Page 27 of Special Delivery

“So far, we have Emma and Jordan, and Paige and Ryan with one point each. We also have Kim and Roger, who are obviously having a good time, and they still have a chance to make this a tie in our third game,” Anthony comments.

I look to my mom, who is currently chasing Roger with a wet towel. Once again, she looks carefree. Happy. How can the woman next to me look at them and see anything other than a couple sickeningly in love?

The taste of victory turns sour in my mouth, but Anthony is already leading us to the third and final course.

“The last game of the day is the blindfold race. One of you will be blindfolded and you’ll have to maneuver these obstacles before throwing the ball into the hole. The other one will be the caller, guiding you through the obstacles.”

“Is your father a Survivor fan? Or possibly a fan of The Office?” I ask Paige. This reminds me of episodes in both shows.

“What?” she asks, not even looking at me. Her focus is on the rules of the game, nothing else.

“Never mind.”

The course is pretty impressive. There are some chests and poles as obstacles, and the board with a hole we’re supposed to aim at is about fifteen feet in the water.

Paige decides I’ll be the one blindfolded. “This is it. We just need to win this one, and that’s it.”

“Is that your pep talk?”

She rolls her pretty eyes at me. “Stop taunting and focus on the game.”

“Me? We almost lost the last one because you were too busy staring at my arms.”

“I wasn’t…” she starts to say, but I flex my biceps, pulling her attention to them. “Stop it! Focus.”

“Are you talking to me or to yourself?” My teeth dig into my lip to hide my smile.

She rolls her eyes before motioning her finger for me to turn around so she can blindfold me. Instead of dainty fingers, I get the rough treatment. She ties the blindfold like I’m cattle, snapping my head back a few times.

“Geez, buy me dinner first.” It’s my attempt at a joke, but she grabs a strand of my hair, tugging it playfully, and I fight to swallow a moan.

“Callers, place your players at the starting mat,” Anthony tells us.

Paige wraps her fingers around my shoulders, leading me to my left. Then she’s gone. Anthony counts us in, and we’re off.

“Over, over!” Paige’s voice pierces my eardrums like she’s right next to me. I lift a leg, but there’s nothing in front of me. “Not yet! Take two more steps and then go over.”

Jordan matches her, shouting at Emma at full volume. Finally, I find a chest with my hands and climb over it. I stumble on the way down, but Paige is having none of it.

“Get up. Hurry!”

I hear a low thud and a groan next to me, right before my stomach smacks into something, knocking the breath out of my lungs. “Under! You need to go under.”

“Thanks,” I murmur quietly, making Emma giggle next to me. “Are they always like this?” I ask her.

“Yup. You should join us for game night. It’s a massacre.”

I huff a laugh, but Jordan and Paige don’t appreciate our two-second pause, each screaming at us to keep going. Since she’s the only one who has made no snide comments about Mom, I can exclude Emma from my hate train.

Paige, on the other hand, is moving up on the list. “Can you fucking listen to me, Ryan? Right! I told you to go right.”

I’m more careful now that I’ve sustained a few injuries from the objects in my way. I’m pretty sure both my knees are bruised. Rolling my closed eyes, I take a step to the right.

“Other riiight!” she yells at me.

My teeth grind together. “You mean left?”

“Focus. We’re almost there.”