Indoor Rock Climbing
"You probably shouldn't—"
"If you say it," Donna warns her husband, "I'm divorcing you."
Look down.
Harvey finishes the thought in his head at the exact moment her gaze drops, and he smirks, watching her face and knuckles turn white as she tightens her death-like grip on the indoor rock wall.
He's holding comfortably a few feet above her, resting on a wide ledge at the top of the structure. Both his sneakers are spread, his harness secure, and he's leisurely waiting for her to join him or admit that his boxing strength is superior to her yoga endurance. Either way, he won the terms of their bet; to make it up the wall using only the red holds, and he can't hide the gloat in his voice as he feigns helping. "The yellow one is closest."
"You're an ass," she quips, ignoring his goading. They both know if she switches over to the easier track she'll lose, and rather than listen, she takes a deep breath, trying to control her vertigo.
After a moment, she tentatively stretches up, but snaps her hand back, and Harvey grins at her stubbornness. This is probably the first time he's seen Donna attempt an activity she hasn't mastered on the first try, and even though his ego is enjoying being better at something for once, she's a lot closer than she thinks. All she needs is a little encouragement instead of teasing, and he smiles to himself. He could have won the bet. If he wasn't completely and totally head over heels in love with his wife.
"Red on the right," he calls down, able to see from his vantage point that she can reach the hold.
She swallows thickly, pinching her lips into a thin line. The rock he's suggesting seems about an inch too far away, and she swings her ponytail, checking the other one on the right. It's closer but smaller, and she glances up at him with a sceptical look, wondering if he's genuinely trying to help or the advice is a tactic to make her lose.
He reads her hesitation and rolls his eyes. "When have I ever—"
"O'Malley's. March 2007. Tequila shots."
He grins, chuckling at the night she's referring to—when he challenged her to a drinking competition and cheated to win. The bartender was pouring her doubles and slipping him singles, giving him a steady advantage, but he did eventually come clean and forfeit their wager. "I'm hurt you don't think I've matured since then," he defends himself, watching her ponytail bob from side to side as she shakes her head with an indignant snort.
"We're only here because you wanted to see me in a crop top doing something besides yoga," she reminds him, not sorry about weighing up her next move. "Excuse me for doubting your maturity."
The reason the bet came about fuels his amusement, and he's definitely not complaining about the view or denying the benefit of yoga. His wife looks sexy as hell when she's working out. But she was the one to veto his first suggestion of going for a run, so technically, her current predicament isn't all his fault. "Don't worry," he assures her. "You'll still look hot if you lose."
"I'm going to hurt you."
"Not any time in the next century," he mumbles, regretting the tease when she shoots him another glare, and he nods across with an easy smile. "Red on the right. Trust me."
She takes in his smug expression, glances between the two holds again, and sucks in a deep breath, lunging her fingers around the one on the right. She grips it firmly, managing to pull her exhausted arms up and gain a new foothold. Then with three more stretches, she's able to climb onto the ledge where Harvey's waiting, his warm gaze brimming with confidence.
"See? Piece of cake."
She smiles back, her heart fluttering with adrenaline and not just from making it to the top. They can both be competitive, but she knew he wouldn't let her fall, because no matter how much he likes to win, he always puts her first.
Which leads her to decide they're both entitled to the spoils of their bet. "You do realize this means you have to join me doing a yoga class?"
He frowns, confused. They agreed if they each completed the task, neither one of them would have to pay up, and he waves his hand, pointing out the obvious."I didn't lose."
"No, we both won." She grins at him, motioning at her spotter below, signaling she's ready to come down while she waits for Harvey to catch up.
"Wait…" he queries, raising an eyebrow. "Does that mean I—"
She catches his mouth with a chaste kiss, confirming he's going to get what he asked for too, and she swings herself back with a coy smirk. "We're going to need whipped cream."
He nearly comes off the wall, wearing a Cheshire cat grin as he chases his wife's descent. If all he has to do is go to one lousy yoga class to claim his reward, then game on.
He just hopes she wasn't serious about making him wear a crop top.