“My last clean finger. From now on I won’t be able to help wipe away your mud mustache.”
She arched a brow. “What? You don’t think I can pull off the mud mustache?”
Before he could insist that if anyone could, it was her, they were interrupted by a pair of camo-wearing men on four-wheelers. Despite their alleged “no chicks” policy, Spark and Steve hadn’t made a fuss about Yasmin tagging along to help out. With the mud run less than twenty-four hours away and several of their usual volunteers down with a nasty case of Partied-Too-Hard-At-The-Festival-Itis they seemed grateful for the extra pair of hands.
“You two need a ride back to the start of the course?” Spark asked. “We’re all finished up on our end.”
Noah raised a brow in Yasmin’s direction, but she shook her head. He turned back to the other men with a wave of his hand. “You go on ahead. We’re going to stay and make sure the mud here has the perfect consistency before we head out.”
Steve gave them a thumbs up. “Commitment to mess. That’s what I like to see.”
“It’s all Yasmin,” Noah said. “She’s a mud-making animal. You should let her supervise a section next year.”
Spark shot Yasmin an appraising look and nodded. “All right, short stack. If you’re up for it.”
“Short stack?” She bristled beside him. “I’ll let that slide this time because you’re inviting me to come play in the mud. But next time…” She lifted an ominous little fist and Spark laughed.
“Gotcha, killer. You two have fun. See you at the starting line tomorrow.”
Spark and Steve turned their four-wheelers around and headed back toward the start of the course. Noah watched them cruise over the hills before turning back to Yasmin to find her watching him with a calculating look.
“What?” he asked, fighting the urge to reach out and pull her close, the same urge that had been making his fingers itch since the moment she showed up for their date wearing a tight little pair of spandex running shorts and a simple brown tank top that for some reason made the naughtier half of his imagination run wild.
“I was just thinking. Now that we’re alone…”
His brows drifted higher on his forehead. “Yes?
She blinked innocently. “I mean, how can we tell our section’s mud is muddy enough unless we really get in there and do a comprehensive test?”
Noah made a thoughtful noise. “So you want to test the mud?”
“I know Spark and Steve are against running the obstacles until the day of the course, but this wouldn’t be cheating. It would be quality control.” She propped her hands on her hips and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. “And we could even add a little wager to make things more fun.”
“What kind of wager do you have in mind? Loser pays for ice cream?”
She shook her head. “I was thinking of something a little more exciting. Say, if you’re the first one down the hill, across the monkey bars, and back on the grass on the other side of the trenches, I’ll cook you an authentic Chinese-Texan meal tonight at my place.”
He smiled. “Chinese-Texan, huh? Sounds exotic.”
“It’s a unique fusion of homemade Chinese noodles and Texas brisket combined with whatever vegetables happen to be lying around in the veggie crisper. And sometimes homemade barbecue sauce, if my mom was feeling really creative and disgusting on any given Sunday.”
His mouth stretched wider at the edges. “Skip the barbecue sauce and you’ve got a deal. And in the unlikely event that you win, what would you like as your prize?”
“Oh, smack talk,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Keep it coming, O’Sullivan. That only kicks my fierce up a notch, and you really don’t want me to win this race.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because if I win, you have to take me to the dance Sunday night and not run away to hide in the shadows, no matter how crazy I get on the floor.”
He crossed his arms at his chest. “That would involve changing my plane flight, which I’m prepared to do,” he added quickly, “but only if we add to my prize.”
She nodded. “All right. What more do you want? I could cook dinner in my apron and nothing else.”
He bit his bottom lip. “Tempting. Very, very tempting. But I was thinking along more practical lines. If I win, I get dinner tonight and you spend tomorrow helping me house hunt.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “House hunt for…you?”
“For me,” he confirmed, shifting closer. “I got to thinking last night, and if I’m going to be moving here eventually, it makes sense to go ahead and find a place. Especially if the move might happen sooner than I expected. And I could use a local to make sure I don’t buy a house next to the town crazy or the lady who plays show tunes at the crack of dawn every morning.”