Zander

The mood has shifted between us. I'm not sure if it is from my overreaction to her assuming I wanted a drink—which I did—or whatever the message on her phone said. Either way, the light, breezy conversation between us ow feels jolted and a little tense.

I hate that I can switch the flip on my mood like this. I can go from having the best time of my life, to wanting nothing more to get home and away from a situation as fast as someone can blink. It's an annoying trait I have always had.

She yawns loudly on the drive home, and I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, itching to get home and rinse of the slashed beer from my skin, from being around drunk, hollering people who love to lift their plastic cups boisterously in the air.

I pull up to a stop in front of her place. A part of me wants to cheer up the mood, and continue spending time together, considering all I do is think about this girl, and long for her company. Yet another part of me wants to call it a night and be back in my comfortable bed, alone, where I like to be.

"Thanks for taking me," she smiles, unbuckling her seatbelt, hesitating briefly, as if waiting for me to make the next move.

"I hope you had fun," I say after a moment, my voice sounding awkard even to my own ears.

"I did," she says, releasing the seatbelt which flings dramatically back against the leather seat.

Silence. After a moment, she nods, exiting the car. I realise after she is out of the car that this was a date, and I should have initiated a good night kiss. Damn it. I get so stuck inside my head that I miss the real world passing me by.

Opening the door and almost stumbling out of the truck, I quickly round it as she is nearing her porch, almost completely cast in shadows, since there are no lights on inside her house and out here, there are no streetlamps.

"Angel," I say a little urgently, reaching for her.

"Hmm?" she turns to face me.

Curling my hand around the back of her neck, I drag her to me, and dive toward her mouth. Soft, warm, and perfect. That is the only way to describe how good her lips feel against mine.

I moan into her mouth. Having her lips on mine is quickly becoming a high I'm ready to keep chasing. I love exploring her mouth, and her tongue. I especially enjoy the way she opens up for me, giving in automatically when I fight for dominance.

Her scent invades me senses and it drives me wild.

Stepping back, we breathlessly gaze at each other.

God damn it. I don't want this night to end. But it needs to. I can't screw things up with her. She is the only girl who has ever made me feel like this, and for the first time in my life, I care enough to want to take my time, and make sure things are done right.

"I'll see you soon," I murmur, eyes scanning her face, enjoying seeing her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

She is fucking beautiful.

I desperately want to go inside and get rid of all this pent-up energy and lust I have for her. But for once in my life, I don't want to rush this. I always do things and worry about the consequences later, but with her, I don't want to screw things up. I can't.

Directing myself to the pub, I pull in, and am surprised to see quite a few of the tables filled, considering it's getting pretty late. Glendale is a small, sleepy town. It's not unusual for everything to be closed, and at a complete standstill by eleven p.m. Earlier, on weeknights.

"Well hey there," Cassie greets me, already placing a schooner glass under the tap. She fills it and slides it toward me, looking tired. She overworks herself but can't afford not to work as much as she does. I gave her a raise last year, even though the business couldn't really afford to do so. "What has you looking grunpy?"

"I'm not grumpy."

"You're always grumpy," she points out with a smile.

Sighing, I drop into the bar stool, leaning onto the bench. "I'm trying to be a good guy."

"You are a good guy."

I give her a flat look. Smiling, she throws the rag she's using over her should and plucks out one of the nuts piled into the small glass bowl.

"Well. Mostly." She grins. "This is about Brea, I'm guessing."

"Mmhmm," I reply, running a hand roughly down my face. "I don't really know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"The whole being a respectful gentleman thing."

Cassie tilts her head, assessing me. "I think you are doing fine, Zander. You just need to make sure you know what you want when it comes to her."

"That's the whole problem. I want to be with her, but I don't know how to be that person for her. I don't know if she is even going to be sticking around long enough for me to try."

"But if you don't try, she might leave, and then you will regret that for the rest of your life."

She has a valid point. Since when did she get so wise?

"Or I try, she still leaves, and I'm miserable."

"I think you just need to take a chance, Zander. Go with it and see what happens."

A customer—one of the many regulars—sidles up to the bar and Cassie moves away to serve him. Quietly, I listen to the distinct sound of ice dropping into the glass, and the 'whoosh' sound of the tap shooting out liquid.

Finishing my beer, I exhale.

I've come to realise one thing and one thing only.

No matter what I do, I cannot get Brea Lancaster off my mind.

***

It is sweltering today. Of course it is, it's the challenge, and it always lands on one of the hottest days of the year. Although every day out here is hot. Even in winter, there's no reprieve from the harshness of the sun. Unyielding and unrelenting as always.

Brea and her team are already at the start line, stretching and talking amongst each other. My eyes travel up those long legs, to her crop top, and shorts, loving that she has her tanned stomach on display.

With her golden skin, long blonde hair pulled up into a high pony, and in her black and yellow team colours, she looks like a beautiful sunflower. She's warm, and bright like one, anyway.

Brea looks up as I walk over, and a coy smile curves her lips. Adjusting my cap—which is backwards—I walk over to her, biting my lower lip. My body has a mind of its own when it comes to her, and I love the fact that she eyes me up just as appreciatively.

"Hey, Angel," I say huskily, appreciating every beautiful inch of her.

How am I so lucky that she walked back into town? My own perfect dream, wrapped up in one, neat, pretty bundle. That smells nice, and makes me feel like a horny teenager, 24/7.

"Hey handsome," she smiles. I love her smile. Fuck, I'm a simp. "Ready to get your ass kicked?"

I scoff, snapping back to reality, forcing myself to focus. "In your dreams, sweetheart."

"Nah, in my dreams, it gets a lot dirtier," she replies.

Blood rushes to my groin at those words. Smirking, my eyes inch down her slender neck, to where her shirt is tightly pulled across her breasts. This woman does things to me. She doesn't have to even try.

"You'll have to prove it," I murmur, stepping closer, inhaling her soft, flowery scent.

"Maybe, if you win, you can have a little taste."

"I like my odds," I breathe, unable to look away from her lips. "I always win."

Running her tongue across her teeth, her smile widens. "We'll see."

Nodding, I step back. "We will."

"Stop fraternising with the enemy," Nathan mutters, not even sparing me a glance as he curls his hand around her arm and pulls her over to the group. My eyes linger on his hand for a moment before I turn and re-join my own team.

I can't get mad about anything when it comes to Nathan and her. I need to respect that he is her family, even though I fucking loathe the guy, and the image of his hands on her makes me see red, even though I know he means her no harm.

Cassie holds out paint. I stare down at it, and back up to her, seeing red and black lines slashed across her cheeks, matching our uniform. The other members of the team are painted up as well.

"I'm not doing that," I say immediately.

"You're the captain," she replies snippily, squinting up at me behind her sunglasses that are red and heart-shaped. "It's your duty."

"As captain, I say fuck no."

Rolling her eyes, she gives up turning around and disappearing through the group to put the paint back where she found it. She knows better than to argue with me. It's a losing battle.

With work, and life duties, I've hardly had time to spend with Brea, and it's been driving me crazy. Especially seeing her striding around, hips swaying, long hair swishing. It's like she is purposefully taunting me.

Or I'm just insanely obsessed with her, and the small act of walking past me is enough to send me spiralling...

Jefferson—the man who has been running this challenge for as long as I've been alive—whistles, beckoning us to join him where he is perched on a step, his straw hat so frayed, it looks one strong gust of wind away from falling apart.

As Jefferson prattles of the rules, I glance around the other groups. Nathan is smirking smugly in my direction. I want nothing more to wipe the floor with that cocky smirk and leave him behind in my dust trail.

"All right now, everybody get in their respected places," Jefferson calls out, wrinkles lining the corners of his eyes.

Each team has four members who need to complete all the challenges. Whoever manages to finish all tasks the quickest, are the winners. And my team always wins.

"On your marks..." Jefferson bellows, his voice loud enough that he doesn't require a megaphone. "Get set..." Licking my lips and tasting sweat, I bend my knees, ready to take off. "Go!"

Sprinting forward, I head to the first task. The cowboy hat ring toss. Swiping at the closest hat, I gently toss it toward the stick. It lands perfectly over it, and I can't help shooting a smug grin towards Brea, who's hat flew straight over the top of the stick. The smile vanishes quickly when Nathan's lands just as smoothly. We risk a glance at each other briefly before we both surge forward onto the next task.

I can't remember a time Nathan and I weren't competitive with one another.

Rushing over to the first metal bucket, I drop to my knees and propel forward, dunking my head into the water. My hands tightly grip together behind my back as I hunt down an apple, trying to grab it with my teeth. Growling in frustration, I rest back on my calves and inhale a lungful of fresh air before diving in once more.

Suddenly, a bony shoulder rams into mine. Gritting my teeth, I snap my head back, glowering at Brea, who has parked herself beside me.

"How's it going, Cowboy?" she asks, her chest heaving from running.

"Good, until now," I grunt.

Smiling wickedly, she flings herself forward. Triumphantly, she scrambles to her feet with one of the apples clasped between her teeth. She takes off at a run, and when I see another competitor heading over my way, a rush of determination fills me. Slamming my head down again, I latch onto the apple fiercely and reel backward, taking off at a run, the water in my eyes blurring everything around me.

Depositing into the next bucket, I swipe my hands down my face to clear the excess water, and groan in anger when I see how far ahead Brea has gotten. She's faster than I realised.

Nathan is up ahead too, but Cassie is close behind me, and we are gaining on them slowly but surely. The next part of the challenge is to stack a pile of haybales up to the marker indicated on the makeshift brick wall they're propped up. Brushing past Brea, she turns to look at me, breathless, a light sheen of swear covering her forehead.

"Can you handle this with those puny arms, Angel?" I smirk, squeezing her long, slender arm with my fingers. Her skin is soft and warm, like it always is.

"Fuck you," she bites back, narrowing her eyes.

Grinning, I feel a thrill rise inside me at the challenge in her eyes. I like seeing this competitive side of her.

Curling my fingers around the bailing twine, I yank one of the haybales up, nudging her butt with the corner of it. She stumbles to the side, glowering hotly at me as my smirk continues to grow. I love seeing her riled up.

Since I do this every day, I fall into a quick, swift rhythm of piling the haybales into a neat stack, as the task instructed. Satisfaction wells in my chest when I step back, looking at a job well done, since my team is once more in the lead.

"Catch you on the flipside," I shout over my shoulder as my team and I take off to the next task.

Sweat slides down back as I push myself to run faster, adrenaline coursing through me, giving me more energy than what I've felt in a long time. This challenge is also making me realise how out of shape I've let myself get.

I should stop drinking, but I enjoy it so damn much.

The next part of the challenge is to build a tractor out of cardboard pieces that spread around on the grass. Since I have done this before, it doesn't take me long to locate the wheels, which is where I always start.

Pulling things apart has always been a speciality of mine. It's the putting it back together that I struggle a little more with. In this case though, it's easy, except for the sweat dripping into my eyes.

Our team works together like a well-oiled machine since I have had the same team for years now. Looking over, I see Brea on her knees, staring down at the bits of cardboard. She grabs one, holding it up, trying to figure out where it goes. Nathan is busy connecting it, since like me, he has done all of this before.

"You look gorgeous down on your knees, Angel," I shout-whisper at her.

"In your dreams, Cowboy."

"Yeah. Every night." I snicker.

"I'm going to vomit on you both," Nathan mutters, glaring at his sister. "Focus!"

Every year when I beat Nathan's team and get to witness his look of anguish. It's a memory I look back on when I need a pick-me-up. I wish I could take a photo, print it out, frame it, and display it proudly in my house. Or pub, rather, since more people would see it then.

Once the tractor is assembled, my team and I take off to the next task, which is to move one pile of bricks to the designated spot, via the wheelbarrow parked in the middle of the piles. I don't even get time to admire my handywork on constructing the measly thing together.

Reaching it, I push it back toward the first pile, where the rest of my team are already collecting the brick in their arms. Leaning onto the handles, they stack them in, and I drag my hand across my forehead, wiping away the sweat. Just as I push it forward, my muscles tensing in protest, the opposing teams catch up.

Every time I get ahead, it's like the other teams get a sudden second wind, allowing them to catch up somehow.

Gritting my molars, I push harder, determined not to let the fact that we are in the lead let me slack off in any way.

When we successfully complete the task, we sprint towards the next one, which is the final task of the challenge. This is where it really matters. The tug 'O' war. If a team gets there before the others and manages to get the red flag over the line, they are declared the winner. It's an easy task if you're ahead by a lot, but two of the other teams have caught up—Brea and Nathan's team included.

Diving toward the rope, I scramble for it, as Nathan skids to a stop, dirt flying up around him in a cloud of dust. I yank it as hard as I can just before his fingers circle around it. The flag jerks toward us, and over the line as quick as a blink.

My team erupt into cheers, and I stick my middle finger up to Nathan who is openly scowling at me. Bree hunches over, her hands on her thighs as she breathes hard, sweat making her shirt damp, clinging to her.

How does she look this sexy when she is a sweaty mess?

"Save your tears for the pillow big boy," I grin at him, unable to stop myself from gloating. This is the very moment I look forward to every year.

"Fuck you," Nathan snarls, his cheeks beetroot red. He plants his hands on his hips, his chest heaving.

"Your sister already did that," I smirk back, jokingly.

The smile vanishes from his face, and Brea quickly stands, her mouth dropping open. Cassie gasps behind me and everyone glances from me, towards the siblings.

"Kidding, man," I say, when I realise that it was not an appropriate joke to have made.

Nathan twists his narrowed gaze to Brea before he stalks off in the opposite direction to where everyone is slowly starting to gather. A look of disappointment falls across her face before she follows Nathan.

"For fuck sake, Zander," Cassie exhales, shaking her head. "Sometimes I truly think there is no hope for you."

My heart sinks into my chest at her words, as she too, follows Brea and Nathan in the direction of shade and water. Ignoring the stares of everyone around me, I make my way toward the tent, the rush of achievement I felt at winning quickly fading.

As usual, I fucked up.

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