Page 88 of Own the Eights
Becca’s jaw dropped. “That’s your password?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a terrible password,” she scoffed.
Dammit! She was right.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I should really change it.”
“You think? Seriously, it’s the worst. Like, on a scale of one to ten, your password is a two at best. Maybe a one. I’m surprised your ass hasn’t been hacked yet.”
“Message received. I will change the password, but first, I need your help getting this out there,” he said, watching the second hand on his watch tick away time.
“Okay! Go! I’ve got it,” Becca answered, shooing him away when his stomach emitted a piercing, mega-growl.
Shit! It had been hours since he’d eaten.
He looked around for a muffin or a doughnut. “I’m going to have to sprint to the race. Do you have anything here I can eat? I’ll need some energy.”
“All we have is this. Georgie’s been living off the stuff since the gala,” Becca said, opening the door to a mini-fridge below the register and taking out a tube of vegan cookie dough.
He smiled, remembering Georgie in that god-awful cardigan, tearing open the tube with her teeth and power eating the dough after their first challenge.
“Hey, Romeo! Snap out of it,” Becca said and tossed him the tube. “You better be able to eat and run, buddy. The race starts in eight minutes.”
Eight minutes.
If anyone ever needed to own the eights, it was him.
14
Georgie
Georgie glanced around, raised her arms and stretched, mimicking the real runners packed in around her. This was it. The Denver Trot 10K, sponsored by CityBeat. With the CityBeat logo splashed on T-shirts and event banners and with a team of CityBeat producers walking through the crowd, snapping pics and taking videos, there was no doubt that today was a big day. Spectators lined the Denver streets, closed off to traffic for the race, and carried signs with pictures of her and Jordan and the Dannies.
Today, a winner would be chosen.
She’d wanted this, right? She’d dreamed of gaining new followers and increasing her visibility online. She’d wanted to take her Own the Eights blog and make it big, make it a force for good and help people find their true soul mate.
And now?
Now, all she wanted was for it to be over.
After eight days of ignoring her blog, she was sure she’d be in last place. She’d written off the prize money. She could tighten up her budget, sell her car, or try for another bank loan to make ends meet. Her trifecta got it. With their girl-power guidance, sent to her from her beloved father, she’d figure it out.
Hurdle number one was simply getting through today.
She glanced around, looking for Jordan, unable to help herself, when the Dannies, all perfect bone structure and matching running gear, made their way toward her.
“Well, look at you! Aren’t you the little runner,” Danielle said with a swish to her blond ponytail.
But Daniel looked far less enthusiastic.
“This is a stupid idea. We shouldn’t be here,” the Ken doll lookalike said, shifty-eyed and watching the crowd.
Danielle amped up her smile. “If we want to win the money, we have to be here.”
Georgie glanced between the siblings. “Yeah, you guys have missed a couple of challenges.”
