by Amy Vansant
A ripple of laughter ran through the group.
The ladies mounted the ladders that led to their perches. Show assistants scurried in moments later with padding, which they stacked around the structures so if someone fell off their chair, they wouldn’t be hurt too badly.
Sebastian watched them work and elbowed Andre. “Maybe we got the safer duty after all.”
Several of the staff headed in the men’s direction holding what looked like flak jackets and pads.
Andre frowned as they approached. “Or maybe not.”
By the time they’d wrapped Sebastian in his gear, he felt like an overstuffed snowman.
One of the assistants thrust something in his direction. “Here are your goggles.”
Sebastian studied the plastic swimmer’s goggles. They’d been painted black.
“I won’t be able to see through these.”
“That’s the point.”
“So we have to go through the maze blind?”
The man nodded, his brow scrunching with confusion. “Why would you need the ladies to talk you through the maze if you could see?”
Sebastian nodded slowly. “Okay. I see your point.”
“Gentlemen, take your places in front of your entrances.”
Sebastian waddled to the far-left door and glanced back at Emily, who sat, staring down at him. She gave him the thumbs up.
Nothing feels thumbs up about any of this.
“Put on your goggles!”
Sebastian slipped on his goggles and the world fell into darkness.
“On your marks, get set...go!”
Someone pushed Sebastian forward and he stumbled through the entrance to the maze, his hands reaching for the sides of the door to keep from falling. They’d pushed him a lot harder than they’d needed to. He whirled to face his overzealous helper, but saw only more blackness.
He grumbled quietly to himself.
You’re lucky, whoever you are.
The women were already calling directions. He turned and put his hands out in front of him and did his best to filter out the voices, save Emily’s.
“Sebastian, go straight three steps.”
He shuffled forward three steps.
“Three normal human being steps, not baby steps.”
Sebastian grimaced and took three normal steps forward. On the last stride his nose slammed into the wall and he jumped back, reaching for it.
“Hey,” he yipped.
Emily called down. “It was three steps before you took the baby steps, you have to allow for the baby steps if you’re going to start again. Turn left.”
Sebastian rubbed his nose and turned left.
“Go two normal steps forward.”
He took two steps forward, wincing as he took the last. Nothing reached out and punched him in the nose.
That was a step in the right direction.
He chuckled quietly at his own pun.
“Turn right.”
“How big is this maze? Can you see the end?”
“Yes. It’s big. Now concentrate.”
“I am concentrating. Concentrating on the blood that is probably pouring out of my nose.”
He heard Emily laugh. “Take a step and then turn right again,” she called.
He did.
“Now this part is very important—”
Sebastian braced himself.
“Sebastian, take two steps forward now. Quick! Hurry!”
Sebastian felt his heart race. There must be something coming up behind me. He leapt forward and heard a muffled explosion. Several objects pelted his body from what felt like every side. They hurt. A lot. He hunched, covering his head with his hands.
“Ow.”
The pelting stopped. Something smelled acrid in his nose. He could almost taste it.
“Sebastian, you’ve been claimed by the Minefield Maze!” Nicole’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
“What?” He pulled off his goggles to find himself covered in blue paint. The walls in front of him were open and men with paint guns stood behind them, grinning. He looked down and saw he was standing in a giant yellow square that said “Do Not Touch.”
“Why would you make me do that?” he called back at Emily. He could see her raise her hands.
“It wasn’t me. Greta called your name and rushed you forward.”
Sebastian shifted his gaze to the left. Greta took a moment from leading Joe through the maze to laugh and point at him.
He looked away, unwilling to give her the satisfaction
Chapter Thirty-One
Joe stared forward.
Through his goggles.
It had taken him a second to realize what was happening when he put on the goggles. At first he thought he was blind, which made sense. Greta was up in the chair to talk him through the maze, after all.
But his eyes soon found a spot on each lens where the blackness had been scratched away, offering him a limited, but workable view of the world.
He had a feeling the other contestants didn’t have little scratched-away areas on their glasses.
Greta had found a way to cheat again.
He could hear her calling to him from her perch behind him.
“Joe go forward. Joe! Go forward like two steps. Joe!”
He took two steps forward just to shut her up. He needed to think.
On one hand, she was right, I could use the money. It would be nice—
“Turn. Joe turn right. Will you listen to me?”
He turned right.
On the other hand, I don’t like winning this way.
He’d considered telling Nicole that the fix was on, but he didn’t know if she was involved. After all, Greta’s aunt was her boss. If she wasn’t trying to save the station money by paying him and Greta half the promised winnings, then telling her about the fix would put her in an impossible situation. Her options were pretty much stay quiet or get fired.
I wonder how much power Aunt Karen actually has at the station—
“Joe, I swear, if you don’t step forward one step—”
Joe’s head dropped and he spotted a large yellow square painted on the ground two steps ahead of him. It said “Don’t Touch.”
Somewhere behind him, he heard an explosion that almost made him jump onto the yellow square. He came up short and stopped.
“Good. Don’t go any farther forward,” bellowed Greta.
He heard Nicole’s voice over the loudspeakers. “Sebastian, you’ve been claimed by the Minefield Maze!”
Joe groaned. One down already. That was fast.
If Andre made one wrong move, he’d win by default.
Greta yelled so loud her voice cracked. “Joe! The chef girl is cheating. Be sure it is me giving you directions before you do anything.”
The chef girl is cheating? Greta’s got a lot of nerve—”
“Joe, this is Greta. Turn left.”
He turned left. It was impossible to think with everyone screaming.
Ahead of him, he saw another yellow box through the scratches in his goggles. He could see movement behind the walls around that area. The walls weren’t really walls there. There were people there, waiting to do something if he stepped on the yellow box.
“Joe, Andre is almost done. What are you doing? Move.”
Greta sounded desperate.
Eh. I don’t need the money that bad.
He took a deep breath.
I hope this doesn’t hurt too bad.
He ran forward on to the yellow square and ducked as a flurry of paint and eggs shot at him.
Explosions boomed from the loudspeaker.
“Joe, you have been claimed by the Minefield Maze!”
Joe pulled off his goggles and wiped the egg from his face, smiling. He looked up at Greta, who stood frozen, her mouth agape in horror.
He waved to her and then stopped. Even from a distance, he could see her anger building.
Her whole body seemed to bunch into a coiled ball of w
rath.
Without meaning to, he turned and searched for an escape route.
“No!”
Greta’s scream filled the air like a fog.
Joe saw the cameras surrounding him turn and focus on Greta.
“That was a mistake. Keep playing. He didn’t mean it!” Greta pointed at Joe, and it took everything inside of him not to dive for cover, as if her index finger could shoot laser beams.
“I’m sorry, Joe’s lost and has been eliminated,” said Nicole over the loudspeaker. Even her voice had lost its edge beneath the weight of Greta’s stare.
Greta’s face found a new shade of red as she stomped on her platform. Joe watched the structure sway to the left as Greta rocked with agitation.
“That’s not fair! He did it on purpose—I mean, not on purpose, but on accident—it doesn’t count!”
Nicole’s voice again tried to drown Greta’s wailing. “Joe has been disqualified, and the winner—”
“No! It isn’t fair, take it back—” Greta stepped forward, her arms flailing above her head as she attempted to wave away Nicole’s ability to declare the winner.
Greta stepped forward, her arms flailing above her head as she attempted to wave away Nicole’s ability to declare the winner. Her right foot shot forward and her eyes flashed, wide and white as golf balls. She’d slipped, and her head jerked back as if it were on a string. Her right leg flew toward the sky, her left following as if it couldn’t bear to be separated from its mate. A great whoop! filled the air until Joe couldn’t tell which noise came from Greta and which exploded from the shocked onlookers. He knew he, himself, had made a strange half-scream, half-gurgle as Greta began to fall.
Greta fell hard on her tush and bounced. Being so close to the edge, she slid butt-first forward, her weight tumbling over the edge of the platform as a collective gasp rose from the surrounding players and camera crew. She twisted, grabbing for purchase, finding only the streamers attached to the structure. One after the other ripped free as she clawed to stop her descent. A shower of red, white and blue followed her fall, adding an air of patriotic grandeur to her plunge.
Greta toppled, her leg hanging for a second on part of the frame. The force flipped her once more, forcing her to land face first in the cushions surrounding the platform. With a loud pop! the inflatable pillows gave way and deflated beneath the force of her fall. She sank, trapped with her posterior high in the air, face in the cushions. She thrashed, trying to right herself, unable to untangle from the undulating plastic.
The cameras rolled
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sebastian’s phone dinged as Emily and Sebastian headed for home.
“Check that for me?” he asked.
She grabbed his phone. “It’s a text from Nicole. Looks like it’s the first commercial for the show.”
“Any good?”
She hit the arrow and watched as Greta slid from the platform, screaming. No sooner did she hit the cushions, than it looped and she fell anew as a voiceover announced the new reality show.
Emily nodded. “Pretty good.”
The vehicle bumped and she looked up to find Sebastian pulling off the main road.
“Hey, this isn’t the way home.” She’d been surprised to find Garrett had brought Sebastian’s truck to them for the ride home, and now she had a feeling it was all part of a plan to which she’d not been privy. Hopefully, there would be no ants.
“Nope. We’re not going straight home. Things ended early so no one expects us home yet.”
“Where are we going?”
He grinned. “Somewhere no one can find us. We’re going to shut off our phones and have our real first date. Start from scratch.”
Emily smiled, overwhelmed by the sweetness of his gesture.
Wait.
First date?
She offered an exaggerated sigh. “That’s too bad this will be our first date. I don’t put out on the first—”
“Have our real second date,” he said, cutting her short.
She squelched a laugh, tickled he’d caught on so quickly. “Second? That seems fast.”
“Third?”
She considered. “Let’s make me look really virtuous and call it our tenth date.”
“Oh, I never would have waited that long.”
She laughed.
Tilting back her head she watched rural Eastern Shore Maryland roll by and took a moment to appreciate how well everything had turned out in the end. The Chefs would get their food truck, Greta’s plans had been foiled, playboy Marc might have found true love—Kady had even been asked out by one of the cameramen. Love and happiness all around.
And now maybe she’d finally get her alone time with Sebastian.
They pulled up to a grand estate, overlooking the water, much like the Cherry Lodge, but smaller and hopefully with less smoky staff. She gasped. “This is the Hopper Estate. It’s the one with the little gourmet restaurant inside.”
“Yep.”
“Oooh.” She shook with giddy excitement. “I always wanted to come here, but it’s consistently voted Most Romantic. It would be weird to show up alone.”
He shrugged. “You could have brought a life-sized doll.”
“Duh. Why didn’t I think of that?”
They clambered out of the car. Emily could barely keep herself from jumping up and down while he moved to pull their luggage from the trunk.
“So what sex games would you like to play?” he asked.
She stopped bouncing on her toes and snapped her attention to him. “What?”
“You know. I can be the Hey baby, I just got out of prison guy...”
She grinned. “Oh that sounds super sexy.”
“How about Hey baby, I just bought a deli, want to roll out of here?”
She groaned and took his free arm as they headed for the porch.
“Maybe we could just play the Hey, we’ve been waiting way too long for this to happen.”
He smiled.
“I could do that.”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Vansant is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today best-selling author specializing in fun, comedic reads about accident prone, easily distracted women with questionable taste in men.
So, autobiographies, mostly. Ha!
But seriously: She writes happy romantic comedies, mysteries and urban fantasies.
Amy is the former East Coast Editor of SURFER Magazine but the urge to drive up and down the coast interviewing surfers has long since left her. She's a dog-lover who works at home with her goofy husband and loves interacting with fans, so stop by her blog or Twitter and say hi!
Other Books by Amy Vansant
Pineapple Port Mysteries
Funny, clean mysteries full of unforgettable characters
Pineapple Lies (I) Pineapple Mystery Box (II)
Pineapple Puzzles (III) Pineapple Land War (IV)
Pineapple Beach House (V)
Kilty Romantic Comedy/Thrillers
Funny, suspenseful romances with a touch of time-travel
Kilty as Charged (I) Kilty Conscience (II)
Angeli Urban Fantasy
Thrilling adventures with a touch of romantic comedy
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br /> Angeli (I) Cherubim (II) Varymor (III)
Slightly Romantic Comedies
New Adult/Adult zany romantic romps
Slightly Stalky (I) Slightly Sweaty (II)
Other
The Magicatory (middle-grade fantasy)
Moms are Nuts (editor: humor anthology)
The Surfer’s Guide to Florida (non-fiction: out of print)