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I bounce on the balls of my feet, rubbing my palms together. “Yeah, yeah. Make sure I’ve kicked his ass by the time we reach the final platform. Got it.”
George’s smile widens before heading for the ladder that will take him back to ground zero. “I’ll meet you both back at the clubhouse once you’re finished. Have fun.”
We approach the two parallel cables, stretching from this point to the next, and ready ourselves to race.
“Don’t look so sure of yourself,” Logan goads after attaching the carabiner on his harness to the safety hook above his head.
His expression shifts from the permanent scowl he’s worn since we arrived to something lighter, something borderline playful.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what a dirty little cheater you are.” My belly flips when I poke the center of his chest, remembering how he used to distract me so he could win whatever game we were playing.
He scoffs. “I’m not going to let you win, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I’m implying that if you’d like your balls to remain intact, you better not throw me off on purpose.”
“Tell you what. Since my body parts seem to interest you so much, why don’t I pencil in some ‘ball fondling’ time for you when we get back to the office?”
The arrogant wink he gives when my mouth pops open comes too naturally for a couple of strangers.
“In your dreams, buddy.”
I swear I hear him mumble, If you only knew, but I’m already at the edge of the platform, preparing to bolt the minute the guys give us the cue.
“Why don’t we spice things up with a little wager?” Logan says when we’re instructed to squat and wait for the green light on the opposite end of the line.
“As if working for you isn’t torture enough?”
His eyes wrinkle with amusement, and god, I hate that stupid grin.
“If I win, I get to take you on a date.” Heart hammering, I sputter to force the refusal from my throat, but he cuts me off with, “Wherever and whenever I want. No questions asked.”
Surely he’s fucking with me? There are a million and one things Logan could ask for—my mouth permanently duct-taped or a manicure for my mangled nails for starters—but he chooses something as intimate as a date?
“Fine. But only because your idea of a date is probably something lame, like a late night at the office.”
Logan sits back on his heels, and I mimic the motion. The men at our backs grab our harnesses and a renewed wave of adrenaline courses through my veins.
“Time’s ticking.” Eyes flashing with a devilish gleam, he drawls, “Care to make a counter bet, or would you prefer to be at my mercy?”
I glance at my sore, blistered feet dangling above the misty forest floor in a pair of Adventure Park Crocs. “If I win, I will wear whatever I want to the office. And no more high heels.”
“Pity,” Logan tsks, facing the course ahead. “They do wonders for your ass.”
My jaw drops, but he’s gone in a blink as the light switches from red to green, and the man at his back pushes him forward.
“I said no cheating!”
His laughter drifts through the treetops as I kick my legs out and race after him.
Wind smacks my cheeks, the forest floor blurs beneath me, and the ziiip of the hook above my head accelerates the excitement rip-roaring through me as we glide through the forest.
Logan reaches the second platform before I do and unhooks himself before sprinting to the next. We’re neck and neck, racing and traveling through the air over valleys, parted by a bubbling stream, but the farther into the jungle we go, the harder it becomes to catch him.
“So, I’m imagining this date,” he says, raising his voice when he’s half-way across a wood-slatted rope bridge, “and there you are, wooed by my endless charm and hanging on my every word. But I just can’t get the details of your dress right.”
“Probably because it’s never going to happen,” I mutter to the pit below, brimming with lustrous plant-life and striking, multi-hued flowers.
My palms sweat as I cling to the rope bridge, at least ten steps behind him, and he has the audacity to stop at the other side, watching me thoughtfully.
