“You ran after me,” he pointed out. “So, I know you can sprint.” A smile crept to his mouth. “This way, you’ll keep fit.”
“Oh. My. God! Do you even know me?” I dug my heels into the sand. “Why do you hate me?”
“Nice try. C’mon. It’ll make you feel better,” he coaxed, running backward now, still keeping my hand trapped—the showoff—while I was already panting like a dying fish.
“I take it all back.” I tugged with the strength of a plankton, because while his grip might be gentle, his fingers locked like a damn steel handcuff around my wrist. I wheezed, “Let me go, you darn sadist.”
He laughed. Despite my winded protest, I wanted to smile, too, and revel in his happiness.
“Tomorrow, I’ll be a lump of aching muscles—” Inspiration struck. “War, I have urgent work to do. The drawings are all due soon. If I go running with you, I’ll be too tired, and I need to concentrate.”
“Tell you what, jog with me to those rocks there.” He nodded to a pile of gray boulders—noooo, not the few littering the shore a few yards from where we were, but to the ones worn down by the sea likea million miles away. “Then we’ll turn back.”
“The only way I’ll get there is if I crawl,” I grumbled. Sighing, I gave in and jogged with him. But a short distance into the run, a stitch started in my side. Ugh. I yanked free and flopped onto the sand, pressing a hand to my side. “I think I’m dying,” I moaned.
This time, he didn’t tease me. He dropped to his knees and applied pressure to my sore side with his fingers. “Breathe in slowly and deeply,” he encouraged. “It’ll ease the cramp.”
I did as he said, inhaling and exhaling like an invalid…
After several deep breaths, the stitch faded.
“Better?”
I nodded, and he lowered his hand.
“Ready to try again?”
Gah. “Since you love those rocks so much, you run to them. I’ll wait here—eeep!”
He pulled me up. “Climb up.” He offered me his back. “So I can finish my run.”
“What? No!” I shook my head, horrified. “I’m not piggyback riding you!”
“Stop arguing and climb on. I can’t leave you alone on the beach. I’m not seeing my trainer this week, so I have to keep to my schedule.”
Ugh, stupid schedule.
But the thought of being here at the house and not running around or going back to the city, perked up my mood a lot. “Fine, I’ll run to those rocks, but I’m gonna be slow.”
“I know.”
“Jeez. The faith.”
Laughing, he started a slow jog and let go of my hand, and I managed to keep up with his trot. The fact he had to slow down immensely, more like a fast-paced walk for him, made me smile. Then my slow-mo brain finally caught up, and I realized the truth.
He just wanted me with him.
It didn’t matter I couldn’t jog like him or that I ended up sweaty and huffing like some beached aquatic creature,I loved spending time with him, too.
Suddenly, he stopped so abruptly that I ran past him. Frowning, I pivoted and found him glancing around the beach, brow furrowed.
“Looking for ways to escape me?” I asked.
He shot me a smirk, then the impossible man dove for me, upending me on his shoulder, and I groaned as the little air I had in my lungs swooshed out. “War—”
“Stop complaining and enjoy the ride.” He turned around and jogged back to the house.
Man, I had so many comebacks for that, but I wheezed out a laugh instead and patted his backside.
