“You’ll get ’em next time, Nutcracker.” Laine claps Teddy on the shoulder as he limps past. The Woods Winners are busy congratulating little Darla, but Rachel stops long enough to give me a predatory smile.
My blood runs cold. I drag our team into a huddle. “Okay, listen up, BV-ers. Wecannotafford to place second again.”
“We can’t?” Laine asks, her tone teasing.
“No!” I frown at her, hard.
“But we’re here to have fun, boss.” Her smile is so playful now I feel the urge to push her down and lick it off.
“That was before I had to seethat.” I thumb over my shoulder in a rough approximation of where Rachel still stands with her shit-eating smile. “Now it’s about total annihilation.Andteam building.”
Laine’s smile turns up a notch. “Well, you heard the boss, team!” We each put a hand in the middle, and on the count of three, yell, “B-V, BV-ERS!”
My pep talk must work because the BV-ers crush Chance, his wife Betsy, and one of their farmhands in tug-of-war. The moment Chance and Betsy fall into the dirt, Tristan and Laine do a running chest thump while Diego beats his pecs and crows at the sky. Rachel, now an alarming shade of fuchsia, marches up to her fallen teammates.
“Whatwasthat, Betsy?! I thought you taught Pilates!” Rachel yanks their team’s schedule out of Chance’s hands and begins scribbling furiously on it, then stomps over to the sign-in table, where a volunteer accepts Rachel’s substitutions with a look of mild concern.
“It’s working.” Laine points at Rachel. “Rachel’s gonna compete in every team event for the rest of the day. She can’t stand other people losing on her behalf. After this next event, you’ll have time to find a Rachel-free mayor.”
My eyebrows lift, impressed.
“Am I a genius yet?”
I squint in assessment. “You’re getting fives on your AP exams, but Mensa hasn’t called. Yet.”
Sure enough, as we line up for the balloon race, instead of Betsy and Chance competing against Laine and me, it’s nowRacheland Chance.
After a few seconds’ studying, it appears thegoalof the balloon race is to position a balloon between two people’s bodies without popping it, letting it fall to the ground,ordying of embarrassment.
“So, um.” I clear my throat. “How do we …” I motion between the two of us as we take our places at the starting line. A helpful teenager approaches with a basketful of balloons, takes one look at us and, grinning, presents us with the smallest one he has.
Laine gives me a sly wink. “Whatever it takes. Right, boss?”
She nestles the balloon in the dip between her breasts, then beckons me forward with a finger.
“Laine, I—”
“Want to win, don’t you?” Her eyebrows are raised, infuriatingly jolly. “That’s what I thought. Stop worrying about being professional and get over here.” Her voice this time is low, a command, and I step forward, willing myself not to gasp a little as I press my chest into hers, pinning the balloon in our wall-to-wall cleavage.
“This is obscene,” I whisper. She locks her arms under mine, clutching my body to hers. Slowly, I do the same. Can she feel my nipples hardening against the swell of her breasts? “How on earth do they let children play—” But I stop abruptly to turn and stare at Rachel and Chance, both horrified anddelightedto see how an adult sister and brother could possibly make this work. Rachel snagged the biggest balloon she could, which they’re currently trying to pin between their sides, but it keeps slipping out.
“Gotta go butt-to-butt, baby!” Teddy yells, to the crowd’s glee.
“She didnotthink this through,” I murmur while Laine shakes with laughter against me. Betsy must have the same thought, because she’s standing on the sidelines, smirk fully on display at her cursing sister-in-law.
“On yer marks, get set,GO!” an old-timer hollers, and we’re off. First with Laine jogging backward, hauling me with her, but it trips me up too much, so we move to a shuffling, sideways motion. She holds me so close, her pulse ticks against my flesh, the places where our bodies press together becoming slick with sweat in the day’s growing heat.
“That’s it—shuffle right, shuffle right.” Laine’s instructions come in between fits of our giddy, wheezing laughter. It’s impossible not to lose it with Chance and Rachel struggling to keep it PG next to us.
“Fine!” Rachel screeches when they’ve still barely managed a few steps forward. “Butt-to-butt!” Wide-eyed, Chance starts rolling the balloon carefully from his hip to his ass, which he’s stuck out at a ridiculous angle.
“Breathe!” Laine commands between her own sobs of laughter. “Zoe, you’re turning red! You’ve gotta breathe!”
“I don’t know if I—can,” I hiccup out, eyes streaming, “ever— breathe—again!”
“Stick your butt out, Chance, farther!Farther, are you—Chance!” Their balloon gets halfway around Rachel’s own ass before it pops loudly, speared by a brassy grommet on her jean shorts. “Dammit!”
“Woods Winners are deee-qualified!” the old-timer announces through his megaphone just as Laine and I fall cackling across the finish line. He gestures at us where we lay on the ground. “These here Eager BV-ers win!”
