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Thank God this was almost over—a week and some change and it would all be decided. And thank God Grant and Jo had handled most of my fundraising. If I never had to ask for money again, it’d be too soon. Fortunately, Grant had more money than he could spend, so if I had to, I’d beg more off him. Well, I’d make Jo beg it off him. She had an advantage, seeing as how only one of us was sleeping with him, and thankfully it was not me. Not that Grant wasn’t a catch. He just wasn’t anything close to my type. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I knew what my type was anymore.
I didn’t think Duke was, but here I was counting the seconds until my body and his body were naked and in smash position. I still hated him, but I channeled all that betrayal and years of regularly scheduled voodoo into what I’d sworn to myself was meaningless sex. Or as meaningless as it could get with all our baggage. The truth was, it felt good. Not just being wanted, not just the physical release I’d had precious little of over the last ten-plus years. But it felt good to be in his arms, to bask in the shine of his smile. He had a knack for making me—and everyone else, for that matter—feel like they were the only important thing in the world. And as long as I didn’t think about the rest of it, I could enjoy all that without flinching.
I pulled up to the barn and headed inside to find it bustling with activity. For a moment, I stood in the doorway unnoticed, dumbstruck and humbled that all of this was for me. All these people came together to support me. I had an obligation to beat the hell out of Duke, not just for the town, but for everyone who worked tirelessly to secure my place. It crossed my mind that they might have big feelings if they found out I was fooling around with Duke, and a secondary guilt that the biggest feeling would be betrayal. But I didn’t know that I could stop myself.
Scratch that—I could stop myself if I wanted to. I just didn’t want to.
And I only had a glimpse of how it would ruin me.
16
SORE WINNERS
POPPY
All I could think about was how I’d gotten here.
Actually, all I was really thinking about in that exact moment, racing Duke down a strip of grass with a greased watermelon in my arms, was winning.
The crowd bracketing us cheered and screamed as we dashed past, fumbling with the slick watermelons. He was ahead of me, just far enough that he might beat me. So I dug deep, pushed hard, and…
Tripped.
A divot in the grass had proved to be my downfall, quite literally. I fell in what felt like slow motion, launching the watermelon into the air to hit Duke in the back hard enough to smash it. Hard enough to knock him off balance, and when the watermelon squirted out of his arms, he juggled it in one miss after another. From my horizontal twist on the ground, I saw him tip, then fall, landing chest-first on the fruit.
It burst like it’d been hit by a sledgehammer, which wasn’t far off. I knew every stone inch of his muscular chest and could confirm that it was capable of mass destruction. Watermelon shot out of either side of him, spraying the feet of the spectators unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the right time.
I couldn’t breathe, not because I’d had the wind knocked out of me, but because I was laughing so hard, my side stitched. Duke rolled onto his back, his hand flat on his wet, pink shirtfront. It bobbed with his laughter, his face turned up to the sky and smile bright, eyes closed like he was in a little pain.
I managed to half crawl over to him, swiping at the tears on my face.
“Oh my God,” I said through my giggling when I reached him. “Are you okay?”
“What do you care, Blum?” he asked without even one degree of heat. I half expected him to grab me, roll me over, pin me down, and kiss me. Sadly, that was not in the cards.
I flopped on my back next to him as people approached. Mike Stoeffel assessed us, tiny notepad in hand.
“We’ll call it a draw,” he said, then addressed the crowd. “The mayoral candidate pie-eating contest starts at the hour, and we’re tied. Looks like it’s going to be as close as the race, so any of y’all hoping to make a decision on your vote based on today might come up with a Plan B.”
Duke peeled himself off the ground and offered me a hand. When I rose, I saw just what a mess he was, covered in watermelon chunks, his shirt soaked and clinging to the hard lines of his body.
