“You said it yourself, two holes, not four. His back legs were in the kart. So how could he run with only two front paws? He couldn’t. And he didn’t. The rules don’t say anything about a dog hanging their front paws outside the kart and pulling through the snow. And that’s exactly what he did.”
The officials got together and conferred with one another. When they came back with the verdict, Holly and Boudica were the winners. They handed the trophy to Ceci, who was quick to hold it up to the burly man with an expression on her face which was basically equivalent to giving him the finger.
Clarke couldn’t help but grin watching Ceci hold that trophy and walk proudly back down Main Street. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it looked like Boudica and Holly also put some swagger in their strut.
What time is it?he wondered as they approached the truck. The sun was getting close to sinking into the horizon.
I suppose it’s too early for dinner.Maybe drinks?
She paid a lot for this date. I told myself I would make sure it’s a date worthy of that contribution insofar as that’s possible in Cornhole, Montana. Then again, the way she’s hugging that trophy—maybe that, to her, is enough.
They were a couple of steps from the truck, and this time he was determined he get to the door before she did. He jogged past and held it open.
“What do you think about—”
“Hey!”
Clarke turned to see the burly man marching toward them. He could sense Ceci was going to go at him. He grabbed her arm.
“Just forget it. He’s not worth it. Come on, let’s go.”
“She got your balls in a vise grip? Should have known. You’ve got pussy written all over you.”
Clarke faced the man. “Is that supposed to be an insult? Because if it is, I don’t get it. I don’t mind having pussy all over me. I certainly prefer it to limp dick, which I can see is written all over you.”
He turned back to Ceci. “Come on, in the truck. Let’s go.”
He couldn’t see the man behind him approaching. What he could see was Ceci—lunging forward full throttle. Only afterward, he realized the guy was probably about to sucker punch him.
“No, Ceci,” he shouted, as he swiftly jumped between them. Once again, his timing was impeccable. He did so just as Ceci’s fist flew forward.
He couldn’t say exactly when he thought,Here we go again. Was it when he caught a glance of something out of the corner of his eye that turned out to be Ceci’s fist? When he felt that fist make contact? When gravity took him down? Or when he actually hit the ground?
He only knew that after he hit the ground, he looked up through bleary eyes to see Ceci Rivers knee the man in the groin and the man crumple like a piece of Saran Wrap.
The girl should have some kind of warning label tattooed across her forehead—hazardous to one’s health. Either that, or a skull and crossbones.
Boudica bit the man on the ankle for good measure. The bulldog would have gone for more had Ceci not stopped him.
As she helped Clarke up and into the truck, he tried to take some comfort in them coming to his rescue.But right about now, he thought, sitting in the passenger seat while Ceci drove,I could really do with some deep-fried s’mores washed down with a glass of single malt scotch. He needed something to take the bitter taste out of his mouth. Not even the fact that Holly Golightly had lifted her leg and peed on the man, before they’d all jumped in the truck and taken off, had managed to make him feel any better.
Chapter Fourteen
Ceci
Pixel and Aunt Delilah came running forward the minute Ceci shut the door behind her and Boudica.
“Spill the tea,” Aunt Delilah cried.
“Wait!” Pixel shouted, pointing toward the credenza where Ceci had placed the trophy. “Is that—?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She went running toward it and picked it up. “It is! You and Boudica won the Pawsome Sledding race!” Her huge smile disappeared when she looked at Ceci. “Why aren’t you happy?”
“I’m happy.”
Even Ceci could hear the snappy, irritable tone in her voice. She shouldn’t be taking her anger out on Pixel and Aunt Delilah. That tone was reserved for one person and one person only.
Once she’d clocked him, he was back to being Sir Stick Up His Ass.
Back to being Sir Stick Up His Ass? He was always Sir Stick Up His Ass.
