He glanced at the man, who he didn’t detest quite as much as he had before the bloody race started. But that didn’t mean he wanted the bloke getting together with Libby.
This was it—the final push.
The crowd roared. Spectators rang bells and blew into noisemakers as the lady racers crossed the finish line, capturing first place. And crikey, he was proud as hell of Libby and Plum, but he couldn’t start cheering yet. No, he and Beefcake couldn’t let up. Doug and Ace were right there, running like their lives depended on it. The donkeys’ hooves hit the path in unison, mimicking their human’s matching strides. They were like synchronized swimmers—but the slightly terrifying donkey racing version. They sailed past the finish line as another devastating reality took hold.
He and Doug had tied for second place.
What did that mean for the bloody benchmark? He wanted to punch himself in the mouth for suggesting it.
“Whoa, easy, Beefcake,” he called as the animal slowed down, still in step with Ace.
“Dad, Mibby won!” Sebastian called from across the square where the boy stood next to Plum and Libby.
As Maud pinned a blue ribbon to the donkey’s bridle, their friends waved to him from the periphery of photographers and press surrounding the winner and her burro.
“We’ve never had a tie before,” Wobbly Bob said, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Head over to Maud. We want to get a picture of the three of you.”
Raz nodded to his friends and Granny Fin, standing off to the side, then worked his way through the mass of photographers. Like how they’d ponied up at the starting line, Doug and Ace flanked Libby and Plum on one side as he and Beefcake stood on the other.
Libby leaned in toward him, pink-cheeked from exertion. “I can’t believe Plum and I won.”
“I can. You’re a force to be reckoned with,” he said, staring into her eyes. Jesus, he’d had a feeling that everything would change after today, but he hadn’t expected this outcome. It was as if his only shot at happiness was slipping through his fingers—like the universe decided to throw another wrench into the workings of his life. He’d stopped running, but his heart still beat like he was sprinting down the side of the mountain.
“I think that glut of butterflies should get the real credit for our win,” she said as a flock of butterflies flitted away in his belly.
He couldn’t let this wave of emotion overtake him.
Get a grip.
“One of the reporters mentioned that the butterflies migrate through here this time of year,” Libby added. “And sorry for screaming about a rockslide. It wasn’t much more than some gravel and small stones coming loose, but it freaked me out.”
“It’s all right. I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m proud of you, plum. I am,” he said, doing everything he could to keep his voice steady.
“It’s a silly race,” she said, not meeting his gaze.
“It’s not silly. It’s your victory.”
“My victory,” she repeated like it was coming together in her head. “Why did you stop running, Raz? What were you and Doug doing in the middle of the trail?”
He sighed. “Rescuing a toad.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “A toad?”
“Yeah, it was in the middle of the trail, and the donkeys were fascinated with it. They wouldn’t move until we picked it up.”
“Where is it now?”
“We dropped him off at his girlfriend’s place on the other side of the creek.”
He’d been thwarted by a horny toad.
She looked him over. “Did you bump your head during the toad rescue?”
“No,” he said, gazing into her eyes, getting bloody misty like a preteen mooning over the heartthrob Landon Paige. “I know it sounds bizarre, but that’s what happened.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Doug. “What happens now, Raz?”
He wished he knew.
“I don’t know,” he answered, heartsick. He’d started this day so sure of how it would end. With his second-place tie with Zen Dougie, he couldn’t even begin to decipher what the universe was trying to tell him.
“Hey, Libby?” Doug called.
“Yes?”
“I’d love to take you to the lookout on Rickety Rock Mountain. We could grab a bottle of wine and watch the sunset,” the man offered. And as much as he wanted to throttle the guy, he couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend time with Libby.
“That sounds…nice,” she replied, glancing between him and the golden-haired yogi.
“Look this way, please,” a photographer called, interrupting the awkward moment. “We need one more shot for the Pack Burro Racing Association.”
Raz stared blankly into the camera as his thoughts raced. He should spill his guts to her now—tell her he needed her, tell her that when they were together, he forgot about the pain that weighed him down. Forget the universe and his stupid winner-gets-the-girl ultimatum. His stomach twisted into knots.
“Got it, thank you,” the photographer said with a nod as the press migrated toward the finish line to get shots of the other racers.
“Hey, Sebastian, tell Libby and your dad to look at me and say cheese,” Oscar chimed, holding up his Polaroid camera. “This can be the picture that goes in the frame I’m making you for your birthday,” the boy added.
“Dad, pick me up,” Sebastian called, grinning from ear to ear.
He scooped up his son with one arm, barely holding it together. What did his second-place finish mean for his son?
“Isn’t it great that Mibby and Plum won?” Sebastian asked.
He stared at the nanny, smiling at her friends as Charlotte snapped photos of his raven-haired beauty. “Yeah, it is, son.”
“Too bad you tied with that plonker, Dougie,” Sebastian added, lowering his voice.
Raz shot a glance at his counterpart in toad rescue. “Doug’s actually not that bad of a bloke.”
“You sure?” Sebastian asked, eyeing the man.
“Yeah, he and I saved a toad together.”
Sebastian frowned. “But he likes Mibby. He looks at her the same way Phoebe looks at hot dogs and cookies.”
Raz tried to smile. “It’s hard not to like Mibby,” he answered, taking in the woman. That lovely light shimmered around her, sparkling like diamonds in a sea of blue-violet.
“Smile!” Oscar instructed, but he couldn’t comply. He couldn’t look away from Libby.
“Did you get it, Oscar?” Sebastian asked, wiggling out of his embrace, then skipped over to his friends. Phoebe joined the boys, and the trio stared at the photo, waiting for it to develop, when a few donkey rescue volunteers came up to them. The people congratulated them, then took Plum, Beefcake, and Ace’s leads and led the donkeys to an enclosed area of the square. Brimming with fresh hay, cut-up vegetables, and water, the helpers removed the packs from the animals’ backs, then allowed them to indulge in a donkey feast. Beefcake saddled up on one side of Plum, getting his fill of carrots, as Ace moved in on Plum’s other side, starting in on the hay.
“What do you say, Libby?” Doug asked. “I’d love to spend some time with you before I leave for Tibet.”