“What the hell are you doing?” I asked.
“Going for my morning run. What does it look like?” Darcy had to pant each word out between heavy breaths.
“I mean why are you doing this again? I thought you would give up after that last excuse for a run.”
“Haven’t you realized I don’t give up that easily?”
“Maybe you should learn to.”
Darcy looked like she was about to die. If she’d worked on her conditioning since the last time she ambushed me on a run, it wasn’t evident. She was pumping her arms wildly, head lolling and eyes wild. Sweat was pouring from her hairline and soaking her sports bra. “Fat chance. Bosshole.” She breathed each word with effort, then tried to wink but looked more like she was wincing.
I grinned. “How far have you run?”
“Um,” she gasped. Her face was screwing up now and she started to hobble, losing speed. “How far do you think it is from that bench back there to here?”
She stopped completely, bending over and clutching her knees. “God,” she said. “Why do you run so fast? Do you actually enjoy this?”
All I wanted was to stop and stay with her. I wanted to take her back to my place and give her the orgasm I owed her. I wanted it all badly enough it fucking hurt, but I knew what was coming. I knew I couldn’t afford that, not without risking everything.
I slowed my pace, jogging in place while she sucked in air. “It helps to clear my mind.”
“From what? Work?”
From you.“Something like that,” I said.
“Have you ever heard of meditation? Ice cream?” She put her hands on her hips and leaned back, drawing in more heavy gulps of air and shaking her head. “This is just ridiculous. It’s torture.”
“Why areyouhere, McClain?”
She held up her palms. “A good interviewer gets inside her subject’s head. I thought maybe if I understood what you’re about outside work, I would get a new angle.”
“Have you?” I waited, one eyebrow arched.
“Yes. You’re a glutton for punishment. Sadistic. Or maybe trying to atone for some kind of past, present, or future sins. Maybe all three.”
“Hm. Interesting theory. Guess you’ll need to keep training if you want to catch up and get answers.” I waited until my back was turned to grin. I jogged away from her, feeling like an asshole. Iwasan asshole. But what did she expect? The entire reason I’d come out for this jog in the first place was to get Darcy off my mind. And of course,The Squawker’snumber one employee was working overtime to nail her interview with me. Worse, it was endearing how hard she was trying. I didn’t need to feel like anything about Darcy was endearing, adorable, sexy, or anything but adequate.
My mind was racing as I ran around the path. I took my favorite route and put a few miles behind me. By the time I was coming back up on where I started, I was getting tired and starting to finally turn off my thoughts. But then I saw her again. She was right where I’d left her, sitting on the ground with her hands over her knees. She hopped to her feet when I came around the bend and started jogging in place.
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help grinning at the look of pure determination on her face. I even slowed my pace as much as I could without making it obvious. She sprinted into motion and came up at my side. “Thought you lost me, huh?” she asked.
“You should stop before you pull something, McClain.”
“Nope. Not until you tell me if I was right. Do you run like this because of guilt? Are you runningfrom–” she veered off the path and her toe caught on a large tree root. One moment, she was beside me. The next, She was spinning and failing her arms in a rolling fall.
She fell hard and let out a grunt of pain.
“Fuck,” I hissed, stopping and kneeling to help ease her back off the ground.
Darcy looked at her ankle and winced, rolling it gingerly then sucking in a quick breath. “Ow,” she said.
Somehow, from her three little fifty yard sprints, she was soaked with sweat just like I was. Our skin felt burning hot where it touched. “Let me look,” I said.
“Do you have medical experience?” she asked. Even when she was in pain, Darcy was still a smart ass. “It could be broken. Fractured. Contused?”
“That’s not how you use the word contusion. And I seriously doubt it’s any of those. I think you just rolled it, which I’ve done to my ankle before.” I bent her knee gently and looked at the ankle. It was already swelling a little.
“How does it look, Doctor Grump?”