The names had been their father’s idea.
And if they’d lived in the seventeenth century, they probably would have been very much like their namesakes. Their father had nurtured a passion for adventure in all of his sons. And that adventure always involved activity that was athletic, daring, and even at times dangerous.
But when Clarke was born, his mother insisted on naming him. Hence, the name Leo.
No one in the racing world called him by his first name. Not for many, many years now. That, too, could be laid at the feet of Ceci Rivers. Whenever she referred to him, it was always Clarke Kent. Somewhere along the way, other people picked up on it and began calling him Clarke. He never corrected them, so the name stuck. Maybe he should have. But then he kind of liked it.
Biting his lip, he let out an exasperated breath as he crossed his arms, annoyed by that fact.
Athos folded his arms. “He did more than agree to the bet. He was the one to put it out there.”
Aramis nodded. “After that rant he went on about Silverstone, after seeing her.”
Porthos frowned. “Was it a rant? It didn’t really sound like a rant.”
“For him,” Athos said, dismissively, “it was a rant.”
“I never would have suggested the bet if the three of you hadn’t needled me.”
Porthos puffed out his chest. “What? By saying you’re afraid of the girl?”
Athos shook his head. “That’s all it took.”
“Okay, but I was talking about confronting her about Silverstone. I didn’t say anything about making a move on the girl.”
Athos crossed his arms. “No, you didn’t. That would be Aramis.”
Aramis looked at each of them in turn, smiling proudly.
Athos sighed. “Coming from anyone else, I would have found the suggestion surprising, even weird. Because how you’re supposed to confront the girl about Silverstone and get any satisfaction from doing so by making a move on her is beyond me. But then it came from Aramis and, as we all know, his mind is like a steel trap when it comes to pussy.”
Clarke opened his mouth to speak, but Athos held up his hand.
“And yet, that didn’t give you pause. I was prepared to say it made no sense, but you jumped on it before I got the chance. Therefore, you agreed to the terms of the bet. The first one who makes a move on the girl wins. The loser will have to attend the charity auction. And as you’ll recall, you were going up against the three of us. So, if any one of us made a move before you did, you would lose.”
Clarke groaned. Everything they’d said was true.
Athos placed his hands on Clarke’s shoulders and stared at him intently. “Why do you let that girl get to you? And I mean off the track as well as on it.”
“Yeah,” Porthos bellowed, “she’s tiny. You can’t be afraid of a girl that tiny.”
Aramis nudged Porthos. “Remember Katie?”
Porthos blinked. “Oh, yeah.” He paused. “I’d forgotten about her.”
“And Tinkerbell,” Aramis added. “She was really tiny. Was she even five feet? Such a cute girl, but if she got mad—”
Porthos shuddered. “Terrifying.”
There was a moment of silence.
Suddenly gasping, Aramis and Porthos faced each other and cried in unison, “The twins!”
“Oh man,” Porthos said, his voice trembling. “They were really scary.”
“Michael scary,” said Aramis.
“Jason scary,” added Porthos.
