His mind was still foggy, but now certain other parts of him were awake. “I already am,” he grumbled into his pillow.
Elizabeth harrumphed and left the room. Without her presence, Will was finally able to get himself under control. By the time she returned, he was plotting his revenge.
As they drove into the Camp Warwick parking lot, Will spied the banner that finally clued him in.
“The Warrior Dash Mud Run?” he asked drily. “That’s your idea of a dirty date?”
Elizabeth laughed gaily as she whipped the car into a parking space. “This is everyone’s idea of a dirty date, Will.” She put the car in park and leaned over to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’ll love it, I promise. Besides, it’s for charity.” Then she all but leapt from the car in eager anticipation.
“Okay,” Will said, emerging from the car and folding his arms across his chest, “let’s place a wager on the outcome.”
Elizabeth arched a single eyebrow. “What kind of wager?” she demanded eagerly as she locked the car and closed her door.
“The winner is the one of us who crosses the finish line with the best time.”
She considered that. “You’re much faster than I am.” She glanced over at the grounds. “But there are obstacles . . .”
“Hey, this is your race. I don’t even know what to expect, since you didn’t prepare me.”
She shrugged and nodded. “Okay. What are the stakes?”
Will’s expression grew cocky. “Whoever finishes second has to . . .” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. Her eyes grew wide and she pulled away, averting her eyes.
“Win-win, then,” she replied, attempting to play it cool but thoroughly discomposed. Such efforts were fruitless in any case, as a deep red flush was rising to color her face and neck. Will grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Don’t mess with the bull, baby,” he said glibly, “or you’ll get the horns.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
As they walked towards the check-in to receive their numbers for the race, Will took Elizabeth’s hand. She squeezed it, still too embarrassed to look him in the eye, and he wondered, not for the first time, how she could be so entirely confident and competent in every area of her life but be so shy about her body. She had told him she wasn’t a virgin, but honestly, she might as well have been. He’d never been able to make a woman blush like this merely from a suggestion, and he found he rather liked it.
He smiled as he recalled him teaching her a few ballroom dances. She was athletic and had taken to them quickly, if not with ease. She may not have been the most accomplished dancer he’d ever partnered, but with Elizabeth in his arms, the dances just made sense. His mother had always said that being fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love, and he thought he finally understood what she’d meant. His feelings for Elizabeth were deep and powerful. They frightened him a little, to be honest. But he still wasn’t sure she felt the same. If running in the mud would help her make up her mind in his favor, so be it.
Elizabeth handed him a bib with his number, and they moved to the holding area near the starting line. Their wave was the first and would begin in about thirty minutes, so Elizabeth started to stretch. He ought to stretch too, he thought, but it was difficult not to watch her raise her bottom in the air as she touched her toes. Instead, he tried to read over the map. It was a 5K course with twelve obstacles, several of which took them directly into the mud. He rubbed the back of his neck. The running was no problem, but some of these obstacles would absolutely slow him down. His height would be an advantage for a few, but he was a good fifty pounds heavier than Elizabeth, maybe a little more. That meant more trouble moving through the muck. He shrugged and jogged in place a bit before beginning his own stretches.
He was a little taken aback when Elizabeth grabbed his hand and led him into the group of runners massing at the start. He’d assumed she’d want to get a better starting position than him. As the horn sounded and the group began, he trotted to the first obstacle, the Fisherman’s Catch, and realized he’d entirely mistaken the purpose of the race. While some of the competitors were serious about their time, most were not just rushing through and moving on; they were turning back to help other competitors. Some of them were running in defined teams, and it struck him as he was reaching for the rings at the first stop that Elizabeth had meant them to be running as a team, too.
He saw a blue blur to his right and then, out of the corner of his eye, Elizabeth was away, swinging from one ring to the next like a monkey, legs swinging to help her momentum. As much as he enjoyed watching the lean muscles in her arms tensing as she moved from one ring to the next, he’d laid down a wager, and now he had to make every effort to win. He grabbed the rings and began to swing, slowly gaining on her.
Having easily completed the first obstacle, he caught up and ran alongside Elizabeth for a moment before giving her a pat on the head and moving past, his long legs eating up the ground as he reached the next obstacle, a giant slide named Goliath. He scrambled up the wooden frame behind it, and as he reached the top, he glanced back to judge Elizabeth’s position. She had paused about halfway up to call encouragement to a slighter woman just below her who seemed to be having trouble. He would have gone back down to assist, but there were swarms of competitors coming his way. He’d have to go down the slide just to get out of the way. He swung his legs over the top and dropped onto the slick plastic.
He jogged along a bit to the next obstacle, but Elizabeth was soon at his side.
‘You caught up quick,” he grunted.
“You have no idea, old man,” she replied, blowing past him and diving into the Pipeline, a tube constructed of rope. Will groaned and dove in after her, but the enclosed space was tight, and while Elizabeth could bend and scamper through relatively quickly, he had more trouble. She was out the other side and running hard a good thirty seconds before he extricated himself.
By the time they arrived at the halfway point of the run, Will pulled even again on an obstacle called the Warrior Summit, launching himself up the incline with a rope and long strides. He cruised through the next five obstacles, including the trenches and the mud mounds, reaching back to help those behind him, accepting help from those in front. Every so often, he’d see Elizabeth approach an obstacle as he was finishing. As Will ran, he could feel the mud splattering his face and chest, caking on his shoes, hardening in his hair, and found himself happy that Elizabeth had dragged him out of bed. He was having a great time.
The final obstacle, the Warrior Roast, was a thin line of fire about a foot and a half high followed by a mud puddle at least twenty feet wide and thirty feet long. Just beyond it was the finish. Will cleared the flames easily enough but stopped to help when the runner in front of him slipped in the water and went flying. It took a little longer than he thought, as the runner had fallen hard, and by the time he was ready to turn and finish the race, Elizabeth was leaping over the Roast and heading straight past him. She reached out to tag him mockingly, but he was faster, sticking out one arm to catch her.
“Oh no you don’t!” he yelled, grabbing for her waist.
Elizabeth hit his arm harder than he intended. She tried to recover as she lost her footing but wound up sprawling into the mud puddle face first, taking Will with her. He heard the whoosh of air being forced out of her as he landed flat on his back. Water splashed up over his face, into his mouth and nose. He sat up spluttering, grabbed the back of her shirt and hauled her out of the water.
“What the . . .” she coughed, her face streaked with mud and dirty water. A large clump of mud was making its way down her neck and she swiped at it. “Unsportsmanlike conduct, Darcy!”
He laughed at the sight of her as he sat up. “No way are you taking advantage of my good Samaritan act to sneak past me and win.”
She glared at him. “Fine,” she said, scooping up a handful of mud and shoving it in his face. As he spat it out, Elizabeth leapt up and ran
for the finish. Will stuck one hand out blindly, coming up only with her shoe as she ran through the puddle without it.
“Damn,” Will cursed, and jumped up to chase her.
She had a bit of a lead on him now, and the finish was close. He put on a final burst of energy and caught her right at the line. He grabbed her as they crossed together, Elizabeth laughing so hard she could hardly stand up and Will in only slightly better shape. The volunteers at the end handed them their medals and rolled their eyes.
“Keep this area clear, please,” an older woman said, shaking her head and gesturing with her thumb to the bleachers some way behind her. “The showers are over there if you want them.”
“First,” Elizabeth gasped, knee bent, socked foot lifted behind her, “I need my shoe.”
“Bleachers,” chuckled Will, watching Elizabeth hop away between a number of other finishers. “You know your sock is already muddy, right?” he called sarcastically.
“Oh,” she said, shrugging and putting her foot down. She walked to the bleachers and sat on the lowest bench. “My shoe, sir?” she asked, extending her leg. She wiggled her toes.
Will crouched in front of her and took her foot gently in one hand, caressing it, leaning in, sliding the shoe on her foot as his lips hovered just above hers. Elizabeth moved to meet the kiss but suddenly drew back, screeched, and stood up.
“Mud!” she screamed, laughing, grabbing at her foot and trying to yank the shoe off. “You filled it with mud!”
Will had wrapped the laces around the sole and then double-knotted them in record time. He stood to the side admiring his handiwork as Elizabeth worked on the wet, filthy knot. Finally, she was able to remove the sodden shoe, tapping the toe with the palm of her hand, tipping it over, and watching the mud slowly drip out, landing on the asphalt with a “plop.” She dug in with her hand to clear out the rest, rubbing her muddy foot on her leg before shoving the shoe back on her foot.
“Okay,” she said, nodding sagely. “Now I know who I’m dealing with.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “You’d better watch your back, Mr. Darcy.”
Will raised an eyebrow in imitation of her. “I am not afraid of you.” He lifted the medal hanging around his neck and scrutinized it. “What is this, exactly?”
Elizabeth looked at hers more closely and guffawed. “It’s a medal and a wall mountable bottle opener.” She met his eyes and smiled, and Will found himself wishing they were alone in his shower at home. “They know their audience.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him forward.
“Where are we going now?” he asked, bemused.
“There’s a whole festival to explore,” Elizabeth said, then turned, reached up, and patted his cheek. “Besides, we have to pick up our free beer and fuzzy Viking hats.”
“I will never live this down,” Will groaned, looking at the Polaroid photos they’d been handed. Will had thought Elizabeth was joking about the Viking hats, but she’d been in earnest. Red, fuzzy, with horns. And a beer. At ten in the morning because, Elizabeth had said flippantly, it was lunchtime somewhere. And all of this was commemorated in two instant Polaroid photographs.
They wandered for a while, Elizabeth only finishing half her beer before tossing the rest and showering. After they were both clean, they changed into their race t-shirts, bought some food, and listened to some music before stopping by the shoe recycling tent where Elizabeth dumped her trainers.
“They’re done for, I’m afraid,” she said, tying them together and tossing them on the pile.
Will felt a little guilty about that. “I’ll buy you new ones,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
She waved him off. “Nah, they were old. Don’t worry about it.”
Will didn’t say anything, but he knew the shoes weren’t old. She’d barely broken them in, and they weren’t cheap. Though she always looked good, she didn’t spend a lot of money on her clothes. But she didn’t skimp on her shoes.
“Early birthday present. C’mon,” he cajoled, “you know you want to go shoe shopping with me.”
“You don’t need to get me anything for my birthday, Will. My family’s never done presents,” she said off-handedly.
He clutched at his heart dramatically. “No presents?” She laughed, and he dropped his hand. “I think the world would literally stop rotating on its axis if Georgiana didn’t get at least three gifts from me on her birthday. Expensive ones.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Uncle Ed and Aunt Maddy buy for the kids, but once you’re eighteen, you’re sort of on your own,” she said. “I aged out of the system.” She shrugged. “I get birthday cards, which is fine. Aunt Maddy always writes something nice. And if they have a gift to give, it doesn’t have to wait for the birthday.”
Will tilted his head, pretending to be puzzled. “So you don’t want to go shoe shopping with me? I just don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”
“I’d go anything shopping with you, Will,” she replied. Her face showed her horror that she had been so honest, and she tried to recover. “I mean, except for, um . . .”
“Don’t try to amend that statement,” he commanded. “Just agreeing to go shopping at all is a big concession from me. Take the win.”
“I may as well take that win,” Elizabeth scoffed, back in form. “You stole my race win.”
Will shook his head, incredulous. “I was way ahead of you, Bennet. You had no chance.”
“I was passing you, and you practically tackled me!” Elizabeth cried, eyes alight.
“Give it up, Marine. You tried to gloat, and you were properly taken down.”
Elizabeth stopped walking to place her hands on her hips and glare at him. “What was that little head pat at the beginning of the race? That wasn’t gloating?”
Will shook his head solemnly. “That was a love tap.”
“Love tap, my . . . donkey,” Elizabeth muttered.
Will blinked. “What did you just say?”
“Donkey,” Elizabeth replied hotly. “You know, it’s another word for . . .”
“I know what it’s another word for,” he said with a snort, tossing his still damp hair back from his forehead. “Why did you use donkey instead?”
Elizabeth frowned. “I can’t swear.”
Will laughed out loud at the petulant look on her face. “Are you telling me you’re physically incapable of swearing? You were in the Marines for six years.”
She made a disgusted sound in her throat. “I didn’t say it was easy.” Will continued to stare at her, waiting for an explanation, and she huffed. “I lost a bet.”
“Oh really?” Will asked gleefully. “And when did this earth-shattering event occur?”
Elizabeth sighed. “A few days before I moved into my apartment.”
Will was a bit surprised he hadn’t heard about it. “And may I ask who you lost to?”
“Aunt Maddy,” Elizabeth said with a scowl.
“What was the bet?” Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I need to know this. It’s vitally important.”
She stopped, removed her Viking hat, and buried her face in it. She said something that Will couldn’t understand, muffled as it was.
“Beg pardon?” he said lightly.
Elizabeth tried to scowl, but she couldn’t hold it. “She out-ate me.”
Whatever Will had expected to hear, it wasn’t this. He blinked. “She what?”
“A hotdog eating contest,” Elizabeth sighed. “She challenged me, and I mean, look at her! She’s tiny. I thought I would beat her easy.” She glanced at Will ruefully. “If I won, I was promised a gym membership. If I lost, I had to go one full year without swearing.” She rubbed her forehead, “I guess I’d gotten pretty bad about it. The Marines consider swear words a normal part of the lexicon.”
“How many hotdogs did she eat?” Will pressed, entertained beyond belief at the notion of the petite Maddy Gardiner hiding such a talent.
“Nineteen. And a half. In five minutes.”
Will coughed in shock. �
��That is seriously impressive.”
Elizabeth sighed theatrically. “Gifted. She’s gifted, Will.”
Will imagined being in the Gardiners’ kitchen as Maddy ate one hotdog after another, and Elizabeth began to realize she’d been had. “This is good stuff, Bennet,” he burst out exultantly. “I can dine out on this for years.”
“That was a terrible pun.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as they fixed on him. “One year. Well, a little less now.”
“And you’ll hold up your end?” Will asked skeptically. He leaned in. “Will you be able to avoid calling me an ass?”
“Don’t tempt me, Will,” she retorted with a smirk. She paused to take her hair down, shaking it out as it unfurled. “I have already messed up twice. But I’m trying.”
“I might have to inform Maddy to reset the clock,” he started to say, but was distracted for a moment as he watched her hair tumble down her back.
Elizabeth punched his arm, forcing him to focus on her. “Donkey,” she said.
Will had gone out for food again, and Elizabeth was surfing the Internet searching for more easy recipes. He’s spending a fortune on take-out, she clucked. When her phone buzzed, she set down her laptop, stretched out on the sofa near the glass doors to the terrace, and glanced at the screen. Warrior Dash? it read.
“Richard!” she cried, and then typed, How did you know?
The Post.
He forwarded a link, and she followed it to a picture of Will, face still streaked with mud, kneeling in front of her, about to replace her shoe. She had a large smear of mud running down her neck and arm. He was leaning in, appearing for all the world as though he were about to kiss her. Her heart began to pound, and she felt a cold sweat on the back of her neck. She hadn’t even seen the photographer this time. She peered at the picture. It wasn’t sharp, like the previous photo had been. A phone camera, she thought, feeling exposed. Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Bennet?
She blinked and typed: Here.
Improvise Page 22