Rating M

Disclaimer – Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight –
I just like to get weird with her characters.

Much love and thanks to my beta love, Carrie ZM, and my wonderful pre-readers,
Planetblue and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy for all the time you've put into this fic.
Writing with you girls is always a blast!

Stepping down from his ginormous truck, Emmett closes his eyes and inhales deeply though his nose. "It's gonna be a good day, Swan." He claps once. "A good day to get dirty."

"If you say so." I tug on the bright yellow tee of my uniform. "You swear there's a beer tent at the end of this mud run?"

"Scout's honor."

"You weren't a scout." He waves me off. "And why are you wearing a soldier's helmet?"

"Because I'm about to move a team across land. Trenches, swamps, slip-n-slides. I'm the General, Swan. El Cap-i-tan. The Mudder Ducking boss." I kinda have to give him props on our team name, the Mudder Duckers. "There's my Rosie!"

"BABY!" Rose squeals, hopping into Em's arms and kissing his stupid face. "We were wondering when you guys would get here." She gives me a sheepish grin after yet another naked run-in by the bathroom this morning. "Hey Bella."

"Heyyyy."

The rest of Em's gym buddies are there as well, along with Rose's roommate, Lauren, and her boyfriend, Tyler. They look like the cast of Baywatch, all fit and flexing for their pre-mud run selfies.

"Group pic!" Rose shouts, gathering everyone together. "Oh hey, E.C! You made it. Get in the picture."

"Sure." My head snaps up at the sound of his voice, only to see the hottest Mudder Ducker here moving to stand beside me for the team pic. Mouthing a quick 'hi' he leans in to pose for the photo. Once the camera clicks, he turns to chat with Rose again. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was insane."

"No worries." Rose introduces Edward to the rest of the team before tugging on one of my pigtail braids, winking slyly. "And of course you remember our Bella."

"I do." He chuckles a bit and rubs his jaw. "How've you been?"

"Great." I nod, trying to ignore Emmett thrusting his hips a few feet behind him. This is my first time seeing him since my visit to the dispensary; although we've had some contact through a handful of emails and some super awkward voicemails. Playful, but mostly professional. "You?"

"Can't complain. How's my cactus?"

"Alive and well."

"Good work."

"Yeah well, what can I say? I learned from the best."

He smirks.

"Plus it loves my singing, so …"

"Mudder Duckers," Em calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Huddle up!"

Unrolling a map of the obstacle course, he delivers a passionate motivational speech; chock full of inspirational quotes and thinly-veiled threats for anyone who performs poorly. I don't miss that he side-eyes me when he mentions performance.

"All right, hands in, everyone," Em yells and I reach in only too happy to have Edward's hand covering mine. "Word to your mudder on three. One, two, three!"

"You ready for this?" Edward asks me as we near the starting line, stretching his arm across his body.

I make a half-assed attempt at stretching my legs, lunges or whatever Emmett calls them. "Not really, but it's for a good cause."

"And there's a beer tent at the end," Emmett interrupts, flashing a big dimpled smile.

Edward laughs and I just shrug. "So yeah, there's that too."

"Bella's not what you'd call," he makes air quotes, "agile or remotely," more air quotes, "physically fit."

"But Bella can still," now I'm making air quotes, "kick your ass."

The starting gun fires and I find myself sprinting Hunger Games style to the first obstacle, a 20 yard trench filled with three feet of water. One by one, I watch our team jump in, trudging through the water effortlessly. The second my feet hit the mud, I can feel myself sinking. By the time I reach the end, my thighs are burning and my calves are screaming for mercy.

"Gimme your hand!" Edward yells from just above the trench. He pulls me out of the water but doesn't let go once we're running again. "Rope swing. You ready?"

"Totally ready." Sure it's a small fib, but it comes out sounding confidently bad-ass and that's what matters. Unless of course, I take a nose-dive into the mud pit below which would be tragically embarrassing. Grabbing the rope, I take a deep breath. The distance is doable so I mutter a quick 'fuck it', run, and swing.

"You did it!" I hear him yell from behind me as I find my footing. He swings across smoothly, landing with a graceful thud before reaching for my hand again. "Let's go."

Twenty yards of high knees through tires, three brutal monkey bar exercises, and a crippling series of muddy incline mountain climbers later, I'm breathing all heavy like I just put the fitted sheet on my bed and cursing Emmett's name.

"Is there a crash cart at the end of this course?" I wheeze as Edward practically drags me to the next obstacle. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need it."

"No," he huffs, shaking his head, "but there is a beer tent."

"I'm probably going to need that, too."

"You and me both. Last one." He jerks his head to the giant mud mountain-looking thing in front of us.

"We climb the hill, then slip-n-slide down the other side."

"Pass."

Laughing, he throws an arm around my shoulder. "Come on now. You've got this." I snort because the only thing I've got is mud in my nether-regions. But then I look up at him and he's unabashedly staring back at me amused, and I can feel his arm tightening around me, pulling me closer. His voice drops, sweet and low in my ear. "We've got this."

Something about the word 'we' does funny things to me and I relent. "Fine. Let's do it!"

"That's my girl!" He winks. "Okay, so …" I can't be sure, but I think he's giving me instructions on how to climb this mud heap, but I'm still caught up in him using the words 'my' and 'girl' together in a sentence and about me, nonetheless. Part of me is actually grateful for the caked-on mud splotches on my cheeks because they're camouflaging a thoroughly heated blush. "And you should be good to go," he finishes, looking at me expectantly.

"Sounds easy enough," I lie, too embarrassed to tell him I was stuck on stupid and didn't hear a word he said.

We step up to the base of the hill. "All right, here we go. Remember, dig in and make sure your foot's planted so you have enough traction to move."

"Got it." I grab the heavy mud-covered rope and give it a quick tug while he does the same a few feet away from me. "Plant foot, traction to move."

The first twenty or so feet aren't bad. I've got his little mantra going in my head. Dig in. Plant. Pull and step.

It works great.

Until it doesn't.

As the incline gets steeper, it gets harder to dig in. I can't seem to get any traction and the only thing keeping me upright is my grip on the mud-slicked rope. I sneak a glance at Edward who seems to having a little trouble getting his footing as well. He's gorgeous though, flexing and stretching his arms and legs, with this cute little furrow on his brow. If my arms and legs weren't burning and tears weren't welling up in my eyes, I'm sure I'd sigh dreamily.

His gaze shifts to mine, a pained smile on his face. "How're you holding up over there?"

"Piece of cake," I grit out through clenched teeth.

He reaches the summit several minutes later and waits there for me, kneeling at the top of my rope, encouraging me with kind words and beer selection possibilities. The last thing I see is his sweet, smiling face cheering me on before my feet slip out from beneath me.

And I face-plant.

Hard.

Like a full throttle belly flop.

As if hitting the ground with my forehead isn't horrific enough, my body slides down the hill and all I can hear around me is Edward's quiet 'oh shit' and Emmett at the finish line asking if anyone got that on video. I hate him.

"You okay?" I hear Edward yell when I grab the rope to stop myself from slithering down further.

"Totally fine," I lie again, wiping handfuls of mud off my face and throwing it to the ground with a plop. "Just lost my footing."

With fierce determination and a series of loud and utterly unladylike grunts, I trudge to the top where he once again pulls me up to stand beside him. "Thanks," I whisper, barely able to catch my breath. "That kinda sucked."

"Yeah, that uh," he winces when I pull a clump of mud from my hair and chuck it down the hill, "didn't go as planned, huh?"

"Definitely not."

"If it's any consolation, you look pretty bad ass right now."

"You're a terrible liar."

He throws his arm back around my shoulders again, leading me over to the slip-n-slide. "I'm serious. You look like—"

"Like the kid who jumped into the outhouse toilet on Slumdog Millionaire?" He turns away but I can feel his body shaking with laughter. "I do, don't I?"

"Not at all." I give him a look and he concedes. "Maybe a little."

"Awesome."

"So together?" he asks, tipping his head towards the slip-n-slide and holding his hand out for me to take.

I smile, wishing he was talking about more than just a quick glide down a plastic tarp. "Head or feet first?

"However you want to do this."

"Together." My fingers slide between his. "Feet first."

A slip, a slide, a few team pictures and a makeshift shower later, we're sitting in the beer tent, throwing back a well deserved Solo cup of shitty beer. Emmett's laughing so hard he's nearly crying, playing my fall over and over on his buddy's phone and begging me to let him put it on YouTube.

I cover my face. "It's so mortifying."

"I know, I love it!" Em cackles, playing it again in slow-motion.

"You know I can destroy you, right?"

"You can try."

I lean in and lower my voice. "Two words. Male cheerleader."

He gasps. "You wouldn't."

"Delete the video and I won't have to."

"Never," he whispers.

"Hey Rose!"

"Ssshh!" He covers my mouth with his hand. "Fine. It'll never see the light of day."

Sulking, Em stalks off to mourn the loss of his possible viral YouTube hit, leaving Edward and I alone at last. He's making a face at his beer.

"Hardly worth it, huh?" I ask, motioning towards his drink.

"I wouldn't say that. The beer's pretty awful, but this was fun."

"It was, minus the whole face-plant thing."

"Yeah other than that." He laughs a bit and swirls his cup in his hands. "So, I've been meaning to thank you again in person. The article was fantastic."

"Oh good! I'm glad you liked it."

"Carlisle did too. It's been great for business."

I sip my beer. "How so?"

"We've had a few investor inquiries and weed reviewers wanting to try the strain, which is huge with the cup coming up."

"Which Cannabis Cup are you entering?"

The corner of his mouth tips up. "Amsterdam."

"That's the big one, right?" He nods and takes a quick drink. "Just gonna jump right in with the big boys, huh?"

"We're pretty confident." For a split second he looks like a smug, muddy version of Carlisle before he ducks his head down and focuses on his beer. "I mean we've put years into this strain. I think we've got a real shot."

"We do too."

"We?"

"We meaning my boss, Aro and me. He's interested in extending your story. Maybe even following your whole Cannabis Cup experience or something."

"Really?"

"Yep. The article got lots of hits, and he wants to capitalize by jumping on the green bandwagon."

"Carlisle's going to love that."

"I thought he might."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you jumping on the green bandwagon?"

"I don't know about all that," I say with a laugh, tapping my fingers on my cup, "but I'm pretty impressed by your business."

"Well thanks. I'm really impressed with your work as well."

"You read my stuff?"

He nods. "I did and I like it a lot. Especially the In Ink series you did with the late night tattoo parlor stories."

My cheeks heat. "Thanks."

"So is that your thing? Ink?"

"Nope. I think it's cool but needles not so much."

"So what is your thing?"

"I don't know … Netflix, Kindle One-Click …"

He laughs because he thinks I'm joking. "What else?"

"Wearing flip-flops year round. Beaches. And travel. I loved to travel."

"Loved?"

"It's been a bit. My mom, sister and I used to take trips over the summers we stayed with her when we were younger. We loved anywhere tropical, but my favorite was when we did Europe."

"Where in Europe?"

"London, Barcelona, Paris, and Rome."

"Never made it to Amsterdam?"

I shake my head. "I didn't. I think I was maybe 15 when we went to Europe. Amsterdam would've been too much for me to handle."

"Probably."

"You've been?"

"A few times."

"Business or pleasure?"

"For business."

"That's a shame. I'll bet Amsterdam is a blast."

"I didn't say I didn't have fun."

He takes a drink and my eyes get big. "Red light district fun?" Something sounding like both laughter and a cough come out of his mouth and beer spurts back into his cup. "Oh God! Are you all right?"

His mouth is covered, but he's nodding frantically between coughs. "I'm fine," he chokes out, rubbing his chest, "I'm okay."

"Jesus! I'm sorry. It was the first thing that popped in my head when I think of Amsterdam and fun."

"Peep shows and prostitutes?"

"Well not specifically, I was thinking more along the lines of almost 'anything goes' aspect of it all. It's like Disneyland for dudes."

"That's debatable, but when I said fun, I was talking about visiting different coffeeshops, taking hits from two-story bongs and such."

"I thought you were a joint kinda guy."

"I am, but … when in Rome, you know?"

"So, what I'm hearing is you were too high to make it over to the Red Light District."

"I suppose it's plausible. I was pretty high. But I doubt it. Last time Carlisle and I were there, we were putting together the business model for THC."

"Carlisle was there?"

"Yep."

"Weird."

He laughs. "You think?"

"Carlisle doesn't strike me as the type to take hits from a two-story bong."

"Do I?"

"Not really, but that's solely based on your admission that you prefer joints."

"I'm curious though."

"About?"

"The type of person you think would take a hit from a two-story bong."

"I don't know. I think stoners have evolved. Most of the ones I know have degrees, jobs, 401(k) plans, and renter's insurance. Any one of them would take the hit, but if I'm honest, the first person who comes to mind is this guy I was friends with in college named Paul."

"What was he like?"

"Crazy smart, super chill, a bit of a gamer."

"And …"

"He was a straight up stoner. Existed solely on a diet of Mountain Dew and gas station pizza. Smelled like Funyuns and armpits most of the time and had a certain fondness for making bongs out of everyday items. Cool dude, though. He gave me some fun story ideas."

"Sounds like me in college minus the bongs and instead of Funyuns, I smelled like Fritos."

"Oh God."

"I'm just kidding."

"Good."

"I was a creeper with a beeper."

"Stop."

"Drove a beater car with tinted windows. Cypress Hill CD in my Discman plugged into the radio."

"What's a Discman?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"I am, but now I'm curious."

"About?"

"What you did after college those years before your profession became relatively accepted and more importantly, legal."

"This and that."

"This and that meaning you worked at Sonic or this and that meaning you still supplied Jake."

"Off the record?"

"Of course, this is strictly a conversation between friends." His brow lifts slightly and for a second I wonder if it's due to my choice of words. "Or colleagues … Business associates or whatever."

His lip curves up into a half-smile. "I like friends."

It's near impossible to keep my blush at bay. "Well now that that's settled …"

"I took jobs at greenhouses and nurseries to keep up appearances as a tax-paying citizen while still supplying Jake. Once my brother got involved, I did the day trading thing so I'd have more time to cultivate the strain."

"Carlisle's idea?"

"Of course."

"I think it's so cool how you two can work together. I can't even go to Costco with my sister without wanting to hit her in the back of the head with a bulk bag of whole wheat flour." His eyebrows rise slightly so I try to amend my previous statement. "I mean, I love her and we're best friends, but we'd never be able to do the work thing together without wanting to—"

"Physically assault each other?"

"Essentially."

"Carlisle and I've had a few knockdown, drag out fights. We try to give each other a pretty wide berth."

"Really?"

Chuckling, he glances down at his beer. "I could tell you stories."

When he doesn't elaborate, I shake my head. "Such a tease." His eyes flash to mine. "You can't just throw that out there like that."

"A tease?" His words come out slow and low. "I'd never tease you." Liar. "We're going to need more beer for this, though."

Two more beers, several laughs and a few shared stories of epic sibling beat downs later, the keg goes dry and the tent is being disassembled. Some of the team members huddle around Emmett's truck, patting each other on the back and saying their goodbyes. Edward and I linger when they leave, trying our best not to look at Em and Rose sucking each other's faces off against his truck's cab door. Unfortunately the lip smacking and breathy moans are a little hard to ignore.

"They're pretty into each other, huh?"

"Pssh. That's nothing; you should share a wall with them."

"I'll take your word for it," he jokes, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. "So I was wondering." He steps closer, lowering his voice, "Are you free this Wednesday?"

"I am."

"Do you want to go to dinner with me?" His words stumble out quickly and it's too cute how he almost seems nervous to ask me out. "It's this thing for work, an investor dinner or whatever, and I thought maybe you'd want to attend. I mean, go with me if you wanted to …" He blows out a breath. "Learn more about the business or something."

"Sure." The word comes out sounding like a bit of a question. Did I just get asked on a date or to attend a business function?

"Really?" He seems genuinely surprised which makes me think date. "It might be boring with all the financials and shop talk." Business function. "But it'll be more fun with you there." Date.

"Sounds great."

"Cool. It's a date." Woohoo! It is a date! "I'll email you this week." For a business function.

"I look forward to it."

He smiles. "Me too."

A/N: Just a quick heads-up, I'm going to be out of town next week so the next chapter will post that following Thursday. Sorry to make you wait, pals. *winces*

But while we're talking about waiting, Carrie ZM and I have been thinking about fics that are worth the wait. The ones that haven't been updated in ages, but you will never give up hope that one day you'll get a surprise in your inbox. *Carrie ZM gets all starry-eyed* At last count, we named off at least 30 fics off the top of our head that we'd give pretty much anything to see an update on, but here are just a few that are worth la douleur exquise - the exquisite pain of waiting and hoping for more.

There Fell A Stillness by HappyInLove
Bound for Glory by wtvoc (collab with Jandco) *Lay bites knuckle thinking of that last chapter*
Prey for the Wicked by Aleeab4u
Cullen Enterprise by Amethyst Jackson
He's Lost Control by Fliegendamsel *Carrie ZM shivers*
My Viking by SheViking
Insatiable Desires by ItzMegan73 *a single longing ghost tear slips down Lay's cheek*

Tell us, pals - which old school fic would you lose your mind over if it updated?

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, fav'd, rec'd tweeted or lurked this fic! I'll see you in TWO weeks!