by Amy Vansant
“Thank you. But that’s the bit I wasn’t sure about. Can you get it on the air? Can you get it past Karen?”
Nicole nodded. “I don’t have to run the weather spots past Karen and she doesn’t check them. This will run and she won’t know until it’s too late.”
“Will it get you in trouble?” asked Emily.
Nicole shrugged. “It’s too funny. She’ll probably love it. If the rest of that scene with Greta went down the way you said it did, she knows she’s got a lame duck on her hands. This is better.”
Sebastian grinned. “Game. Set. Match.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Marc flopped into a folding chair in the hotel’s ballroom. They’d been told to gather for the next challenge, but things weren’t ready. He lost himself musing about Ashlyn...
“Hey, Marc.”
Marc snapped from his daydreaming to find Greta standing in front of him, smiling. She wore her trademark plunging neckline and his gaze dropped from her face to her cleavage and back again several times before he could stop himself.
Shoot. I’m going to have to work on that.
“Hey,” he said, finally locking on her eyes.
“I saw you with the goats. It was pretty impressive how you man-handled them. Have you worked with goats before?”
“Huh?” Greta had eased into a chair beside him and leaned forward, but even as her cleavage grew close, he found he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. Something’s wrong with her eyes. They were droopy or something. Like she was trying to hypnotize him.
“The goats. You seemed to know what you were doing with them,” she repeated, placing the tips of her fingers on his knee.
He stared at her hand. “Huh? Uh, no. Not really. I just picked them up and ran.”
“They’re heavy though, aren’t they?” She reached out and touched his arm as if she was concerned for him. He knew the routine. He’d had women touch him like this his whole life—girls in grade school, girls in high school, his mother’s friend when he was in college—it was a code he understood and one to which he usually responded readily. Normally, a woman flirting with him made him feel good, but something about Greta’s attentions didn’t feel right.
He recoiled from her touch under the guise of flexing a muscle. That’s how he would have responded had things felt normal. He would have flexed so she could see his muscles. He figured he could fake his way through the exchange.
Go with what you know. Show her the muscles.
“Not that heavy when you’ve got these puppies,” he said, flexing.
Greta giggled in an unnatural, girly way. She blinked. Much too slowly.
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked.
Greta straightened. “Whaddya mean?”
“Do you have something in your eye or something?”
“What? No.” She touched her lower lid with the side of her finger.
He shrugged and looked away. He felt her hand settle again on his knee. He wasn’t sure what to do. Usually, by this point he was already naked.
“Maybe after this challenge you’d like to have a drink up in my room?” Her voice sounded low and whispery.
Without turning, Marc grimaced. This is the first time I ever wished I wasn’t so damn good-looking.
As he turned, still formulating a way to not sleep with Greta, over her shoulder he spotted Ashlyn enter the room.
Suddenly, everything was clear.
That’s why this feels so wrong.
He smiled.
Greta smiled back at him.
“Not you,” he said, standing.
“What?”
“I’ve got to go. Good luck with your eye thing.” He patted Greta on the shoulder and headed for Ashlyn, feeling giddy.
“There isn’t anything wrong with my eyes,” Greta called after him.
He ignored her. He couldn’t move away from Greta fast enough. He didn’t want Ashlyn to think—
He stopped.
Oh my god.
I think I love Ashlyn.
He changed the course of his path and headed for Emily, who stood in the middle of the room talking to Sebastian.
“Hey, Em.”
Emily flashed a smile. “Hey Marc. About last night, thanks for being a good sport—”
“Yeah, yeah, look, I’ve got a problem.”
Sebastian looked at him and Marc felt his face grow hot. He grabbed Emily’s arm and dragged her away from her boyfriend.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you in front of him.”
“Why?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Yikes. Okay. What’s up? Or, maybe this is about what’s not up. Is that why you’re embarrassed?” She glanced down at his crotch and whispered. “Was there a problem with Ashlyn last night?”
“What? No.”
“Oh. Sorry. What’s up then?”
Marc glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot. “It’s Ashlyn.”
“What about her? You’re not mad at her for being in on the trick, are you? She was just doing us a favor—”
“No, no. It’s...” His voice left him. It was too embarrassing. He couldn’t say it.
“What?”
He took a deep breath and tried again. “I...Ashlyn...it’s just—”
“Spit it out, man.”
“I think I love her.” He slapped his hand over his mouth.
Too loud. I said that too loud.
Emily smiled. “Really? That’s great. I mean, it’s great, right?”
He bit his lip. “That’s the thing. I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before. Not really. I mean, Greta was just shoving her boobs in my face and I didn’t even care.”
Emily arched an eyebrow. “Well, hell, it must be love then. Those things are weapons-grade.”
“Is it? It has to be, right? What do I do?”
“What do you mean what do you do? It’s not like you just contracted a disease. Just go and see if she likes you too and if she does I imagine the rest of it will work itself out.”
He nodded. “Right. Right. Okay. Right.” He slapped her on the side of her upper arm. “Cool. Good talk.”
“Happy to help.”
Marc turned and scanned the room in search of Ashlyn. Just as he spotted her, Joe stepped in his path.
“Hey.”
Marc put on the breaks to keep from knocking Joe over. “Hey. I gotta get going, dude, I—”
“You should be careful today.”
Marc scowled. “Huh? Are you threatening me?”
“No, the opposite. You blew-off Greta. You’re like my hero.”
“I blew her off?”
“Yes. Did you not even know it? God, it must be amazing to be you.”
Marc shrugged.
“What are you two up to?” Kady appeared at Marc’s elbow.
“Marc just blew-off Greta when she was trying for him hard. She’s pissed.”
Kady looked at Marc, approvingly. “Good job.”
Marc craned his neck, trying to spot Ashlyn past the two rambling people blocking his path.
Joe continued. “Greta came over to me muttering about what a jerk Marc is and immediately called her aunt.”
Marc nodded his head in the hopes Joe and Kady would think he was listening until his gaze locked on Ashlyn. She was talking to her sister, laughing, flashing that cute little dimple in her cheek—
Joe shifted to the right, blocking his view.
Marc scowled. “Dude—”
Joe pointed and Marc followed his gesture to Greta, standing in the corner, phone at her ear.
“Did you hear me? She’s calling her aunt on you,” said Joe.
Marc lifted his palms to the air. “So?”
Kady huffed. “We’re not allowed to have cell phones during competition. She could at least try and hide that she’s cheating. You think she’s trying to get Marc yanked off the show?”
Joe nodded. “Yes. Her aunt
gave her a playbook to all the events so she can prepare for sabotaging whoever she wants. I think she’s getting the okay to take you out.”
Marc sighed. Ashlyn spotted him staring and grinned at him. He grinned back. He could hear the dull buzz of Joe and Kady talking, but didn’t care. He moved past Joe and started for Ashlyn again.
Before he could get five steps, Nicole’s voice echoed throughout the room. “Everyone gather here please.”
Marc’s shoulders dropped as Ashlyn and the others headed for the center of the room. He’d lost his chance to get her alone.
When everyone assembled, Nicole raised her hands above her head. “I’d like you to give a warm welcome to the Baltimore Oriole!”
The mascot for the Baltimore Orioles baseball team bounded into the room wearing a patchwork quilt of a jacket covered in familiar Maryland logos and symbols. He frantically waved his wings and gave Nicole a smothering hug.
“The Oriole Bird will be walking around the room. You have to paint your own personal statue of him. Last one done will be eliminated. Only one person from each team will be painting. Pick the person and go!”
There was a loud explosion and the room burst into a frenzy of chatter as the couples decided who from each team would paint.
Marc spotted Ashlyn bolting toward the table where the Oriole statues for painting awaited their makeover.
“I’ll paint,” said Kady.
“No.”
Marc blocked her with his arm and then winced. I didn’t mean to yell that.
Kady looked taken aback. “Okay. Jeeze. I didn’t know you were psycho for arts and crafts. Go ahead.”
Marc ran to the table. Greta had taken the spot next to Ashlyn, so he hip-checked Emily to take a position across from Ashlyn. It was better that way. Then he could stare right at her.
He caught her eye and she smiled one of those blushy little smiles girls did when they liked a guy.
He felt his heart melt into a puddle.
The Oriole Bird danced and bobbed around the table as the couples tried to reproduce him in art.
Marc’s first instinct was to continue watching Ashlyn, but somewhere in the back of his head he heard the echo of Joe’s warning.
Greta’s trying to get you kicked off...
If Greta had him booted, he might never see Ashlyn again.
Marc grabbed a brush and got to work. He’d always been a pretty good artist, so he felt confident about his chances. He painted until he saw the lady chef and Emily running for the judge, neck and neck, painted statues in hand. He heard a bell and knew both passed.
That left Greta, Ashlyn and himself.
He noticed Greta glance at Ashlyn from the corner of her eye.
What was that?
Greta and her eyes. He realized now her droopy lids earlier had been what had been described to him before as “bedroom eyes.” But this shifty look in Ashlyn’s direction, that was something different...he’d seen it before...
Jealousy.
That’s when it hit him.
Greta isn’t after me. She wants to get rid of the competition.
She’s after Ashlyn.
He stopped painting. “Ashlyn—”
Before he could warn her, Greta knocked a bowl of dirty paint water in the direction of Ashlyn’s statue.
He watched, helpless, as Ashlyn scrambled to steady her Oriole in an attempt to keep it clean. She bobbled it in what seemed like slow motion. Marc reached out, trying to grab it, but it was too far away. It flipped into the air and fell.
He heard it shatter on the ground.
Ashlyn dropped and disappeared.
Marc squatted to peer at Ashlyn beneath the table. She was on her knees on the ground, cradling what remained of her statue. It had split into several large pieces, the corner of its snapped beak still smirking, oblivious to the disaster.
She blinked at him, eyes glistening with tears. “I lost.”
No.
Marc shook his head. “Give it to me.”
“What?”
“Trade. Here.” He thrust his statue at her and snatched a chunk of hers.
“No—I can’t let you do this.”
“It’s okay. I can’t win anyway. We know the people in charge.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. We basically work for Channel Six.”
“You do?”
He hadn’t heard he couldn’t win because he knew Sebastian whose brother was married to Nicole, but it sounded good.
“Yeah. Come on. Go. I think mine’s done. Take it up there.”
The bell rang and Marc looked to Ashlyn’s left. Greta’s feet were gone. She’d turned in her statue.
“Go. Don’t wait for me. Go on.”
Ashlyn smiled, her expression soft and loving. “You’re a good man.”
She stood and Marc remained under the table a moment.
No one’s ever called me a good man before.
He grinned.
Marc gathered the pieces of Ashlyn’s statue and crawled from beneath the table to follow her path to the judge.
Ashlyn stood before Nicole, her hands trembling as she handed over Marc’s statue.
Nicole looked at Marc.
“You gave Ashlyn your statue. Are you sure?”
He nodded.
Marc placed the broken Oriole on the table.
Nicole put her hands on her hips. “Marc, I’m afraid you’re last and unfinished. You have been eliminated.”
The Minefield explosion boomed.
Marc nodded and turned to leave.
“But wait!”
The explosions again.
Marc stopped.
Nicole continued. “This was a double elimination round. Ashlyn, I’m afraid you’ve also been eliminated.”
Ashlyn’s face grew pale as the explosions boomed a third time.
Marc threw his arms around her. “Can I give you a ride home?”
She sniffed and laughed, a huge snot bubble growing on her nose.
It was adorable.
Chapter Thirty
Marc and Ashlyn had starting kissing the moment they’d lost the competition.
“I guess that cat’s out of the bag,” mumbled Kady.
Sebastian strolled to Nicole while Kady and Emily said their goodbyes.
Nicole glanced up at Sebastian as he approached. “Yes?”
“I was thinking—”
“Uh oh.”
“—After seeing the Oriole here, it makes me wonder. Why did you call the show Minefield?”
Nicole shrugged. “Why not? I thought it was catchy.”
“But shouldn’t the name have been more regional? Like the Chesapeake Challenge?”
Nicole blinked at him. “So you’re the reality show pro now?”
“No, I just—”
She dismissed him with a wave. “The finals are going to start in two hours. Don’t go filling up on food or booze. I don’t want you barfing.”
Sebastian scowled. “The finals? I thought we were here for another two days?”
“So did I. After the big boss got the bill for the helicopter, the egg gun build and the ant removal-slash-landscape replacement, he decided he didn’t want to pay for any of your hotel bills anymore. We’re speeding up the timeline. Hence the double elimination.”
Sebastian grimaced. “Whoops. Well, the ants were your husband’s fault, not mine. Don’t forget that.”
“Oh I won’t.”
Sebastian returned to Emily.
“The finals are in a couple of hours.”
“The finals?”
He told her the games had been cut short due to ant-attack bills and she laughed.
“You managed to find a way to cut our stay short after all.”
He smiled and took a step behind her to slip his hands around her waist.
“Soon we’ll be home. You know what that means.”
“I get to go back to wearing my sweatpants?”
“Sure. That. And I’m going to—�
�� He stopped.
Emily stretched her neck to look back at him. “You’re going to what?”
He sighed. “I don’t know now. I don’t want to be crude, but telling you I’m going to make love to you all over the house sounds really corny in my head.”
“Out loud too.”
“See?”
“Do it. You can say we’re going to do it all over the house.”
“Do it? What are we, eighth graders?”
“Ew, please tell me you weren’t having sex in eighth grade.”
He chuckled. “I guess you get the idea. And by all over the house I mean in the bed.”
“Oh thank goodness. Floors can be tough on spines.”
“Agreed. And counter tops in movies always seem to be exactly the right height, but not in real life.”
“Deal. Bed it is.”
He kissed her on the top of her head and wondered where she’d been all his life.
The remaining teams—the chefs, Joe and Greta and Sebastian and Emily—took a bus to the final event. A large walled structure had been erected in an abandoned parking lot. A wall painted to look like castle stone ran nearly the length of the lot. Three arched doorways marked the center. In front of the wall, sat tall lifeguard chairs on platforms.
Sebastian eyed the chairs and then looked at Emily.
“I’m not sitting up there.”
“Afraid of heights?”
“Not a fan.”
“What if they’re filled with ants?”
“Only if there are chiggers, too.”
Emily laughed. “Hopefully they’ll let us choose. I can do the chairs.”
“Welcome to the Minefield finale!” said Nicole as they gathered in front of her.
“One member of your team will sit in the chairs you see here. That member will coach their teammate through the maze that sits on the other side of this wall. The rats in the maze will have to avoid traps—only your guide can get you through alive!”
“Alive?” said Sebastian.
Emily patted his arm. “I’m sure she’s being dramatic.”
“Choose the partner for the chair!” screamed Nicole.
After a minute of conversation amongst the contestants, Emily, Jasmin and Greta stepped forward for chair duty.
“All the ladies?” said Nicole.
“Would you trust a man to explain something to you?” asked Jasmin.
“I heard that,” said Andre.