The Dare (The Bet #3)(31)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"Oh no, you don’t. You could have more Franks in your pants. No way I’m taking a chance of one of them touching me. Who knows what voodoo that Viagra cast on you."

"So many things wrong with that sentence, Beth. So many things."

"Be free, Frank!" The guide let the spider loose and turned to face us.

"Bye, Frank!" Beth waved.

"Stop waving." I grabbed her hand.

She jerked free of my grip. "Chill. It’s not like he bit you."

"And you noticed that when? Before or after you took off screaming, leaving me to die in the middle of the sugarcane field?"

Beth’s eyes narrowed. "You’re just pissed because you’re the worst explorer ever, don’t know where North is, and would totally get voted off Survivor Island."

"I would rather bomb the island with me on it, than have to run through a sugarcane field again. But if you wanna try out for Survivor, be my guest."

"Ahem." Our guide cleared his throat. "If it is okay with you two, we’ll continue our expedition with the horseback ride."

"Saddle up, cowboy." Beth winked and slapped my ass. "Or are you scared of horses too?"

"I will ride that horse so damn hard…" I stopped talking. My body had failed me earlier today, and now it seemed my mind was last to go.

Beth’s eyes shone with humor.

Our guide brought over the horses. I assumed the short ugly one who looked like a hundred years old was Beth’s, but she was already getting on a different one, leaving me with Donkey from Shrek and a sinking feeling that one of us wasn’t going to make it through the jungle alive.

Chapter Seventeen

"Do you feel guilty?"tThe agent asked.

"For?"

"For potentially harming innocent people with your schemes and ministrations?"

"I’m sorry." Grandma shook her head. "I don’t understand the question?"

Jace

"How’s the ass?" Beth called behind her as I let out another streak of swear words into the trees.

"Angry."

"Maybe he’s hungry."

"No, I’m going to go ahead and go with angry. I’d be pissed if a two-hundred-pound man was riding me too."

"Maybe you should stop talking for a while." She laughed. "You’re not doing so well with the whole stringing-words-together thing."

"Damn mating spiders threw me off."

"And again, point proven. Maybe this should be quiet time where you stare longingly at me and say I’m beautiful and irresistible and—"

"Can we switch animals?" I complained as Donkey let out a fart that smelled like dead chicken and enchilada. How was this supposed to be a romantic excursion?

She turned around and smirked as Donkey made another grunt and tried to catch up. "No."

"Please?"

"Be the prince, Jace!"

"My noble steed’s older than Grandma! I need a steed!"

Donkey farted again, this time gifting me with the smell of roses. If roses smelled like burning flesh.

"Such a stud." She chuckled. Her posture was perfect on the horse as it galloped ahead. It made her look like some sort of avenging princess storming the castle.

Shit. Did that make me the damsel?

"Beth…" I growled. "I take it this isn’t impressing you or making you feel like you’re living in some damn romance novel."

She stopped the horse and turned around. "Take off your shirt, and we’ll talk."

"No." I shook my head firmly. "I have to draw the line somewhere. I’m not going to take off my shirt while riding an ancient donkey through the jungles of Hawaii."

"Fairytale." Beth coughed, her damn eyes lighting up with humor, while mine narrowed with self-loathing and defeat.

"Why yes, Channel Six News, I am a prostitute. Want to see my client list? Oh, Senator Brevik? He’s so extravagant!"

"Well played." With jerky movements, I finally managed to get Donkey to stop walking and peeled off my shirt. "Happy?"

"Immensely." She sighed happily. "Now mush."

"Not at the Iditarod," I called after her.

"So what are we supposed to say?" she grumbled. "Our guide is too far ahead of us, and I’m not getting lost again."

"I don’t know, say please?" I really had no experience with animals or nature. My hikes had been by the Columbia River, not in spider territory.

Hybrid Metrosexual: Man who likes showers more than dirt but still knows how to smoke cigars and chop wood. See also: Tom Hardy.

"Go!" Beth pulled on the reigns and then kicked her heels into horse’s sides.

Of course, it reared up.

And, of course, it took off into a gallop.

She wanted a fairytale ending?

"Donkey! Go!" I kicked the donkey’s sides. It turned its head and looked at me like I was some sort of irritating fly, buzzing around his overly large ears. "Donkey, go!"

"Well, shit."

The donkey hee-hawed and took off into a gallop after Beth. I held on for dear life as the ride jolted my teeth near out of my head. Really? Shit was his word?

"Beth!"

The donkey slowed.

"Shit, donkey. Shit!"

Hello, second wind.

"Jace!" she called from behind her. "What do I do?"

The guide had stopped his own horse and was looking on. He took an apple out of his bag and bit into it as juice ran down his chin.

"A little help!" I yelled as Donkey decided to slow down to a walk.

"The horse will stop when it wants to stop," the guide yelled back.

Tour guide, my ass. Had we even signed release forms?

"Beth, pull on the reigns!"

Donkey was gaining on her. Okay that was a lie. Mold grew faster than the animal was moving.

"Tug them back and say halt!"

"Halt!" Beth yelled, pulling on the reigns.

The horse reared up again, this time causing Beth to fall out of the saddle and down the horse’s backside, directly into a puddle of water.

But hey, the horse stopped. So I counted it a win.

"Whoa there, boy, whoa."

The donkey screeched to a halt or, if you were watching, slowly took one last step and began chewing on the grass next to Beth’s foot.

I jumped off and ran toward her, much like a prince rescuing the fair damsel. You know, if the prince rode an ass and used a hair dryer to fight off spiders. Then sure, I was the prince. "Are you hurt?"

"I don’t think so?" Beth touched her fingers to her temples and shook her head a few times. "But I’m going to have a bruise on my entire backside for at least a month."