Matt's entire face lights up. "Did she . . ." He turns to me with the kind of manic glee I've seen in toddlers with finger paint. "Ivy, she gave us permission to—"
"No." I hold up a hand. "Whatever you're thinking—"
"But it'sencouraged," he whispers, bouncing on his toes. "Preston, tell her it's—"
"Strategy," Preston cuts in. "We're simply utilizing all available tactical advantages."
Fantastic.I'm on a team with a corporate raider, his chaos-loving protégé, and whatever Carter's about to mansplain. At least I got Dottie.
"First team to get their cake to the finish line intact wins!" Kristal beams.
The course ahead looks like something designed by a someone who watches too many obstacle course shows. There's a tunnel draped in tulle, a slalom through giant champagne bottles, and—because we haven't suffered enough—a balance beam suspended over a mud pit.
"Ready?" Kristal's whistle gleams. "Go!"
Our team takes the lead, though Carter keeps trying to "guide" everyone with his extensive knowledge of weight distribution. I tune him out, focusing instead on keeping our cake level as we navigate the tunnel.
Sarah calls out directions while Dean and Dixie, for once, actually focus. Even Delilah manages to multitask; filming with one hand while steadying their cake with the other. They're making solid progress until Mary's hand conveniently "slips," sending Sarah lurchingtoward the mud pit.
"Oh no," Mary snickers. "Those yoga classes aren't helping your balance much now, are they?"
"Sarah!" Wyatt launches himself after her without hesitation, like some cologne-scented Romeo diving for his Juliet. They both hit the mud with a spectacular splash, and Matt's entire body tenses beside me.
A crash, followed by a collective gasp, draws my attention to Team In-Laws. Their cake lies in a sad heap on the grass, frosting splattered across Virginia and Jefferson.
"That's just wonderful," Magnolia huffs, dabbing at a spot of buttercream on her linen pants. "I told you we needed to establish a proper carrying formation."
Virginia whips around, her sleek bob swinging. "This wouldn't have happened if Jefferson hadn't been showing off."
He wipes icing from his jaw. "Me? You're the one who . . ." Something shifts in the air between them and I whip my head forward, but not before catching Jefferson grab Virginia's wrist, yanking her closer.
"Focus!" Preston snaps.
We're halfway through our own slalom when Greg's voice rises above the chaos. "This is exactly what I mean about focus."
"Maybe we'd have done better if you stopped talking," Caleb argues back, and I turn automatically toward his voice.
Big mistake.
I stumble, the cake teetering precariously, and suddenly there's a steadying presence behind me. Caleb's hand catches my hip, and the world narrows to that single point of contact.
"Careful, Shortcake," he murmurs, voice low enough that it might as well be a caress. His chest is barely brushing my back, and I'm acutely aware of every inch where we almost touch. The cake stabilizes in my hands, but neither of us moves.
Carter's voice shatters the moment. "Did he just help the competition?" Caleb steps away so fast I sway from the loss.
The balance beam proves to be our undoing.
"Channel that wedding day energy!" Kristal's voice rings out across the yard. "Pretend your ex just showed up with your cousin and your cake is your only weapon! MOVE IT!"
Carter steps up and immediately slips. He lands face-first in the mud, making a sound somewhere between a squeak and a gargle.
I shouldn't laugh. I really shouldn't. But then I catch Caleb's eye across the course, his dimples flashing as he bites back a grin, and I'm doubled over, cake tilting dangerously as Carter flails like an overturned turtle in designer athleisure.
"Ivy!" Preston shouts, but I'm too far gone.
"Got it!" Matt lunges, steadying our creation while Dottie and Preston swoop in from opposite sides.
Kristal blows her whistle sharp and loud. "That's it! Team Risky Business wins!"
