There was one positive to this whole situation, though. Running into that frigid water was going to be a welcome deterrent to the growing situation inside his shorts.
There should be points awarded in this game for resisting your hot-as-hell teammate. If there were, he’d win that competition too.
As he glanced around, he noticed there was more than one SEAL who had the same dazed expression he no doubt wore. More than one set of eyes trying to avoid looking where they shouldn’t, while a couple of others blatantly stared and enjoyed the show.
And in the background, as the crew watched eagerly from behind the scenes, occasionally pointing and whispering, he realized this was exactly what the network wanted.
Survivor? Bull shit. It wasn’t the survival aspect of this show they were counting on to get ratings.
They—the production company and more importantly the viewing public—wanted sex. And this show was designed to give it to them, right down to the mixed sex teams and this little impromptu wet T-shirt contest.
And thanks to command, he was smack in the middle of it. Mother fuc—
“Your turn,” Shelly announced, brushing her palms together to knock the sand from them.
“Uh, yup,” he agreed, his voice sounding husky to his ears.
He plunged into the icy water and barely even felt it.
ChapterFourteen
Somebody was going to get a talking to.
Shelly made that vow as she sat, miserable and cold, covered in sand and tried not to scowl as the cameraman pulled in for a tight shot on her and Stefan, who sat equally sandy on the log next to her.
There were no extra clothes packed for them to change into. The bastards.
She couldn’t even take solace in the fact that Gabby and Dani, as well as Nick and Zach, looked equally miserable because they also looked pissed off about the whole thing, and she couldn’t blame them.
However, they were most likely blaming her for their current unpleasant situation. As Stefan kept reminding her, this was her show idea and she’d planned the episodes.
How had things spiraled out of her control? Her fun competition had turned into torture. Between Jonas and his good ideas and Joanne with her lust for ratings, Shelly should be grateful they weren’t catching their own fish for food or eating maggots for the challenges.
“Now for the reading of the rules and the reveal of the first challenge,” Tasha said, looking beautiful. And dry. And not covered in sand. She turned to her soon-to-be husband. “Clay?”
Clay nodded. “Competitors are only as good as the coaches behind them—”
“That’s not true,” Stefan mumbled.
Shelly shushed him as Clay continued. “So for the duration of the competition, the SEALs will not compete and will act as coaches only. Their job is to prepare their civilian teammates.
Tasha took over in the tag team hosting. “The women will represent their team and compete against each other for the upcoming challenges.”
Clay jumped back in saying, “SEALs, remember, your teammate’s win is your win. Their loss, is your loss.”
“The first challenge tomorrow will be the four-mile run,” Tasha announced.
“In boots and a full pack,” Clay added. That was followed by a chorus of groans, which only made him break into an uncharacteristic smile.
“What?” Stefan spun to glare at her. “I don’t get to compete? Only you? How did that happen?
“Jonas,” Shelly said simply. She realized it was becoming her answer for a lot of things.
Stefan shook his head. “This Jonas person better not come anywhere near me or I can’t promise what I’ll do to him.”
“Noted.” She nodded.
“Four-miles.” Stefan sighed. “Are you at least a runner?”