“Three? Why do I have to do this?” Michael asks.
“You can ask your wife that question,“ Lennox says. “Something about clipping your toenails in bed.”
“That’s disgusting dude,” I say at the same time Trent says, “Nasty.”
Michael’s face turns bright pink. “Who knew one nail would make her bleed like tha—”
“Please don’t continue,” Lennox stops him. “I don’t need to know what you do in the bedroom. Bring it up with her. Either way, you’re doing this.”
“Fine. Only because these two idiots have been making my job harder.”
Trent tries to protest, but Lennox throws her hands up. “Work it out in the pit.”
I slip my socks and shoes off, then my polo. “I, for one, am appreciative of the effort you put into this.” I run my hands up my arm to fight off the slight chill.
“Kiss up,” Trent mutters.
“Never said I’d play fair, brother,” I grin.
“Why would you start now?”
“When I blow the whistle, you go,” Lennox says, cutting off my next remark. “I need to put Emmett down for a nap, but I have a clear view from his room. You have until I’m done to fix this.” She points between me and Trent.
“What about Grant?” Michael asks.
He’s being quite the whiny baby tonight.
Grant grins from his seat. “I’m just here to make sure no one kills each other.”
“Great, so everything else counts?” I ask.
He shrugs.
Lennox blows a whistle, and I rush into the pit. I’m stunned by the tepid temperature but plunge through the muck anyway. I’m bending over to begin my search when I’m body slammed from behind. I go face first, butt up into the sludge.
“Sorry,” Trent mutters, digging through the mud beside my face.
I heave my body up. “For what? It was just a little tap.” I offer him a little ‘tap’ in return, sending him backward and down with a thick splash.
His eyes narrow. He pushes to his feet but slips and goes back down, giving me time to search for the key.
My hand hits something hard. Just a rock. I toss it.
Trent resumes his search. I’m not sure where Michael is. My hand brushes something thin and pointy.
A key. I hold the small object up to double-check.
“Thanks, bro.” Michael snatches it out of my hand.
My beef isn't with him, so I let him go. But not before grabbing his leg out from under him. It’s only fair.
Mud slaps my face. My eyes instantly burn, and I struggle to clear them. The second I get them free, I’m pummeled to the ground by pure rage. Trent’s, to be specific. It’s evident in the vice grip he’s got around my shoulders.
I shoot my arm up and break his hold, spinning around to tackle him. “Do you have something to say?”
“Nope.” He glares before flipping me onto my back.
I cough up mud and what little air is left in my lungs, but Trent is on top of me.
