Page 61 of Ex Marks the Spot
“We’ll just have to keep an eye on them,” she says. “And we definitely need to talk to the other teams about the alliance today.”
“Agreed. But back to what you wanted to tell me. What’s up?”
Before she can respond, the alarms on our digital watches go off, signaling that we need to meet up with the crew.
“Really?” she huffs, mashing the off button. “The one time I actually want to have a conversation with you and I get interrupted three times.”
I can’t resist the obvious pun. “Talk about shitty timing.”
She attempts a glower but quickly loses the battle and succumbs to a half smile as we gather our trash and mugs. “It’s a good thing you’re?—”
“Intelligent? Witty? Incredibly handsome?”
Her half smile ratchets into a full grin. “I was going to say, ‘My one hope of winning a million dollars or I’d leave your butt here.’”
“You’d miss my butt too much to leave it here.”
“Maybe I’ll keep your butt and leave the rest of you here.” She hooks her backpack on her shoulder and heads for the exit. I follow while slinging mine on.
“Is that so you can officially say your teammate is a total ass?”
“Pretty sure I already said that a few times at the beginning of the race.”
“And now?” I untwist her strap as I fall into step beside her.
“Eh, I guess you’re tolerable.”
“So what I’m hearing you say is that I don’t need to worry about you murdering me in my sleep anymore?”
Her eyes are bright with mischief when she glances up at me. “Murdering, no. Maiming is still on the table though.”
I snort a laugh. “Good to know.”
Today’s crew is waiting for us outside the main entrance of the hotel. We usually meet about ten minutes before our start time to get everything situated before reading our clue, except I’m not quite ready to go out there yet. I snag Hartley by the arm and pull her off to the side.
“What you wanted to talk about—are you okay? Is it urgent? Because if it is, we can start a couple of minutes late.”
She tips her head to the right as she studies me, the amusement on her face transforming into an expression of pleasant surprise. “I’m fine, and no, it’s nothing that can’t wait until tonight.”
“You sure?”
“I’m having flashbacks from the pool last night,” she quips. “It’s a personal thing, but it’s not urgent.”
I hold her gaze for a moment, then nod. Personal is good. Maybe she wants to share more about her family or what she’s been up to for the last six years. I need to as well, starting with the truth about my “chop shop” job. Just because it’s not where I saw my life going doesn’t mean I need to lie by omission. And if that discussion goes well, maybe it’ll pave the way to staying in contact after the race is over.
“Thanks for checking, though.” After a brief pause, she continues with, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were starting to care about me.” Her tone is playful and sarcastic, but her death grip on her backpack straps says otherwise.
Does shewantme to care about her? I mean, I could. It’s not like it would be hard to do. I might even care a little bit already.
“As we recently established, you’re my only chance at winning this race,” I say, tapping her on the nose. “I’m just making sure my teammate won’t be distracted all day.”
“Did you—did you just boop me?”
I lean in, crowding her space and enjoying the hell out of the way her breath catches. “You know the rules, Miss Billings. A gentleman never boops and tells.”
The one thing you can’t prepare for in this race is the waiting.
Case in point: Our start time was 7:42 this morning, but our flight to Nepal doesn’t take off until 12:30 in the afternoon. Hartley and I went from exhausted to energized after reading our first clue to tired all over again while we sat at the airport.