Gray’s eyes followed her movements as she reached behind herself and pulled her foot back toward her butt, unconsciously moving into a pre-run routine.
“Are you stretching?”
Blushing, she dropped her foot. “No. Maybe. Gotta stay agile, you know?”
He rolled his eyes as The Castle employee headed toward them.
“You guys ready?” she asked.
“No,” Sophie grumbled.
But Gray gave a nod and kicked off his shoes, practically grinning as they stepped up to the starting line. Who would have thought that an inflatable toy and a bit of competition were all it took to coax a full smile from the man?
Word had apparently gotten out that the CEO and his assistant had lost their minds, because the crowd of people had doubled, and the whoops of encouragement and laughter grew deafening.
“You’d think they were watching gladiators,” he said.
“I’d be the gladiator,” Sophie replied. “You’d be whatever weakling they throw in there, who gets mutilated.”
“That’s not very friendly, now is it?”
“On the contrary,” she said. “It’s quite friendly. See, if we were more than friends, I might let you win for your delicate pride and all, and because I wouldn’t want to deal with you sulking over dinner. But since we’re just friends…well, then I don’t have to see you over dinner, now, do I? Therefore…I’ll happily beat you.”
She didn’t even know what she was talking about. Where had this case of verbal diarrhea come from? Gray looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, but didn’t respond.
“Okay, guys, are you ready to RUMBLE?” hollered the way-too-enthusiastic Castle referee.
“On your mark…”
Shit.
“…Get set…”
Dammit.
“GO!”
A whoop of laugher escaped Sophie as she and Gray rushed forward, pushing each other out of the way in order to be the first one up the tube.
“Hey!” Gray said, as she jabbed her elbow into his side. “You fight dirty.”
“Pussy!” she mumbled back, all thoughts of keeping this affair family-friendly forgotten.
Thanks to her pointy elbows and sharp fingernails, she managed to get to the tube first, giggling as she squeezed her way through the tight opening. It was more yielding than it looked, but it still required an awful lot of wiggling.
“Nice view,” she heard Gray mutter from close behind her as he followed her through the narrow opening.
“Enjoy the angle while you can,” she said back. “It’s the last time you’ll get this close.”
She yelped as a palm smacked her behind, just as she made her way into the next chamber.
“You spanked me,” she sputtered as she found herself in a pit of plastic balls that went up past her waist.
“No, no,” he said, looking around for the passageway out of the chamber. “I was just helping your hips fit through that narrow opening.”
She let out a little growl as she struggled to push through the sea of plastic balls, wading toward some sort of shaky-looking ramp. “Hey, no fair!” she exclaimed. “You’re taller, so you can reach higher.”
“Just like it was way easier for you to wiggle through that last tube because you’re smaller. Well, except for your hips.”
“My hips are fine,” she said, self-consciously touching the offending body part.
“Yes, they are,” he said matter-of-factly as he hoisted himself up the ramp using the strategically placed handles. He’d already shimmied up the squishy slope by the time she’d pulled herself to the base of the ramp.
“See you at the end,” he hollered as he moved out of sight.
Snarling obscenities at him, she struggled to reach the lowest handle, wondering how children had managed this thing. Then again, kids were like monkeys. Twenty-eight-year-old women? Not so much.
Grateful that this particular part of the challenge was out of sight of spectators, she tried unsuccessfully to levy herself up to the next platform before she slid down again and again into the plastic balls.
She finally managed to get a decent grasp on two of the handles, and was debating where to make her next grab when she saw a hand extend in front of her face. Glancing up, she saw Gray’s laughing eyes stare down at her.
“Need some help?” he asked casually.
“No,” she said primly, conscious that her face was red and sweaty and that her arms were beginning to shake from the effort of supporting all of her weight.
“Come on, Soph,” he said, wiggling his fingers at her. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Sophie knew she had plenty of faults, but pride had never been one of them. When faced with the choice of dealing with a gloating man or languishing among plastic balls, she’d tolerate the testosterone overload. Grasping his arm, she allowed him to pull her up. When she lay gasping at the top of the platform, she paused a moment to catch her breath. “Do you think that’s that hard for everyone?” she asked him.
“No,” he said simply. “Guess you shoulda stretched your arms in addition to your quads, huh?”