Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
“Each platform has thirty hockey pucks, and you have to bring them down one at a time,” he said. “So it’ll be fifteen trips up and down the ladder for each member of your team. And once you have all thirty pucks in your baskets, located at the bases of the trees, you’ll take them over to the slingshot area, where each member has to fire pucks with a slingshot into three different baskets. The first team to get ten pucks in each of those three baskets wins the beach dinner, and the last team to finish will be eliminated.”
The camera operators stopped filming then so a production assistant could show us exactly how to do the challenge. My stomach rolled nervously as we watched.
I’d never fired a slingshot. This was going to be interesting to say the least, because while I wasn’t looking forward to arguing with Archer back at camp, the thought of not doing that because we’d been eliminated was even less appealing.
There wasn’t much time to psych myself out before Josh told us all to go. Beside me, Andrea flew up her ladder, easily beating me to the top.
“Come on, Lo!” Archer called from the ground. “Grab that puck and go, fast as you can!”
I got my first puck in the basket and Archer took over. Every time he scaled the ladder, I had just enough time to catch my breath. We stayed in it, though, with no major mistakes, and we were in the middle of the pack when we finished filling our basket of pucks.
“Run!” Archer commanded as he went for the basket of pucks. “I’ll catch up!”
This was no time to argue. I took off toward the slingshots set up on the beach, and Archer was quickly on my heels.
“Watch how I do it,” he said as he put the first puck into the slingshot.
He pulled it back, looked at the baskets to aim, and let the first puck go. It flew and whizzed past a basket, missing it by inches.
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.
“Is that how it’s done?” I asked wryly.
“Let’s see you do better.”
It wasn’t like Archer to engage in jabs in the heat of a competition. He was normally cool and calm, focused only on getting the job done. But the thought of the prize was rattling him today. He wanted it badly, and I did, too.
We could still win this. I loaded the slingshot, pulled back and fired.
I missed the baskets by a lot. Archer didn’t react—he just loaded the slingshot, aimed and fired again.
And made it.
I tried to mimic what he’d done, taking my time aiming. When he crouched beside me to check my aim, his solid form so close, my heart raced and my calm slipped. Why was my body reacting this way to him? He’d crushed me. We’d been over for eight years.
“That’s perfect,” he murmured. “Keep the tension in it and launch it hard.”
Hard. That one word from his mouth made my pulse pound.
Get it together. Think about the least sexy thing you can imagine.
I mentally grappled to picture something—anything—other than the man whose breath had just warmed my ear.
Lucky Charms cereal. It was all I could come up with. I envisioned the pastel-colored marshmallows, a carton of milk, and a waiting bowl.
Keeping the slingshot still, I launched the puck, watching it sail through the air and land in a basket.
“Yeah!” Archer pumped his fist and grabbed the slingshot, reloading it.
Only twenty-eight pucks to go.
“To teamwork,” Archer said a couple of hours later, holding out his Corona bottle.
I clinked my margarita glass against his beer. “Teamwork.”
We’d done it. Rod and Andrea had made it a race, but I’d gotten into a zone with the slingshot and ended up landing more pucks in the baskets than Archer did. It was seventeen pucks to thirteen, but who was keeping score?
I was. I wanted Archer to know I was as strong and capable as anyone out here. It was a matter of winning, but more than that, a matter of pride. No one would carry me to the finish line—I’d race through it on my own.
“I’ve never appreciated the taste of a beer so much,” he said, looking at the bottle. “Or even having a chair to sit in while I drink it.”
The Exiled production team had set up a dining table and plush, comfortable dining chairs for us on the beach. Between the umbrella over our table and the breeze, we were comfortable.
“This margarita is basically a mouth orgy,” I said. “Between the ice, the salt, and the sourness of it…God, I don’t even care how hungover I am tomorrow.”
I tipped the glass back and drained it. Archer looked on in amusement.
“Guess the dehydration will be worth it?”
“Totally worth it.”
Our sever brought over a basket of rolls, and I grabbed one before the basket was even on the table.