Parental Guidance (Ice Knights #1)(18)

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked.

She rolled over onto her back. He was on the platform, staring down at her. His dark hair was tousled, and the Ice Knights T-shirt he wore showed off his broad shoulders and biceps to perfection.

“I’m good.” Good at being an idiot who’d wanted to kiss her very-much-non-date.

Worse. She hadn’t just wanted to kiss him. She’d wanted to help him clear his cobwebs. It had been easy to blow off how hot he was when she thought he was another oversexed pro athlete. But fifteen women? His entire life? Sure, for some people that would be a big number, but she figured he’d be in triple digits. The fact that his number was closer to hers than an average pop star’s had her discombobulated to the point that she didn’t even think before she’d rushed across the tight rope. And then when he’d lifted her up and he smelled so good and her entire body was tuned in to his and everything was just so—

“Do you need help getting off?” Caleb asked.

Help getting off? Oh, if only that was possible in the no-orgasms-with-others zone. She shook her head. She couldn’t have heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“Do you need help getting back up here?” he asked, this time making his voice loud enough that the people just starting the rock wall probably heard him.

“I’m good.” If imagining what he’d do to help her get off was good, which—to be clear—it was not. “I’ll be right there.”

She made her way back up the ladder to the platform. The tiny platform. The teeny tiny itty-bitty platform. It was hard to figure out where to stand so she wouldn’t be touching him. He was definitely a no-touch zone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He tucked some hair that had gotten loose in her fall behind her ear. “We don’t have to finish this.”

“I’m not the kind of person who gives up.” Even if the leaderboard had them hovering near last now.

He grinned. “Then it’s game time.”

High on adrenaline and needing to get away before she did something stupid—again—Zara leaped onto the first of the padded spinning bars and, by the grace of God, finally made it across to the next platform. Her breaths came in hard pants as she watched Caleb rush across the spinning bars. Thanks to the fact that he was wearing loose-fitting shorts, she got some glorious views of his thighs working overtime as he did so.

Stop noticing that.

The distraction had hit the level that she didn’t move out of the way in time, and he nearly pounced on her in his final leap to the platform. She let out a squeak of alarm and stumbled back, nearly tumbling off the platform.

“Whoa,” Caleb called out, reaching for her and dragging her back from the edge.

That she ended up with her face pressed into his chest—thank you, height difference—at least worked to her advantage to cover up the fact that she took a deep inhale of his scent. God. What was wrong with her? He hated mashed potatoes. Only sociopaths hated mashed potatoes. It was a sign on top of all the other ways they were total and complete opposites that made this whole thing crazy.

“Thanks,” she said, her words muffled by the wall of muscle he called his chest, and took a half step back while hoping the extra few inches would clear her head.

It did. Sorta. She was aware enough to read the sign explaining the rules for the next obstacle, at least.

Zara tapped the part of the rules written in bold. “We’re skipping that part, right?”

His jaw tightened as his attention moved over to the sign and he narrowed his eyes, everything about him going from loose and easy to hard and tense with the added bonus of uncomfortable silence. She was trying to work out the reason for the change—shit, had she accidentally kneed him in the balls when he’d pulled her back from the brink?—when he let out a harsh breath.

“Rules are rules,” he said. “We’ve got to swing over to the next platform together.”

They both looked at the single heavy rope hanging next to the platform. According to the directions, they were to each put a foot in one of the loops made for that purpose, hold on to each other, and swing in a wide arc to the next, lower platform. Then, do it again to a platform closer to the floor and again on a platform only a few feet above the padded mat until they were back on the ground, the course completed.

Caleb grabbed the rope, steadying it. “You get on first.”

“This is going to be a disaster,” she said as she put her foot in the loop and wrapped her hands around the rope, the fibers scratching her palms.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He jiggled the rope a little, chuckling when she shot him the evil eye in return. “We land face-first on the net. Again.”

Looking around, she noticed that most of the Bramble daters were already done and watching the slowpokes still on the course. Some even had their phones out, no doubt to get a shot of Caleb to put up on social media. Great.

“Public humiliation while swinging on a rope with an optimist,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the last word. “Just what a woman loves on a second date.”

“What can I say, I’m the total package.” He put a foot in the hold and shoved off with the other one. “Let’s do this.”

They swung through the air in a long, sweeping half circle that made the tail of her bedraggled ponytail fly and her heart speed up. It was an amazingly free rush and, as they sailed by the second platform, she reached out for the pole without even worrying if it was possible. Somehow she just knew it would work.