Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(20)

Didn’t bother disputing it. Better to have her safe and deal with a raging hard-on.

My gaze fell to her full lips; the lower one was red. I remembered her biting it while she’d hung from that tree limb. Frustration suddenly fired into me—that I’d let her endanger herself in the first place.

I blew out a heavy sigh, trying to expel the growing anger at myself.

Her smile faltered.

Then she pushed off me and rolled onto the dirt, arms flinging wide. The back of one hand thumped onto my chest.

She stared up at the sky, smile widening once again. “WhooHooo!” She shouted louder than before.

I shook my head, chuckling. Humor worked. Better than the wrong near-deadly turn we’d almost taken. And the sexual path we’d stumbled toward…

With a grunt, I ignored a flash of pain that fired through my head from smacking it on the ground and shoved upright. Then I offered her a hand up.

She took it and we dusted ourselves off. Then we methodically bent our arms and legs checking for injuries.

I ran my hands over my arms and legs, then glanced at her. “Any holes?”

Her brow wrinkled, then the corners of her mouth twitched. “I wasn’t shot; we fell.” She patted herself down anyway then gave me a nod. “I’m good.”

With a slow exhale, she plopped her hands onto her hips. Then she narrowed her eyes at the trail from the direction we’d come from before glancing toward where it continued. “Which way, Coach?”

I nodded back down the trail. “A one-and-a-half mile walk downhill back to the car. Another three if we continue on.”

She arched her brows. “Running?”

“Running.”

“Better keep up, then. No way in hell am I letting a little stumble get the better of me.”

Without warning, she charged off around the next curve.

I raced after her, scared as f*ck that her kamikaze attitude would throw her into another dangerous situation. There were plenty of other drop-offs and blind curves.

Around the following bend, I caught up, then jogged beside her. “As often as you can, scan ahead to anticipate anyone barreling toward you. Remember those adrenaline-junky mountain bikers take downhills at idiotic speeds.”

She pressed our pace faster. As if testing me. Or our ability to speak while running. “And your suggestion? If I find myself squaring off with a reckless biker?”

“Jump toward the mountain. Even if you have to throw yourself on it. Forces any oncoming to take the outside. Makes ’em slow the f*ck down.”

“Got it. Throw myself on the mountain.” Her breaths came in shorter huffs between her words, yet she kept the challenging pace. “Any other tips?”

“Yeah. Watch for deceiving angles in curves. Logic tells you the grade would slope into a curve. Yet sometimes it does the opposite: slants toward the outside edge. Loose dirt and rocks are like ball bearings. Your foot slides if you lean too much toward the inside on an outward angle like that. The trail does what it wants and is merciless if you aren’t on board with it.”

Now I’d grown out of breath. So had she. And she hadn’t been talking. Still we pressed on, pace gradually easing as the incline leveled off then angled into a gentle downhill.

As soon as a level straightaway appeared, she sprinted ahead. When she’d gained a dozen yards, she glanced over her shoulder. “Race ya!”

I tore off, picking up speed. Not trying to beat her, but hell-bent on keeping up.

The girl who’d wanted to “get in shape” had all kinds of surprises up her sleeve, including a natural running ability. And boundless energy. And no fear of mountains—or their drop-offs.

In my world of hustling from one thing to the next, barely holding it all together, Kiki Michaelson was a breath of fresh air.

And I suddenly found myself wanting…more.





Kiki…

“Wait. Darren, there’s a race for this?”

Slowing to a jog, I plucked the sheet from the trailhead’s memo board, then paced in a wide circle. My breaths came in short bursts from sprinting the straightaway that had stretched from the end of the trail to the gravel parking lot.

“Sure. Diehards, mostly.”

“This.” I slapped the paper against his chest. “This is the race I want to run.”

“You almost bit it at the top. Now you want to jump into it with a hundred other crazies?”

“Did you just call me crazy?”

“Yes.” He raised his hand and palmed the top of my head, rubbing his fingers over my scalp. “Sure you didn’t hit your head?”

I shoved his arm away. “Positive.”

I had no idea why I suddenly wanted to run a trail race, but I did.

Endorphins from running? Yeah. I had that going on. But all the nature, the trees, maybe all the oxygen from them, had me on a high. Something energized me from the trail—different than the track.

He plucked the race flier from my hand, then studied it. “Shortens the time window. Only five weeks away. Sure you’ll be up for it?”

“I will if you train me.” There, I’d said it—admitted that I wanted him to be a part of it.

I wasn’t sure what had happened on that mountain. Although we hadn’t consciously crossed any line regarding our agreement, something had happened. The constant attraction between us remained, but more had ignited in those tense seconds where life and death had collided. A bond had formed.