Page 58 of Ex Marks the Spot
“You did,” someone says. Me, maybe? The sudden rush of warm buzzing makes it impossible to think. Actually, no. I can think just fine—specifically about how beautiful Court’s lips are and how they’d feel on mine after all these years becausemy god I want to kiss him.
And he’s so close. All I’d have to do is?—
“Yoooo! Who’s ready for a tea party?”
I startle at Big Mike’s obnoxious greeting, taking one step back like I’ve just been caught with my hand in a cookie jar (or more accurately, splayed across Court’s chest). The upside is I can finally dry my face, which I do while Mike and DeAngelo high-five the group of tea makers and officially announce that “the Wise Guys are in the house.”
“Jackasses is more like it,” Court says, pressing his lips tight. His expression gives no indication he’d been caught up in the moment like I was, and that’s probably an upside too. Getting through the next two weeks will be challenging enough without adding fresh hormones to the mix.
Refocusing on the logistics of the race, I say, “We should talk to the other teams about working together to eliminate Mike and DeAngelo. I don’t know how much more of them I can take.”
There are twenty-three lounge chairs on the deck of the heated indoor pool at our hotel in Kunming, and each chair has seven slats. That’s what...a hundred and fifty-ish slats? From there, I move on to counting foam chairs on the pool’s Baja shelf (five), lights in the ceiling (sixteen), and artificial topiaries (twelve) to keep from staring at Court’s eight-pack and the generous contents of his swim trunks while he and the other guys from the race play basketball in the deep end with a few tourist families.
I use “deep end” loosely—the pool is only four feet deep, causing Court’s trunks to cling to his groin every time he jumps for the ball...which he’s done at least two dozen times in the last five minutes.
I’m relaxing on the Baja shelf with the other Xtreme Quest women and unfortunately, I can’t turn my foam water chair around without being obvious. Instead, I scan the pool deck for more things to count until it’s time to head upstairs. Tonight is the first time since the race started that the teams are in separate rooms, and I’m kind of looking forward to?—
“Watch out!” Boyd hollers seconds before the basketball smacks my forehead.
Court is out of the water in an instant, rushing to my chair to inspect my face for damage. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
“I’m okay.” Well, aside from the torture of having his dripping-wet pecs inches from my face.
He lets out a relieved sigh but that doesn’t stop him from gently rubbing where the ball hit me. Although unnecessary, his concern is sweet. I start to say as much, but every word on my tongue evaporates the moment I gaze up at the blue-green irises I can still draw from memory. For a millisecond, I indulge in the fantasy of sinking my fingers into his hair and pulling his lips to mine. There’s no doubt he’d taste just as good, if not better, than he did all those years ago, but one, we’re surrounded by people, and two, indulging in said fantasy would have disastrous consequences.
Holding on to what’s left of my senses, I gently remove his hands from my cheeks and scooch over, putting several necessary inches between us. “I’m good. You can stop worrying.”
“Sorry, Hartley,” Boyd calls from the pool deck, the errant ball now tucked under his arm.
“Sorry yourself. It’s gonna take more than a kid’s toy to knock me out of the race,” I fire back playfully.
With a mischievous grin aimed my way, he says, “Challenge accepted,” and jumps feet first into the water to continue the game.
Court, on the other hand, stays rooted in place, so I nudge him back and push myself out of my chair before he can start assessing me all over again.
“Where are you going?” he asks, immediately rising beside me.
“To the restroom.”
“Come on, Mueller, we need you!” Mitchell says.
“Be right there.” He follows me as I walk to the lounge chair and secure my towel around my waist. “You sure you’re okay?”
“That thing is basically a rubberized beach ball. I promise I’m good.”
I glance back at Court when I reach the restroom and find Gianna locking elbows with him so they can jump into the deep end together. It’s fine. I mean, who cares if we exchanged in some flirty banter earlier today? He’s flirted with the Bombshells since day one, and he and Gianna are two consenting, single adults. If they want to...whatever, that’s fine by me.
Totally, completely fine.
I yank open the door and head to the first stall, hanging my towel from the hook so I can pee.
A few minutes later, I’m at the sink when Alexis breezes into the restroom with Nikki, one of the female crew members, in tow. The twenty-foot proximity requirement is relaxed after checkpoints, but we’re still chaperoned in isolated places when we aren’t wearing mics to ensure we don’t discuss Xtreme Quest matters with other teams.
“It looks like things between you and Court have been going better in the last couple of days,” Alexis says, leaning against an adjacent sink.
Unsure of where the conversation is going, I answer cautiously, “I haven’t wanted to strangle him, so I’d say that’s an improvement.”
“Has he talked to you about anything important recently?”