But you agreed to race with him, you ninny.
I sigh and rake a hand through my long waves. Yep, I did that. And now I can’t think of any reasonable way to get out of it with my pride intact. Besides, I can’t let down the chamber. My fellow business owners are counting on me to come through and support the organization by honoring my commitments. I’ve been a member ever since Sue-Ann’s opened its doors and my business relationships mean everything to me.
And if racing and keeping my word means keeping Max Monroe’s sexy ass and full lips at arm’s length, so be it.
“Are you ready?” he asks, breaking me out of my daydream about going back home, crawling into bed alone, and throwing the covers over my head.
I slap a black Sue-Ann’s ball cap with my logo inlaid with pink Swarovskis on my head and nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Spencer isn’t even going to know what hit him, Champ.” Max slaps me on the back and I pitch forward a bit. “We’ve got this shit in the bag.”
He’s so strong, but I ignore the swell of his biceps and the breadth of his shoulders. I especially ignore the sexy scruff lining his chiseled jawline. Gah, did he have to pick today not to shave? My fingers itch to reach out and test the softness of that beard growth compared to the hard lines of his muscles. At least I try to overlook all those things. But my ovaries? They haven’t gotten the message from my firing brain cells. Damn things squeeze and ache and swoon like two teenagers in the back seat of a rusted-out Chevy.
I hop up into the cab of Max’s Dodge Ram Extended Cab 4x4 and snuggle into the leather. He finds a country station on Sirius XM and sings along at the top of his lungs. With a sidelong glance, I admire the sinew of his forearms as he grips the wheel, and I’d bet those blue eyes are dancing behind the lenses of his mirrored aviators. He’s so damn upbeat all the time, and my mind drifts back to when I was twenty-five. I already owned Sue-Ann’s and had success and failure top-of-mind along with heavy financial burdens. I don’t remember ever being so carefree.
Max pulls into the parking lot of the Barnes & Noble on Miller Trunk Highway, the check-in point for the race, and parks as close to the balloons and streamers as he can. I stow some cash, my phone, and a lip balm in my pockets and ask Max if it’s okay for me to leave my purse under the seat locked up in his truck.
“Sure thing,” he says, staring at the big crowd milling around the check-in station. “Damn. I guess I didn’t realize this chamber race thing was so big around town. Never even heard of it until that day with Spencer.”
I nod. “Yup. And you’re not the only local celebrity racing today. There are broadcasters and other athletes too.”
He does a little hop on the balls of his feet. “Good thing I wore my best cross-trainers.”
He holds out his hand and I slip mine inside his huge one as we make our way toward the bookstore. Mark Spencer stands close by, a Caribou cap on his head not much different from the one Max wears. A petite girl, probably one of his high-school-aged employees, laughs at something he says.
When Mark sees me, his face lights up, and he wraps me in a warm hug. “Hey, Sue. So glad you’re here. Ready to race? No backing out now.”
I step back and return his easy smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I’m usually behind the desk.”
He gestures to the girl hovering at his elbow. “This is Alyssa. She’s a star soccer player at Duluth East and one of my best employees at the store. Thought she’d be able to help me give a good showing today.”
I reach out and shake Alyssa’s hand. “Nice to meet you. I own Sue-Ann’s boutique. And this is my friend, Max.”
Alyssa’s eyes widen into moons. “Max Monroe is racing? With you?”
I ignore the sliver of doubt that creeps in at the tone of her voice in addition to her words. Is it that hard to believe that Max would be racing with me? This event is open to any business owner and the owners who choose to race instead of volunteer try to obtain a partner the city of Duluth will support and enjoy. The only rule this year is male/female teams of two. Last year, John Richards, owner of the top sports bar down at Canal Park had Dalvin Cook racing with him. Dalvin caused so much commotion with the fans lining the streets, they ended up coming in dead last because the commotion slowed them down.
Max steps forward to shake her hand. “Sue-Ann and I go way back.”
Yeah, like back less than a week?
My gaze sweeps his tall frame but all I find is that cocky smirk that always seems to be playing at those full lips. “Um… I better check us in, Max.”
I walk to the table to find my friend, Meredith Wilcox, the owner of Mean Beans, a coffeehouse featuring spectacular mochas and live indie music on weekends. She twists a long lock of blond hair around her finger.
“Hey, Meredith, it’s been a while. Too long.”
Her face erupts into a smile. “Sue-Ann! God, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you. You should come in for Frappé Friday and I’ll make you a birthday cake special. I can’t believe you’re racing this year. Normally, you’re sitting right here beside me so we can catch up.”
I lean down and give her a quick hug. “I kind of got hoodwinked into it.”
She peeks around me, and her gaze lands on Max. “Do tell.”
“Well, Mark stopped by to see if I’d race with him and then he and Max started bickering like grade school kids over kickball and… here I am.”
She throws a hand up between us. “Wait, back it up. Why was Max Monroe inside your store? Mark, that I can see because he’s always had a thing for you. I think it started in junior high. So I can see why he’s sniffing around. But you’re going to have to explain that cool drink of water.”
I suck in a breath. “I can’t really tell you here in case someone’s listening, so we’ll have to catch up at Mean Beans next week. But I can tell you that Milo Adamski is just trying to help him get his head on straight before the new season starts. Milo thought it might be good for Max to help me out in the store since I don’t have an assistant manager right now.”
Her eyes drink in Max’s broad shoulders and trim waist until a little blush breaks out on her cheeks. “That’s one hell of an intern, Sue-Ann. Yummy.”
I nod as I grab a legal-sized manila envelope with our race materials and our first bright yellow clue. “I’ll call you.”
“Good luck, Sue-Ann. But even more… have fun. You deserve it, girl.” She gives me a wink and a thumbs-up as I spin away.
I’m glad that Max is playing nice with Mark and all seems well when I walk back up. Mark opens his mouth to say something, but the master of ceremonies takes that opportunity to round up the teams and explain the rules. Once he’s done, he fires off a fake starting gun and Max digs in the yellow and black envelope to extract the clue.
Ripping it open, he scans it quickly, his eyes crinkling. “Well, this is interesting as fuck.”
I grab it from him, reading as fast as I can. Unlike Max, I don’t care if we win, but I don’t want to come in last either. Even though I really don’t want to race, I still have a competitive spirit and a drive to succeed. “It’s okay. We can do this. Let’s go.”
Clue #1—Duluth Amazing Race
Book Shenanigans
Go inside Barnes & Noble and buy the following:
1) A book about your business
2) A book starting with the word ‘The’
3) Your favorite book from grade school
When you’ve completed the task, check in with a B & N employee and find the next clue box to retrieve your next clue.
After shoving the clue inside our backpack, Max grabs my hand and starts off at a fast trot, trailing me behind him. “Sue, I have a confession to make.”
“What?” I ask, gasping for breath. His long legs cover ground, and it’s getting harder for me to keep up with him. We’re racing against twenty other teams. The chamber closed down the Barnes & Noble this morning for the race, so we don’t knock over any customers or terrorize them as we race t
hrough the store collecting the books needed to complete this portion of the leg.
“I only graduated college because I was a hockey star,” Max confesses, swinging the glass doors wide so I can slip through ahead of him. “I only read the books I had to. I’m not a big reader in my spare time like some of the guys. I prefer poker or a movie on the plane to away games.”
I put a hand on his sinewy forearm. “That’s okay. I like to read before bed. But frankly, I think it’s going to be way easier to find a book about hockey than owning a boutique. How about you head to the sports section and find something good, and I’ll work on the other two. Whoever gets done first, call the other and we’ll figure out where to meet.”
He slings the backpack higher up on his shoulder. “You’re on.”
I only allow myself a split second of watching his sculpted ass trot away toward the non-fiction section before I bite my lip and head to the children’s books. Maybe I can find a book beginning with “the” in the same section and kill two birds with one stone as quickly as possible.
Scanning the kid’s section, I wax a bit nostalgic. I used to love reading curled up next to our wood-burning fireplace on my bean bag chair in those cold Minnesota winters. The Goosebumps series was my absolute favorite, and I wonder if kids still read R.L. Stine or if they’ve moved on to some more hip authors. I reach out and touch the spines, but then remember I’m in a race and Max is probably already at the front of the store waiting for me as he bounces on his sneakered toes.
I see a hardcover copy of Goodnight Moon on an end cap, and I grab that as well as the latest installment of The Babysitter’s Club. Check and check. As I meander through the shelves, I whip my phone out and hit Max in my contacts.
Chapter Ten
Max
“Done?” I ask after Sue-Ann calls me, holding my books tightly in my hand.
One is titled 99 Stories of the Game by The Great One, Gretzky. I’ve actually read this one cover to cover so that’s why I snagged it. The other one… well, let’s just say I couldn’t resist. I smile to myself as naughty thoughts play ping-pong inside my head.
“Yup. Where are you?”
“I’m already upfront. There are teams ahead of us, but I think we’re still in the mix. Hightail your sexy ass up here. I already know where the clue box is at, and we’re not far away. We’ve got time to make up.”
Once I catch sight of Sue-Ann’s cap and her hot-as-hell long pony swinging behind it, I reach out and snatch her books. After getting approval from the employee behind the counter, I shove them in my backpack then I point toward the tall clue box with the yellow flag hanging from it.
I get there first and reach inside to withdraw the clue. After ripping it open, my eyes scan it.
“Detour. Roses are red. Get a packet of ketchup or take a picture of your teammate trying on a pair of red shoes. Once you complete the task, head to the corner of Red Oak and Vine where you’ll find your next clue. Which one do you think will be faster?”
Her gorgeous face twists into a grimace. “Isn’t there a McDonalds over in that area? I don’t get over there much. It would have the ketchup packet. Otherwise, there’s a DSW right around the corner.”
“As much as I would love to see your feet rocking a pair of red stilettos, the ketchup would be easier. We can just go through the drive-through and I can get a few burgers at the same time. It’s a win-win.”
Her irises dilate as her eyes widen. “You’re always hungry, aren’t you?”
I pat my stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them, but they tumbled out without my permission. I don’t want Sue thinking of me as a boy. I’m all man, and she damn well better know it.
She chuckles, and we run for the parking lot and my truck. I toss the backpack into the rear cab seat as Sue slides in beside me. I try not to think about how amazing she looks in my truck with her tight jeans and t-shirt. Despite the high price tag of her clothes, she looks like a little redneck cowgirl.
My cowgirl.
Shaking that image from my mind, I throw the truck into gear and hightail it out of the parking lot and onto the highway as fast as I can without getting myself into trouble and compromising the safety of any of my fellow Duluthians.
Eyes peeled, once I spy the golden arches, I swing through the drive-thru. “Do you want anything, Sue-Ann?”
She claps her hands together. “I love those caramel frappé thingies.”
Some static crackles through the speakers. “Welcome to McDonald's. Can I take your order?”
“Um… two number ones with Coke and a large caramel frappé. Oh, and a handful of ketchup packets.”
More crackling ensues until I have a total and am pulling forward in the line.
“You’re going to eat two Big Macs and two large fries?” Her wide eyes take me in.
“I’m hungry and the second fry is for you. You damn women always steal our fries. I won’t stand for that. Besides, I need a lot of calories to sustain my workouts, and my mom says I have a hollow leg.”
“I don’t steal fries.” Her words speak lies because a smile plays at her lips. It takes everything in me not to lean over and kiss her quiet.
“You do. It’s a given. McDonald's fries fresh out of the hopper are the best fries in the world. You chicks always shake your heads and deny, deny, deny but the moment that smell hits your nostrils, your tiny hands are reaching into the bag and oopsie daisy, all the fries are gone.”
She snorts a laugh just as I reach the window. “Did you just say oopsie daisy? I haven’t heard that since I was a kid.”
“I plead the fifth.” I hand over my card and peek inside the bags to make sure I have everything I ordered, including the coveted ketchup needed to help us win this thing. In the process of handing Sue her frappie thingy, I lean in and snort up a mouthful of her whipped cream and caramel drizzle.
She reaches over and smacks me on the shoulder, but it only feels like a fly landing on my skin for all the power she has behind it. “You stole my whipped cream!”
“Well, you were gonna steal my fries.”
“Was not!”
I extract a Big Mac from the bag and then hand her the second large fry. “If you weren’t going to, then you don’t have to eat any of those.”
She snatches it out of my hand and inhales. The look on her face is pure bliss, and I wonder if she wears a similar expression when she comes. All of a sudden, I’m not hungry for the tantalizing fast food in my lap.
She takes a handful out of the bag and shoves them in her mouth. I wait for the elegant column of her throat to swallow. “Oh, so good.”
“See? You wanted fries. Now you need to navigate me to the clue box because I’m eating this right now.” I give the bag a little shake and situate my napkins and drink before I pull out onto the highway again.
As I drive, Blake and Gwen come over the speakers. Before I know it, Sue-Ann’s lilting voice is singing the chorus about how I don’t want to love nobody but you. The breath stalls in my lungs. It’s like she’s singing to me. About me.
About us.
Everything in my body begs me to reach over and grab her hand just to twine her fingers with mine and mesh a part of our bodies together, even if it’s not the part I want most. But maybe it’s the part I need. It’s been so long since I’ve felt wanted for myself and not my NHL status. But in this moment I do. She’s by my side, and she’s racing with me even though she didn’t really want to.
She did this for me.
Instead of touching her like I want to more than anything, I add my voice to the mix, and we’re wailing a pretty decent duet until I spot the bright yellow clue box and pull up next to it. Sue jumps out and grabs the clue, ripping it open.
Her eyes scan the paper until she says, “Roadblock. Pull on your big boy pants. Race to Duluth Trading Company and try on a pair of Armachillo Cooling Underwear. Purchase them using one of the books you picked up from Barnes & Noble.
Wear your new unmentionables outside your clothes and the clerk will hand you your next clue.”
“That’s you, Cowboy. I draw the line at wearing men’s underwear in public. In private… maybe.” She tosses me a saucy wink that lands square in my crotch right in the vicinity of where this damn underwear is going to be in a few minutes.
I picture her in my favorite Nirvana t-shirt, then in my jersey, sitting in the stands where the WAGs congregate for games. Why the hell did I think of that when no chick has ever represented me at the Caribou games outside of my mom or my sister? Shit, I don’t think I even had a special girl in college cheering for me because Maddy never cared for hockey.
And maybe she never really cared for me.
“Hop in, Dale Evans.”
After she’s belted, I pull onto the road and head toward Superior Street. Once we’re safely parked in front of the well-known store, I grab the backpack from the back seat and we’re off and running toward Duluth Trading.
We bolt through the front door, the bell above it jingling our arrival. The yellow tag on the black backpack marks us as racers and the kid behind the counter waves.
“Dude, how many teams have been here before us?” I ask.
“A few, but you’re still in it. The underwear are over there.” He points the way and in seconds, Sue and I stand in front of a wall of men’s briefs and boxers.
“Can you find the Armachillo?”
Her hands run up and down the rows until she snatches a pair and reads the back. “Briefs, boxers, or boxer briefs?” she asks, tugging her lower lip in her mouth. “And do your balls really get that hot in the summer that you need to cool them down?”
“You bet your sweet ass, they do. I won’t tell you how sweaty my balls are after a game. Just pick whatever you think would look best over my jeans.” Is she seriously asking me this shit now? We’re racing! Sue-Ann is forever the fashionista.
Her dainty hands pick through the shelves. “Now, what do you normally wear?”
I’d appreciate the personal and a bit naughty conversation a lot more if we weren’t on the clock. “Boxer briefs.”
Gamed (Minnesota Caribou Book 4) Page 6
