“What do you want to do?” Dad asked her. “We can contact our lawyer.”
Charlie glanced at him, a dead look in her eyes. “Don’t bother.”
He scowled. “But we need to do some?—”
“I couldn’t care less what she thinks.” Her shoulders jerked with an almost shrug. “What any of them think.”
Then she turned and walked out of the room, leaving us speechless.
Mom shook her head. “When did that girl lose all her fight?”
That’s what I wanted to know.
But even more, I wanted to knowwhy.
twelve
Charlie
My heart rate was through the roof and it felt amazing. Who knew a girl who’d avoided all things athletic growing up could turn into a running machine? And swing across the bars like a freaking monkey? My eyes narrowed as the finish line of the obstacle course at Dupree Ranch loomed ahead. Because I wasn’t finished. I could do another lap. Maybe two.
I should probably send Millie a fruit basket. Her hate lit a fire under me I didn’t know I had.
Thirty feet, twenty feet, ten..… I crossed the line and kicked it into high gear, ready to hit the first hill of the loop like a beast. A squeal erupted from my lungs as someone yanked me to a stop.
Cash’s hand gripped my forearm, holding me in place. His chest heaved, trying to catch his breath.
I popped my knockoff AirPods out. “Where did you even come from?”
“Behind.” Gasp. “You.” Choke. “Didn’t you…hear me calling…your name?”
I looked down at my hand where Pink was still strongly encouraging me to ‘raise my glass.’ I stopped the music on my phone, feeling my endorphins die along with the words. “You messed up my mojo. I hit my second wind.”
He blew out some air, cheeks flushed. Even drenched, sweat stains under both armpits of his Hokie’s muscle tee, he was way too good-looking. “Running is only part of the race.” He tipped his head toward Griffin and Maggie, who were standing by the two hay bales, each spray painted with a bullseye. “Have you mastered the spear throw?”
I puffed my lips. “Nah. I’m going to take the penalty loop on that one. I looked up the stats and only twenty percent of people complete that obstacle.”
“But Charlie.” He grinned, and just like that, the heat from my running had nothing on the warmth spreading through my chest. “That’s the best part.” He put an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the hay. “Hundreds of racers tossing it fruitlessly, and suddenly—Bam!—yours lands.” He threw his arms in the air and waved them around. “They cheer, groan, some of the women cry. And you and I jog off triumphant while they head for the penalty loop.”
“Pretty sure I’m going to be one of the women crying,” I said as I watched Griff sink the spear dead center.
Maggie shook her head. “Girl. We’ll be crying together. I’ve hit it twice today. Out of thirty-five.”
“See,” I said to Cash. “That’s not even twenty percent.”
Cash tipped his chin, a glint in his eye. “I hit it ninety-five percent of the time. So does Griff. You just have to know how.”
Yep, my redheaded cousin nailed another one.
“He makes it look so effortless,” Maggie muttered, jaw tight.
“Come here.” Griff curled a finger, beckoning her closer. He had bags under his eyes, exhausted from recruit school. “Let’s try this again.”
Maggie gave me a look but laughed as she stepped behind the rocks marking the throw line. She picked up the five-foot-long wooden handle, resting it on the crook of her palm. Like some kind of undercover Casanova, Griffin settled her against his chest, placed one hand on her hip, and wrapped his other hand around hers. Together, they pulled the spear back and let her fly. Effortlessly, it pierced the center of the bullseye.
She whooped.
“Hey!” Bowen shouted. We turned to see him jogging up, finishing a lap. “Hands offmypartner.” He glared at Maggie like she was Benedict Arnold.
