not entirely true. Refusing to let this sudden reminder of my heartache ruin my adrenaline high, I shut the trunk and link my arm with hers. “Let’s wake up Jackie and Hannah. Their backseat nap has come to an end.”

The frigid burst of air-conditioning blasts me in the face as we enter the huge purple and black tent. Lisa lets out a sigh of relief, while I, for one, can’t wait to get out of here. I hate air-conditioning. It taints the air, giving it a stale taste. There’s no comparison to the energizing feeling of fresh air flooding your lungs.

Jackie and Hannah, our friends and college housemates, are finally awake enough after check-in to take the ceremonious selfie in front of the Mud Down sign. Then, we head out to put our backpacks in a locker.

I relish the open air with a deep inhale as we step back into the warmth of the sun. Walking toward the starting area, I take a moment to survey the grounds. The same vendors from the previous years have their tents up, and eager racers already congregate near the race entrance. I admire their enthusiasm.

A pang of jealousy rips through my heart as I notice several couples dressed in matching race gear, holding hands or sharing kisses while they wait. I thought I had that. I thought I had a partner to share this race with, but he wasn’t who I believed him to be.

I huff and square my shoulders. There’s no sense in letting my past heartbreak get the best of me. Sure, I may have spent the last year solo and in a dating rut, but today is the best day of the year, and no memory is going to change that.

No matter how painful it is.

At the starting line, we all stretch while waiting for the emcee to begin his usual motivational speech. More people file in, and soon, we’re surrounded by other racers. It’s so cool that all these people are here to partake in my favorite 10-k race.

Including my friends.

“So, Jackie, Hannah, ready for your first Mud Down?” I ask as I slide into a side lunge.

“I would be if I didn’t have to get up so early.” Jackie glares at me mockingly. “Why’d you sign us up for such an early race time?”

I throw my hands up in defense. “Because it’s going to get hotter as the day goes on. Better to get it done early.” If it were up to me, we’d have arrived at eight when the event opened, and we’d already be on the course. My friends, while excited for the Mud Down, don’t share my tenacity for it.

“And get used to it,” Lisa chimes in. “Brynn always signs up for the earliest race she can.”

I bump Lisa’s shoulder with mine. “More like the earliest one you’ll let me.” We stick our tongues out at each other before sharing a laugh.

Hannah puts her hands on her hips. “Do you drive all the way to Grand Junction every year? Isn’t there another race that’s closer to school?”

“Not one with this good of a vibe,” I say with extra pep.

“At least we spent the night here instead of making the five-hour drive from Greeley this morning.” Lisa uses my shoulder for balance as she pulls her leg behind her into a quad stretch. “Be glad you came this year, though. Now that we’re twenty-one, we get a finisher beer at the end.” Lisa holds up her arm in triumph, the words “Legal Drinking Age” printed on her wristband.

After a few spirited high-fives, the four of us huddle together, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, and begin bouncing on our toes as we psych ourselves up. Our uplifting affirmations get interrupted by the screech of a microphone.

“Good morning, Mud Downers!” the emcee yells from a tent next to the starting line. “Y’all ready to get dirty?”

A collective cheer goes up from the crowd, and Lisa rocks me back and forth.

“Now, before y’all get out there, let’s go over the legal stuff I have to tell you.” The emcee proceeds to explain the liabilities of the Mud Down, the safety regulations, and the partner rule. “Find the person to your right and to your left. Those are your teammates.”

I look left at Lisa, then right at Jackie. We grin cartoonishly at each other.

“Remember that word, teammates. They aren’t your competition, aren’t your enemies. They’re all running the same course, doing the same obstacles, getting dirty, just like you. So leave your egos behind.”

A lightness builds in my chest. I love the Mud Down sentiment.

“Take care of each other out there. Lend a hand, work together, and be brave enough to lean on someone else if needed.” The emcee leaves the tent, cordless microphone in hand, and steps into the middle of the group. “Last thing, I want you to turn to your neighbors, give them a fist bump, and say, ‘you got this.’”

I turn left and fist bump Lisa, but when I turn right, Jackie isn’t there. Instead, I find myself staring straight into a guy’s chest. A guy’s muscular chest.

I raise my gaze to meet the most beautiful pair of dark brown eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like sparkling muddy pools flashing in the morning sun. My heart skips a beat as I take in the face surrounding the eyes. This guy is gorgeous. Shaggy light-brown hair held back by a sweatband, a strong jaw covered in the right amount of stubble, and a dazzling smile that has my stomach flipping.

“You got this.” His low, smooth voice is full of confidence as he bumps his fist against mine.

The second his knuckles tap my own, the spell I’m under breaks, and I blink before flexing my fingers like they’re exploding. “You, too,” I say, much quieter and with less confidence than he did.

His smile melts into a smirk before he turns back to his friend, and I spin to face Lisa. I suck in a breath, but luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice what just happened.

To be honest, I don’t even know what just happened. I’m usually so cool and collected, but one look at that guy and I was reduced to a swooning nitwit.

Shake it off, Brynn.

Besides, I’ve been off relationships and guys in general for a year, and I’m certainly not gunning for a casual hook-up. Even if I talked more to that guy, there’s a minuscule chance we’ll see each other again, so I move on. I focus on the race ahead of me.

That’s the whole reason I’m here, anyway.

The emcee blows the whistle, officially starting the race. All the racers take off. My three friends and I begin with a liberal jogging pace, but they quickly slow down. Not on my watch. I jog a few feet ahead of them, then turn around to jog backward. When I wave them on and spout motivational phrases, I’m met with a couple of middle fingers and stuck-out tongues.

I don’t give up, though.

Slowing my pace, I run circles around my friends. They complain and roll their eyes, even take a few playful swings at me, but in the end, they become fed up with my antics. Picking up their pace, we get back on track in no time.

After a half mile, we reach the first obstacle, the muddy crawl.

I take the lead. Sliding into the murky water, I dunk my head so I can crawl under the low-hanging barbed wire, then hold it up so my friends can slither through safely. That starts a chain reaction, and other racers begin copying me.

We conquer another few obstacles before coming to one that really requires teamwork. The mud mounds are exactly what they sound like; several mounds of mud over six feet tall with water-filled ditches in between. People give you a boost, then you reach down to pull them up. The slippery mud offers no footing, and it”s a riot watching people slide face first into the next ditch.

The four of us jump in, and I begin giving the boosts. Lisa first, then Jackie, then Hannah, and lastly, me. This order goes on for all of the mounds, five in total. When I lift Hannah out of the final ditch, I lose my footing and go under the water. I come up immediately, ineffectively wiping my face, and reach up to grab Hannah’s hand.

But Hannah’s hand seems to have doubled in size.

“You got this,” a deep voice says, and I forget all about the mud covering my face, whipping my head up to see my starting line hunk holding my hand. His half smile returns, and my breath shakes from my mouth, mud sputtering off my lips. “And I got you.” Then he yanks me out of the ditch as if I weigh nothing.

Once I’m on solid ground again, hunky guy lets go of my hand, winks at me, and takes off running with his buddy. I’m left speechless, staring after him. I don’t even know what to think. He’s still as hot as he was on the starting line, even now, covered in mud.

Lisa calls my name, startling me and pulling me back to the real world. I jog to catch up with my friends. They give me concerned looks as I opt to walk to the next obstacle instead of jogging. I tell them it’s because I have to pee. In truth, though, my knees are wobbling so much, I don’t think I could hold a jog if my life depended on it.

Luckily, a water station is our next stop. To play out my ruse, I step into the mud-covered interior of a Porto-Potty, hoping they use environmentally friendly chemicals. I’d hate to think what would happen if one of these sprung a leak.

I run my hands over my crusty hair. What is going on with me? I don’t ever get flustered over a guy.

I shake my head. It’s a fluke. A hot guy happened to be in my space, and I lost focus for a bit. No big deal. I’ve recovered now. My legs aren’t shaking anymore, my head has cleared, and I can finish this race strong. Exiting the tiny restroom, I hold my head up. I’m not going to let some handsome face deter me from my goal.

But as I move to join my friends again, the handsome, albeit muddy, face runs past me. When our eyes meet, he flashes another brilliant smile, and my heart skips a beat.

Dammit.

My three friends and I take off down the track. By the time we reach one of my favorite obstacles, the vertical wall, I’ve all but regained my composure. That’s not to say I haven’t been searching for this guy at every turn and berating myself for it. At the wall, I put my back to it and drop into a squat, becoming a step stool for my friends.

Lisa is last, and she sits atop the wall with her hand extended down. When I shake my head, she huffs. “I should’ve known you’d want to do this one yourself. Okay, we’ll be waiting for you,” she says, shrugging before climbing down the other side.

With an anxious skip in my step, I back up. I need room to get a running start so I can jump and shimmy my five-foot-five self up the eight foot vertical climb. Of course, when I get back far enough, a few other racers are now working their way over the wall, so I have to wait.

“You got this?”

I glance over to find my hunk standing next to me, his mud-covered eyebrows arched, making the mud cake into his forehead creases. A wry smirk crosses my lips, and I nod. “Oh, yeah. I got this.”

As I dash toward the wall, my adrenaline pumps furiously. I scale it no problem, but instead of jumping over, I straddle the top and wave for my gorgeous race partner to follow. I watch him lick his mud-covered lips, spitting almost immediately before he takes off. He, of course, makes it up without issue, but he’s also got almost a foot on me, making his climb shorter.

When he gets to the top, he copies my straddle of the wall, facing me. “I’m Sam,” he says and offers me his hand.

I shake it firmly, bits of dried mud flaking between our palms. “Brynn.”

He stares at me, his lips turned up in the most adorable way, melting my insides, and I can’t do anything but stare back. Everything stops. I can’t feel the sun baking my mud mask. I can’t see the other racers topping the wall around me. I can’t hear anything except the erratic beating of my heart.

“Brynn! Come on!” Lisa’s sharp shout severs the moment.

I clear my throat, giving Sam a quick wink. “Gotta go!” Leaping off the wall, I jog to my friends without looking back.

“Who was that?” Lisa asks, jutting her chin over her shoulder.

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Some guy complimenting my climb. Guess I impressed him.”

She gives me a knowing look and starts jogging.

The rest of the race goes almost as expected. While my friends dive into the ice bath, ascend the twenty-foot ladder, and scale the warped wall, I’m right there, leading them. My mind, however, is way behind. I haven’t been able to get that guy, Sam, out of my head. For a moment, I consider jaunting through the electroshock obstacle. Maybe that will reset my brain, but I still have metal pins in my wrist from when I broke it several years ago, so I skip it. Since I’m not leading the way this time, my friends pass it up too.

When we cross the finish line, volunteers give each of us a gray t-shirt with the word “Finisher” across the back and a can of beer. As my muddy fingers leave their mark on the sleek fabric, my sense of accomplishment materializes in my hands. My chest fills with pride for yet another Mud Down completion.

The four of us happily cheers our drinks before heading to the food truck area. While I’m standing in line with Lisa, I find Sam sitting at a picnic table, a beer in his hand. When he sees me, he lifts his beer like he’s cheersing me from afar. I nod, lifting my can as well.

“Is that the same guy from earlier?” Lisa nudges me with her elbow.

“Yeah.” I can’t stop the smile from conquering my face.

She shoves me in his direction. “Go talk to him.”

“What? No.” My adrenaline spikes at the thought.

“Just go.”

Lisa pushes me hard enough that I stagger forward, and Sam notices. Now I have no choice but to talk to him. Even if reluctantly. I walk toward his table, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering a mile a minute. He watches me the entire time, his posture perking up with each step I take.

When I reach the table, I say a quiet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies without taking his eyes off me. “Nice job finishing.”

“You too.”

A throat clears next to him, and Sam does a double take at his friend. “Oh, sorry. This is Walt.” He motions between me and Walt. “This is Brynn.”

My name sounds so natural on his tongue, so fluid.

“Sup?” Walt says, lifting his chin in my direction. “Saw you on the course today. You’re fucking tough.”

Sam elbows him, scoffing at his swearing.

I chuckle. “Thanks.”

A silence settles between us, so Walt stands up. “I, uh, need another beer. I’ll be right back.” And with that, he’s gone, leaving me with Sam.

Sam motions for me to sit, so I do. “Sorry about Walt. No manners, that one.”

“It’s okay.” I shrug. “He’s right, I am fucking tough.”

Sam’s brown eyes sparkle as he grins. “I like that.”

Thank God I’m still covered in mud, because his flattery surely has my cheeks as red as a candied apple. “So, is this your first Mud Down?” I take a sip of my beer.

He nods. “You?”

My can stills at my lips, and I hold up five fingers.

He gapes. “Wow. So, you’re like, an expert at the course then?”

I swallow my drink. “Something like that.”

“You’ll have to share all your secrets with me.”

“No way.” I shake my head. “I’m taking those to the grave.”

Sam’s laugh is like music to my ears.

“Besides, I wouldn’t have the time to bestow all my knowledge onto you. My friends and I are going into town directly after this to get ice cream.”

“Ice cream? No shower first?”

I laugh. “The interesting looks we get are always entertaining.”

“I’ll bet.” Sam’s gaze scans my face as if tracing the muddy outline. “I hope the ice cream is worth the attention.”

“Oh, it is. There’s an old timey soda shop that has the best butter pecan.” My mouth waters just thinking about it.

“I’m more of a mint chocolate chip guy, myself.”

The idea of tasting Sam’s mintiness has me salivating, which surprises me. I haven’t had that urge in a long time.

“Brynn.” Lisa taps my shoulder. “We got our bags and we’re going to take a picture under the finisher sign before we go. Here’s your phone.” She hands me my phone, winking at me before glancing at Sam. “Hey, man.”

“Hey.”

She turns back to me. “Hurry up, okay?”

I shoot Sam an apologetic grimace as I stand up. “Sorry. Got to go.”

“Shit.” Sheer panic seems to overtake Sam’s face as he pats all his pockets. “I’d ask for your number, but I don’t have my phone yet.”

My heart skips a beat. He wants my number? “Well, here,” I say, handing him my phone. “Put yours in mine.”

A delighted smile slides over his face as he types and hands it back to me. I chuckle, reading what he input. “Sam Mudboy? Is that your real last name?”

He shakes his head. “It’s Eastman.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Sam Eastman,” I say as I tap my screen. “See you around.”

“Wait,” he calls after me. “Do you have a last name?”

I turn my chin over my shoulder. “Guess you’ll find out when you check your texts.”