Dan sat between Mason and his brother Austin. Sarah sat far down the table, helping herself to salad, pointedly ignoring him, the way she had since he’d made the crack about the Army earlier.
Dan wasn’t used to being ignored. He wasn’t stuck up about it, but he knew he turned heads when he walked into a room. Women liked his height, his strength and the fact that he had served in the military. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had simply turned her back and walked away, especially after delivering a zinger in the cool, poised way Sarah had.
He wasn’t used to the slow burn of desire that had threaded through him the minute he’d seen her climb out of the truck, either. Sarah wasn’t at all his type. He didn’t date women in the military. He preferred civilians. They were softer, more generous with their praise, more in awe of his status. Female soldiers brooked no nonsense and were more likely to compete with him than worship him. Dan got enough competition from the men he served with. He figured he could use a little coddling when the work was done.
“We ran that course in all kinds of weather when we were kids,” Mason told Regan. “Didn’t hurt us none.”
“Except the time—” Austin began. Mason elbowed him. “I mean, right. It was just fine.”
Austin’s wife, Ella, rolled her eyes. “You men and your obstacle course.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t like the course,” Austin said. The two of them shared a private smile. Dan wondered what the story was behind it.
He liked the idea of running the mythical Hall obstacle course. Mason had told him all about it. Anyone who’d seen Mason run one in the military had to know there was some secret to his success. Mason’s father, Aaron Hall, had built his four sons the side-by-side set of obstacles when they were just boys, and used it as a kind of back-country parenting tool. Personally, Dan thought that was brilliant.
“We’ll give it a go after lunch,” Mason told him. “I bet I can beat you.”
“Just don’t break your leg. I’m not taking over your chores at Christmas,” Regan said.
“It’s been a while since we raced, Austin. What do you say?” Zane said.
“Sure thing.”
“What about you, Sarah?” Everyone looked at him when Dan spoke up. “Are you going to run the course?”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to help Regan.”
“Too chicken to try it out? I should have guessed.” Why did the hazel-eyed, dark haired woman grab his attention so effectively? She didn’t have the long, thick tresses he usually was drawn to. Her curls were short enough for active duty. Her eyes were expressive, her lips full enough to be sensuous, but he knew damn well that under her cable-knit sweater would be muscles, not the full curves he liked so much.
Although she was pretty curvy.
“I’m not chicken.”
The clipped tone of her voice brought his gaze up to meet hers. Damn, had she caught him speculating about her body?
“It wouldn’t be fair,” Ella spoke up. “Her racing against you.”
“Why—because she’s just a girl?” He couldn’t have asked for a better setup. Sarah wouldn’t be able to ignore him now. He could see the flare of resentment in her eyes, coupled with a tightening of her mouth that told him she didn’t want to hurt Ella’s feelings by snapping at her.
“I’m not just a girl. I’m a soldier and I’m every bit as fast as you.”
Dan smiled. Gotcha. “Then we’ll race. I’m looking forward to kicking your ass.”
“Good luck.” She picked up her sandwich and took a bite, as cool as a cucumber.
She wouldn’t be cool for long. She’d be huffing and puffing as she tried to keep up with him. No woman could beat him in a race.
And then what? Winning a contest wasn’t really what he was after, was it? He wanted to get close to Sarah in an altogether different kind of way.
“How about we make the race more interesting?” he said loudly, cutting across the conversations that had sprung up around the table again.
Sarah sighed. Turned to him. “What do you have in mind?”
“A bet.”
“No bets,” Regan said sternly. “I don’t want this to get out of hand.”
“It won’t get out of hand, will it, Sarah?” Dan kept his gaze squarely on her face. Was it his imagination or were her cheeks turning pink?
Just his imagination.
“What kind of bet?” She took another bite of her sandwich, still unperturbed.
“I said, no bets!” Regan looked exasperated. “Mason—”
“A kiss under the mistletoe if I win.”
Sarah chewed slowly. Swallowed. “And if you lose?”
“Name your penalty.” He was enjoying this all too much. He hoped she’d ask for a kiss, too, but doubted it.
“You run a loop around the Hall naked.”
A chorus of whoops filled the dining room. “Now we’re talking!” Zane guffawed. “Mothers, cover your daughters’ eyes!”
“Don’t worry—there won’t be any nudity,” Dan said. “I’m not the one who’s going to lose. Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart.”
“We’ll see about that, pretty boy.” Sarah looked unconvinced.
Pretty boy? He narrowed his eyes. She’d pay for that.
With a kiss.