She laughed loudly that time. A full and hearty sound.
“I am not gonna be running in this frigid cold. I know I’m not high maintenance, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Marathon?” She scoffed. “I was in track in high school, and, yes, I did run in college, but that was before. I haven’t run in forever. Let alone worked out.”
“You could’ve fooled me.” My voice took on a flirty, playful, deep tone, and she threw a fry in my direction.
“Eat your food,” she ordered like a bossy pants. “And don’t be ridiculous.”
“No, I’m absolutely serious. I got the gym booked for today—an hour and a half from now. Figure we’ll give your stomach a rest, wait a little, then head on down. We’re gonna build up your stamina again.” Shit, saying stamina had me thinking of other things. I told myself to get my brain out of the gutter.
Her mouth slipped ajar. “Why are you gonna make me run? And what are you gonna do, just watch me?”
I grinned. “I have nothing else to do. Plus, this list was my bright idea, so I might as well help you while I’m recovering. Or I could die of boredom.” I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes, hoping if she didn’t concede willingly, maybe guilt would help.
She cringed. “I don’t even have anything to wear. I’m in dress pants.”
One side of my mouth quirked up. “I have some sweats for you.”
“I’m not wearing your sweats.” She side-eyed me. “And I am not wearing your ex-girlfriend’s sweats that she accidentally left here either.”
“You’re cute.” I leaned into her, resting my good elbow on the counter. “I ordered some things for you—athletic gear.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to.”Because I have a dire need to help you tick off your list. Truth be told, I hadn’t been doing anything other than online shopping and watching movies.
She made a face. “The only place I’ve been running to lately is George’s Gyros.” She lifted up the gyro for emphasis and took another bite. “See? I’m not a runner unless there’s food. Plus, how do you even know my size?”
I gave her a once-over that had her shifting in her spot. “You’re tiny and cute. I know it’ll fit.” I tipped my chin toward her food, which was almost done, and reached for mine. “Eat up. ’Cause you’re going to work for that gyro in an hour.”
“No …” Her whine was adorably cute.
“Sydney, did you put those items on your list, knowing you wouldn’t really go for them?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Of course not.”
“Well, today, we start running. Even half a mile or a mile. Then, tomorrow, we move up a little more, and then the next day, some more. We should sign you up for a marathon, so we have a date. Even if it is months from now.”
I could almost hear all the excuses that she was making in her head. Too many to count. So, I stopped her before she had another chance to tell me no again.
“It was my idea—your list. This is fun for me in this mundane recovery period of mine. Let me do this, Sydney.”
“Why?”
“You keep asking me the same questions. Because I want to. I need to see you happy.”Because I like you.
A short beat of silence stretched between us, and this electricity—this magnetism—drew me closer to her.
When I leaned in and tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear, she tipped her chin in agreement. “Fine. But after the fries. And I’m not doing a straight run. I’m not in shape. It’ll have to be a brisk walk.”
“Sure. No problem.” I tried to dim my smile. Not like I would’ve taken no for an answer anyway, but I was happy that I hadn’t had to fight her on it.
“It’s going to take a while to build up my endurance. Tomorrow, I can start running.”
Tomorrow? She will be here tomorrow. This is good. Very good.
SYDNEY
Almost two weeks into Austin’s marathon training, and my body wasn’t adjusting. While his splint was off and his body was healing, mine was achy and still trying to acclimate to my new running norm.