Page 2 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

“Now, before y’all get out there, let’s go over the legal stuff I have to tell you.” The emcee proceeds to explain the liabilities of the Mud Down, the safety regulations, and the partner rule. “Find the person to your right and to your left. Those are your teammates.”

I look left at Lisa, then right at Jackie. We grin cartoonishly at each other.

“Remember that word, teammates. They aren’t your competition, aren’t your enemies. They’re all running the same course, doing the same obstacles, getting dirty, just like you. So leave your egos behind.”

A lightness builds in my chest. I love the Mud Down sentiment.

“Take care of each other out there. Lend a hand, work together, and be brave enough to lean on someone else if needed.” The emcee leaves the tent, cordless microphone in hand, and steps into the middle of the group. “Last thing, I want you to turn to your neighbors, give them a fist bump, and say, ‘you got this.’”

I turn left and fist bump Lisa, but when I turn right, Jackie isn’t there. Instead, I find myself staring straight into a guy’s chest. A guy’s muscular chest.

I raise my gaze to meet the most beautiful pair of dark brown eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re like sparkling muddy pools flashing in the morning sun. My heart skips a beat as I take in the face surrounding the eyes. This guy is gorgeous. Shaggy light-brown hair held back by a sweatband, a strong jaw covered in the right amount of stubble, and a dazzling smile that has my stomach flipping.

“You got this.” His low, smooth voice is full of confidence as he bumps his fist against mine.

The second his knuckles tap my own, the spell I’m under breaks, and I blink before flexing my fingers like they’re exploding. “You, too,” I say, much quieter and with less confidence than he did.

His smile melts into a smirk before he turns back to his friend, and I spin to face Lisa. I suck in a breath, but luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice what just happened.

To be honest, I don’t even know what just happened. I’m usually so cool and collected, but one look at that guy and I was reduced to a swooning nitwit.

Shake it off, Brynn.

Besides, I’ve been off relationships and guys in general for a year, and I’m certainly not gunning for a casual hook-up. Even if I talked more to that guy, there’s a minuscule chance we’ll see each other again, so I move on. I focus on the race ahead of me.

That’s the whole reason I’m here, anyway.

The emcee blows the whistle, officially starting the race. All the racers take off. My three friends and I begin with a liberal jogging pace, but they quickly slow down. Not on my watch. I jog a few feet ahead of them, then turn around to jog backward. When I wave them on and spout motivational phrases, I’m met with a couple of middle fingers and stuck-out tongues.

I don’t give up, though.

Slowing my pace, I run circles around my friends. They complain and roll their eyes, even take a few playful swings at me, but in the end, they become fed up with my antics. Picking up their pace, we get back on track in no time.

After a half mile, we reach the first obstacle, the muddy crawl.

I take the lead. Sliding into the murky water, I dunk my head so I can crawl under the low-hanging barbed wire, then hold it up so my friends can slither through safely. That starts a chain reaction, and other racers begin copying me.

We conquer another few obstacles before coming to one that really requires teamwork. The mud mounds are exactly what they sound like; several mounds of mud over six feet tall with water-filled ditches in between. People give you a boost, then you reach down to pull them up. The slippery mud offers no footing, and it's a riot watching people slide face first into the next ditch.

The four of us jump in, and I begin giving the boosts. Lisa first, then Jackie, then Hannah, and lastly, me. This order goes on for all of the mounds, five in total. When I lift Hannah out of the final ditch, I lose my footing and go under the water. I come up immediately, ineffectively wiping my face, and reach up to grab Hannah’s hand.

But Hannah’s hand seems to have doubled in size.

“You got this,” a deep voice says, and I forget all about the mud covering my face, whipping my head up to see my starting line hunk holding my hand. His half smile returns, and my breath shakes from my mouth, mud sputtering off my lips. “And I got you.” Then he yanks me out of the ditch as if I weigh nothing.

Once I’m on solid ground again, hunky guy lets go of my hand, winks at me, and takes off running with his buddy. I’m left speechless, staring after him. I don’t even know what to think. He’s still as hot as he was on the starting line, even now, covered in mud.

Lisa calls my name, startling me and pulling me back to the real world. I jog to catch up with my friends. They give me concerned looks as I opt to walk to the next obstacle instead of jogging. I tell them it’s because I have to pee. In truth, though, my knees are wobbling so much, I don’t think I could hold a jog if my life depended on it.

Luckily, a water station is our next stop. To play out my ruse, I step into the mud-covered interior of a Porto-Potty, hoping they use environmentally friendly chemicals. I’d hate to think what would happen if one of these sprung a leak.

I run my hands over my crusty hair. What is going on with me? I don’t ever get flustered over a guy.

I shake my head. It’s a fluke. A hot guy happened to be in my space, and I lost focus for a bit. No big deal. I’ve recovered now. My legs aren’t shaking anymore, my head has cleared, and I can finish this race strong. Exiting the tiny restroom, I hold my head up. I’m not going to let some handsome face deter me from my goal.

But as I move to join my friends again, the handsome, albeit muddy, face runs past me. When our eyes meet, he flashes another brilliant smile, and my heart skips a beat.

Dammit.

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