“Thanks, Mags.”
The run does the job and calms that inner voice that’s been yelling nonstop for me to pick up and leave town. I can run at home, and do every day, but there’s nothing like the burn of being on the mountain. I sprint to the outcropping and then loop back down the path, to find Maggie shooting cute little eyeball daggers at me as I zoom past her back to the trailhead, where I pivot and retrace my steps.
“Freaking show-off,” she mutters when I reach her again at the top of the switchbacks.
I slow to walk with her and drink some water. “You okay?”
“Don’t patronize me.”
The sharp tone pricks, and my eyes dart toward her. “I’m not patronizing. This hill is tough. I’m just checking in.”
She trudges forward, but her shoulders drop. “I’m fine. Go finish your run. Beat your last time.”
She’s not fine, because she won’t look at me. I want to press for more answers, but she won’t talk until she’s good and ready, if at all.
Instead, I take her at her word and give her the space she asks for. With a slap to her ass, I take off. “See you at the top.”
I sprint to the summit, beating my previous time, and instead of doing another loop, I take the side trail to the shelter and water source for a refill before jogging back down to the outcropping. She’s not there yet, so I pull my shirt off and lay it across a flat rock, then stretch out in the sun.
Hell yeah, I beat my last run time, but that still doesn’t mean I’m ready for the type of physical endurance I’ll need if I get into the program. There’s so much I don’t know about what to expect, and I wish I had someone to run my questions by.
No second-guessing. This has been my goal since forever. Goals and dreams I need to keep striving for because the original owner of them can’t. If I get the call, I’m taking whatever placement they offer.
A few minutes later, Maggie emergesfrom the tree-lined trail, breathing hard and red-faced from exertion. I will miss this time and these adventures with her, though.
I pat the granite slab next to me, keeping an eye on her as she closes the distance. Somewhere along the way, she stripped off the T-shirt, and she’s down to her sports bra. It’s not unusual; plenty of women hike in only a sports bra, but Maggie never does, and the sight of that pale, smooth skin is affecting me in ways I don’t want to admit.
I sit up, propping my elbows on my knees to hide what’s happening in my thin hiking shorts, and focus on the fact that I like that she trusts me enough to not make herself miserable by hiding under an extra layer.
She drops her bag and plops down beside me. The haunted, troubled look is gone from her eyes. Guess the trail helped her work out her issues too.
“Here. Coolish water for my lady,” I say in a bad British accent, passing her a fresh bottle of water. She nods her thanks and chugs half the bottle. A bead of sweat runs from her hairline down the column of her throat, then lower. Disappearing behind the fabric of her sports bra.
I force my gaze back to the view of the mountain.
“Good hike?” I croak, then clear my throat and try again.
There’s no response, so I chance a glance over my shoulder to check on her. She’s staring off into the view, lost in thought. I want to know every little thing running through her mind. I’m so focused on her that I don’t even notice I’m leaning into her until our shoulders bump. Her gaze darts to mine, startled. A soft smile tilts her lips as she shifts her focus back to the landscape and leans her head on my shoulder.
“It was a good day,” she says with a sigh.
It’s a peaceful trip home. Not wanting to return to theworries I had on the mountain, I think about how my run went, what I can improve on.
In no time at all, we’re at her house, and she’s jumping out of the cab and snatching up her pack.
“Thanks for a fun day. Text me the details about next week.”
Despite all the reasons I shouldn’t, I can’t help but stare at her ass as she walks away.
Chapter Four
Maggie
“Holy. Shit.” Jackson’s curse is accompanied by a full-length scan of the gorgeous green gown I splurged on. Pleasure skitters across my skin at his reaction.
“I could say the same about you.”
Standing in my doorway, highlighted by the late-afternoon sun, he’s quite possibly the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. His hair is trimmed, and he’s wearing a black suit that looks custom-tailored, according to the way it perfectly fits those broad shoulders and trim waist. I’ve seen him shirtless enough times that it shouldn’t faze me anymore. Have studied the way his tattoos highlight the body he works hard to maintain, rather than disguise it.
