“He beat you in a race yesterday,” Regan said in a low voice, moving closer. “Why would you try for a rematch? Unless you want to lose so he’ll kiss you again? Dan is pretty cute.”
“I definitely do not want to lose.” Even if the forfeit was only two kisses under the mistletoe today—nothing as lascivious as the scenes she’d concocted in her mind while she tossed and turned last night, waiting to fall asleep in her third floor room. She had to admit—to herself—those kisses did sound like fun, but that wouldn’t impair her urge to win. Or to see Dan run two laps naked around the Hall. “This race is about endurance more than speed. I’ll win it.”
“I don’t know. You’re incredibly strong, but Dan’s in good shape—and he is a man.”
He is a man. Sarah bit back a sharp retort. She was sick of people throwing that up to her as an excuse why she couldn’t compete—or win.
“I told you I won’t lose.”
“Okay, okay.” Regan held her hands up in defeat. “If anyone can beat him, you can.”
Sarah softened at the look of pride in Regan’s eyes. Her friend only wanted to protect her. “Thanks.”
“Ready, squirt?” Dan moved into position at the starting line Mason had traced in the snow. They’d agreed on a race course that would take them down to Chance Creek, left around the closest pasture and then back again to the front steps of the Hall.
“Ready, SEALman.” He looked formidable today, dressed all in black outdoor gear. His boots and snowshoes made him an inch or so taller than usual, but then she was wearing boots and snowshoes, too.
Somehow they didn’t make her feel tall at all. Was he hiding lifts in those shoes?
“What do you say, Ella? Double or nothing? You still owe me twenty dollars.” Dan grinned at her over his shoulder.
She laughed. “Deal!”
“On your mark, get set—go!” Mason called the start. Sarah burst off the line in a sprint, but soon slowed to a steady pace. She knew that was the trick to winning this kind of race. Mason had estimated the distance as two and a half miles. That was a long way in snow shoes.
Dan quickly passed her by, but Sarah didn’t let his pace throw her off. The real race would happen in the last half-mile. With any luck, Dan would have worn himself out by then, while she’d have plenty of wind to sprint past him to the end.
The first part of the race was tiring, but uneventful. She followed Dan’s snowshoe prints down the path until she caught sight of Chance Creek. The creek was mostly frozen over, but dark water could be seen here and there and she took care to keep well back from the banks.
She made a hard turn left and spotted Dan ahead of her. He had pulled well back from his initial scorching pace, and soon she caught up with him.
“Krav Maga, huh?” he said when she drew near. “I would have thought knitting was more your style.” He moved easily, breathing strong but not heavily.
She did like knitting, but she wouldn’t tell him that. “I thought flower arranging would be more your style, but Regan says she and Ella did all the decorating.”
He sent her a bemused look. “Was that a clumsy attack on my masculinity?”
He was right; it was clumsy. She’d have to do better. “Regan’s touchy about people borrowing her underthings, but I bet Ella would loan you some panties for later. Or are you a thong kind of a guy—” Sarah shrieked when Dan bowled her over and they crashed together into the snow. She landed on her back with Dan braced above her.
“I do prefer thongs. On my women.” He leaned closer. “And if you’re really that unclear about what kind of a man I am, I’d be happy to give you a demonstration.”
Sarah glared up at him. He had her pinned and she could tell it wouldn’t be easy to unseat him, especially now that he knew what to expect.
A lascivious smile spread across his face. “Keep looking at me like that, and I won’t have to prove anything.”
“You pig. Get off of me.”
To her surprise he let her sit up. “Just kidding, squirt. I’m not that kind of guy. When we’re together it’ll be because you begged for it.”
“Fat chance.” She pushed him the rest of the way off of her and got back to her feet, ready to resume the race. He followed her, slipping into stride beside her as she increased her pace again.
“I could be that kind of guy, though. If you wanted me to be. What about it, squirt? Do you like men who take charge?”
She ignored him and fought the urge to run even faster. He was trying to throw her off her stride—trying to tire her out—so he could beat her and get those two kisses he seemed to want so badly. Despite herself, she found herself imagining what those kisses would be like.
And what he’d be like if he took charge.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
Sarah body-checked him as if they were playing hockey, dropping her shoulder and leaning in for the hit as she ran. Dan went down hard, but he thrust a hand out, grabbed her ankle, and sent her crashing to the ground, too.
“Damn it!”