Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“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. I was an 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’s number 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 running from–” 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?”
I glared at her. “It looks like it’ll probably be a little sore but you’ll live. But I think this should be your sign to retire from sprinting.”
“I wasn’t sprinting. I was jogging.”
“Yeah, no more sprints for you today,” I said. “I’ll call you a cab.”
“I don’t like cabs. I watched a documentary once about this cab driver who drove people to his creepy chop shop by night and sold their meat by day to unsuspecting people on the street from his hotdog stand.”
I stared. “Good thing it’s not night, then. We’ll just skip my usual post run hotdog.”
She folded her arms, which had the distracting effect of pushing her breasts up. “Ha. Very funny, Dominic. But I’m not riding in a cab. They’re creepy.”
“What do you suggest?” I asked. “You want me to call an ambulance? Or do you not ride in those, either?”
I’m not taking an ambulance for a rolled ankle. She got up, wincing as she put weight on her foot. “See? I’m fine.”
Instinctively, I reached out and put an arm around her, holding her up and helping keep her off the foot. “Alright, how far is your place from here?”
“Far,” she said. “Trying to pin you down for these jog attacks is actually pretty damn inconvenient. I had to take a bus. I hate busses.”
“Then I can take you to my place and get you some ice for your ankle. Once you’re good to walk on your own, you can head home, or I can drive you, assuming you haven’t developed some kind of phobia of riding with your boss since our ice cream date.”
She grinned, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t mind riding you. With you,” she added quickly, cheeks going bright red.
I pretended not to hear as I took more of her weight against me and started leading her toward the park exit.
“So is this how you operate, Mr. Lockwood?” she asked while we walked. “Is this one of your seduction tactics? Wound your prey and then they have no choice but to go back to your sex cave?”