Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91285 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
It’s impossible not to stare. “You’re up early,” I force myself to say, trying and failing to sound like my normal self.
She twists off the cap and takes a drink before glancing at me. “I’m going for a run.”
“Alone?”
Her brows lift. “That was the plan.”
I set my mug on the counter with a thud. “I’ll come with you.”
A small laugh slips from her. “Knox, you don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She studies me for a second. “You actually want to run?”
My face scrunches. “Fuck no.”
That response startles a smile out of her that’s quick and unguarded. My chest tightens at the sight.
She tips her head. “Then why bother?”
“Because your safety is my number one priority.”
Her gaze flicks over my face. “Are you absolutely sure? You don’t look like you slept well.”
“I slept just fine,” I grumble.
“Okaaay.” She stretches out the word, as if she doesn’t believe me.
Smart woman.
“It really isn’t necessary,” she says. “I won’t be gone long.”
“If I’m not going with you, you’re not going at all.”
One brow arches. “Is that so?”
I plow a hand through my hair and force myself not to snap. “It’s six in the morning and you’re in a city you don’t know. You’ve also got an ex who tracked you to a hotel two thousand miles away. So, yeah, I’m not wild about the idea of you out there on your own.”
Her expression softens, but only slightly. “Knox—”
“He knew where to find you,” I cut in, more quietly now. “That’s not something to fuck around with.”
I can see the exact moment it all comes tumbling back to her. The hotel. The flowers. The note. The way her ex keeps slipping past lines he has no business crossing.
She lowers the bottle from her mouth, and I brace for an argument, because she’s stubborn enough to give me one on principle alone.
Instead, she examines me in silence before her shoulders lower. “Okay. Fine.”
Relief hits hard enough to weaken my knees.
“But only because you look two seconds away from having a coronary,” she adds. “And that’s not something I want on my conscience.”
I huff out a laugh. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”
I dump the rest of the coffee down my throat, knowing I’m going to need every drop of caffeine, before heading to my room to get dressed. By the time I return, Cheyenne is stretching near the elevator.
She’s bent forward with her palms pressed flat against the floor. The hem of her sweatshirt slides up again, exposing that same tempting strip of skin. My gaze locks there for one beat too long before I force it upward.
“Ready?” I ask.
She straightens before meeting my gaze. “Yup.”
The entire ride down to the lobby, I wait for her to bring up the kiss.
She doesn’t. And neither do I.
I’m not even sure what I’d say. It certainly wouldn’t be the truth.
The electricity sizzling between us continues to ramp up with every floor we descend. I’m barely holding on by a thread when the doors open to the lobby. It’s a small blessing when the frigid morning air slaps at my cheeks. The city hits us all at once. There’s traffic whizzing by, a few pedestrians on the street, and the sun rising over the buildings.
Chey glances at me. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She takes off at an easy pace and I fall in line beside her. It only takes half a block to realize she’s not screwing around. Her stride is smooth, efficient, and strong.
When I glance at her, she catches me looking. “Problem, McNichols?”
“Not at all.”
“Interesting, because your expression says otherwise.”
I grunt, not bothering with a response.
A laugh slips out of her. “You didn’t think I was a serious runner, did you?”
“Did I say that?”
She smirks. “You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”
I stare straight ahead. “I was just assessing the situation.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure.”
I side-eye her. “What?”
“Not much of a morning person, are you?”
“And here I was thinking you might be too much of one,” I shoot back.
When she flashes a grin, awareness coils low in my gut.
A few more blocks pass before she glances my way again. “You’re good with five miles, right?”
I scoff. “Of course I am.”
It’s official… I’m going to die.
Five miles?
Who the hell voluntarily runs five miles before sunrise?
Cheyenne Benson, that’s who.
We head toward the lake, our footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the sidewalk. The wind off the water whips at my face, but Cheyenne doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. If anything, she grows more energized with every stride. Her shoulders are looser and her breathing is steady. Once or twice, she tips her face toward the sun like she’s actually enjoying herself.
“Kind of looks like you’re hating life, McNichols,” she says after another block.
“Not true at all.”
She gives me a skeptical look.
I glare back. “You might not have realized it, but I’m an elite athlete.”