Bad Influencer by Kenzie Reed

Chapter Eighteen

Jillian

We’re only at the starting line, and I’m already questioning my life choices. I’ve never jogged in my life. And I’m not a big fan of being dirty. When I signed us up, I was so happy picturing Elliott splattered with mud from head to toe that I didn’t really think about my part in this whole ordeal.

“You ready for this?” Elliott grins. He’s wearing a T-shirt, and jogging shorts that show off his muscular calves.

“So ready!” I say with a big, bright smile.

“You need to work on your lying skills,” he observes.

“On your marks…”

I don’t even hear the rest of the introduction, but the blast from the starting pistol has me bolting into action.

Elliott immediately pulls ahead. Big surprise. I’m following the crowd, but recalling the seven things I read online that I’m supposed to do in order to survive a mud run.

Yes… survive.

I’m surrounded by runners, but within minutes I’m falling behind to the back of the crowd. Elliott appears by my side, jogging slowly. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“What are you doing? You should be at the front of the pack,” I say, quickly scanning his perfectly toned body. That man has some very nice legs.

“Being a gentleman. We signed up together. That makes us a team. I stick with you.”

I pout only because I’m suddenly unsure that I want Elliott to witness just how unathletic I truly am. I mean, sure, I’m in shape, but being fit does not equate to being genetically gifted at sports. I hail from a family of attorneys… not athletes.

“What’s the plan?” he asks, and I shoot him a look.

“Try not to die. That’s the only plan I’ve got.”

He laughs, and he’s not the least bit out of breath. Meanwhile, I’m over here struggling to breathe in and out of my nose.

“Watch the competition,” he says, leaning down conspiratorially. “See what they do that works and what doesn’t.”

“Cheat?”

His head jerks back as though I’ve mortally offended him. “I don’t cheat. I simply make better choices based on others’ mistakes.”

Better choices. God, I wish I’d made better choices when I came up with this idea.

“What a very clever man you are, Mr. Bradford.”

He nods. “I can be resourceful.”

We approach a drop-off, and watch as several people disappear over the muddy cliff.

“I’ll go first and help you down.”

“No need,” I say, running ahead.

Mistake number one… do not think your ability to hike equals you being able to stay on your feet when mud’s involved. When there’s mud, all bets are off.

I learn this lesson as I’m falling ass over teakettle down the steep hill.

I’m covered in mud and ego-bruised.

“Need some help?”

Elliott stands over me, completely free of mud from his hips up, smirking. He extends his hand and, just to ensure he doesn’t go unscathed, I grab his arm, smearing mud up his toned forearms.

“So that’s how things are? Okay. Game on.” He winks, taking off and leaving me behind.

“Elliott,” I groan.

Ahead I see an obstacle course involving large tires and, further in the distance, a fence at least eight feet high that some people are already scaling. Things I could definitely use help with.

I take off in a sprint, hoping like hell that Elliott isn’t too far gone. Before long, I’m on his tail, which only proves that, despite his words, he’s still sticking close. The gentleman in him can’t help it. And thank God for that.

I’m about to call out to him when he drops to his knees at the first tire and begins crawling through. As much as I don’t love heights, I love confined spaces even less, and those tires, halfway filled with mud, look like a panic attack waiting to happen.

Elliott makes it through three of the tires before turning and locking eyes with me. “Come on,” he yells, and I shake my head back and forth vigorously. He narrows his eyes, and must see the panic on my face, because the next thing I know, he’s heading back towards me.

“Jillian, what’s wrong?” he asks when he’s made it through the first tire and is standing directly in front of me. His hands come to my shoulders, and he looks into my eyes as if he’ll find the answers there. “Jillian,” he repeats.

“I don’t like confined spaces.”

He makes an O with his mouth before sucking in his upper lip in contemplation.

“Okay… you’ll go over them.”

“Over?”

“I’ll lift you up and you’ll crawl down. We’ll do this together. Ready?”

My heart starts to beat a little faster, and a warm, tingly feeling washes through me.

He bends down so that we’re at eye level. “Ready?”

I nod, because I have no words. He’s stolen all coherent thought from me. My mind is mush as I stare goofily at his handsome face, wishing I were brave enough in this moment, surrounded by people, to lift up onto my toes and kiss him.

He links his hands together and gestures for me to place my foot in his palms so that he can hoist me up. I do as instructed, and soon I’m crawling over the top and dropping to the ground on the other side.

Elliott crawls through and meets me to start the process over until we’ve completed the tire challenge.

“We did it!” I cheer, and he gifts me with a grin that heats my insides to lava. “Well, you did it, and I was there.”

“Yeah, we did.” His sexy timbre doesn’t help. It makes me want to finish this race and run as far from him as possible. Because this Elliott could burn any walls I’ve built around myself to the ground with a single smirk.

The tides are shifting, and I fear I might be helpless against falling.

Just as I’m thinking that, just as the finish line is in sight, I slip and fall on my butt, landing in a mud puddle, and now I am completely, thoroughly coated in brown goo. There’s mud in my mouth, and I spit frantically. Elliott bends down and pulls me to my feet.

Then he flashes me a devilish grin. “See you on the other side.” And he jogs towards the finish line.

I stagger after him, slipping and sliding, but he ends up several runners ahead of me. I’m literally the third-to-last person in the entire run. Somehow that annoys me even more than being last.

At the finish line, the air is filled with the shouts and laughter of the poor suckers who made it to the end. Music blares from the speakers. I can barely hear myself think. I’ve got mud in every nook and cranny, and I know who to blame for this. And I don’t even care if I’m being fair.

I spin around to glare at Elliott. Well, I try to glare at Elliott. I can barely see because my eyes are crusted over with mud.

“You jerk. I can’t believe you let me do this. What were you thinking?”

“Excuse me, are you talking to me?” The blur in front of me has an English accent. Definitely not Elliott.

“Oh, sorry!” I turn away, waving my hands in the air. “Elliott? Elliott, where are you?” I shout. “I need to yell at someone!” Everything around me is a blur. A large clump of mud slides off my hair and splatters on my foot.

“You! Are you Elliott?” I shout accusingly. I try to wipe mud from my face, but since my hand’s also covered in muck, it actually makes things worse.

“I could be, if you give me your phone numbah.” This time it’s a Boston accent. Damn it, where the hell is Elliott?

“Excuse me, the lady is with me,” Elliott says from behind me. I spin around and open my mouth to yell at him, and mud slides down my face and into my mouth. I splutter and spit it out onto the ground.

Awesome. I am standing in front of Mr. Hotness, spitting out mud. I’ve never felt sexier.

“Here, hold still.” A steady stream of water hits my face, and I open my eyes to see Elliott standing there with a squirt bottle and a massively annoying smirk on his face.

“I told you so.” He hums the words as he sprays down my hands.

I let out a whimper. “Not helping. Also, I don’t want to go to the public showers. But our suite’s all the way across the park.”

“We can take the golf cart. I have one waiting for us, with a tarp thrown over the seats.” He’s grinning, his mouth a curved slice of delight in a muddy face. Damn him, he even looks handsome covered in swill.

“How can you see without your glasses?” I demand.

“I’m farsighted. And my prescription’s not that strong.”

I spot Bronwyn, Ari, Edith, Trevor and Wisteria, waving madly at us from behind the security fence.

“Way to go!” Ari yells. “Woo-hoo! Huzzah! You made it!”

“Looking good!” Bronwyn chimes in.

“Losers!” I yell back.

Ari cups his hands around his mouth to shout his reply. “We’re clean losers, though! I can live with that!” Edith grins and gives me a double thumbs up. She’s wearing a pale pink pantsuit without a single speck on it. How dare she be so clean? Where’s her company loyalty?

I turn my attention back to Elliott, blinking blearily through the muddy tendrils of hair that hang in front of my face.

“I can’t believe those sons of bitches didn’t run with us. I mean, it’s for a good cause!” I’m also kind of annoyed that his parents aren’t there, as usual, but that’s between him and them.

“You’re just mad at them because they were all smarter than you.” Elliott holds up the spray bottle and squirts his own face, sending streams of mud running down the sides.

“Damn straight I am.”