Well Matched (Well Met #3)(93)

But Mitch was just behind me, pacing me, keeping me on track to finish the race in a respectable thirty-five minutes. I had a feeling that if I’d let him run the race on his own, he’d be done by now too, and waiting at the finish line with Simon. But he’d told me he’d be there every step of the way, and he meant that literally.

“Still feel okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” My lungs were burning and there was a definite wobble in my legs, but otherwise I was okay. I hazarded a glance over my shoulder at Mitch, and we shared a grin.

“Good,” he said. He nodded in front of us. “?’Cause look at that.”

I faced forward again, looking up to see the finish line banner stretched over the road in front of us, not fifty feet away. Adrenaline took over and I sprinted, pumping my legs and not even caring about breathing till I’d crossed the finish, Mitch laughing a few yards behind me.

“Holy shit.” My sprint turned to a jog until I slowed to a stop. I bent forward at the waist and propped my hands on my knees, sucking in air. “I did it.” I straightened and turned to Mitch. “I did it!”

“You sure as hell did!” He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground, not even caring how sweaty I was. Of course, he was sweaty too, so it didn’t matter. Our sweat mingled a lot lately.

“You did it!” Emily’s squeal came from behind me and I turned to greet her. Simon was beside her, a smile on his face and a bottle of water and a banana in his hands. He passed them both to me.

“Good run, April,” he said.

I snorted. “I don’t want to hear it. You had time to go home and shower while you were waiting for me, right?”

He laughed, which for Simon was an enthusiastic exhale, but it still warmed me to see it. “Not quite. And you should absolutely be proud. How’d you do?” He addressed the question to Mitch, knowing he was the one with the stopwatch.

Mitch looked down at his wrist, a grin blooming across his face. “Thirty-four minutes, forty-seven seconds. Not bad!” He held up a hand and we high-fived. Yes, we were that kind of couple. No, I didn’t care.

I turned to Emily. “How about you?” She and the puppy had done the one-mile dog jog, something that I had almost ditched my own race to see. Because dogs. Mine was safely at home asleep on the couch. Murray was the smartest of us all.

Emily laughed and shook her head. “Lord Byron here was much more interested in sniffing and peeing on things. I don’t think our time was all that impressive.”

While we all walked toward the parking lot, I called Caitlin. “Turkey in the oven?”

“Yep! Everything’s set, Mom.”

“Great. Thanks, hon.” I clicked my phone off while Mitch dug his keys out of his pocket. “See y’all in a little bit?”

Emily nodded as she loaded the all-legs puppy in the back of her Jeep. “We’ll be there about two. You sure you don’t want me to bring anything?”

I shook my head. “It’s all made. Just bring yourselves and the dog. Maybe some wine.” Mitch’s grandmother had emailed me her macaroni and cheese recipe, and I couldn’t wait for everyone to try it.

Speaking of which . . . I turned to Mitch after settling myself in the passenger seat of his truck. “You sure it’s okay we didn’t do Thanksgiving with your family? I know you love your grandparents.”

“I do.” He nodded as he started up his truck.

“And your cousin Lulu is great. I wouldn’t mind seeing her again.”

“That’s good. I think you’ll have a hard time getting rid of her.” He cracked a smile as we got on the road. “But no. Today’s great. A Willow Creek family Thanksgiving. We can save the real chaos for Christmas.”

“Can’t wait,” I said dryly. But what he didn’t know was that I was already thinking ahead to Christmas. His present was already wrapped and in my sock drawer in a little white box: a tiny silver house on a key ring, with a copy of my house key. I was going to ask him to move in. He’d helped make my house even more of a home, so it was only right that he share it with me, and stop renewing his lease every February.

I sighed and took a bite of banana. “This was fun.”

“Good. We’ll make it a tradition.”

“Except . . .” I plucked my shirt away from my body with a grimace. “I’m disgusting. And I’m pretty sure I stink.”

“We’ll take a shower when we get home.” His grin turned wicked as he glanced over at me. “That can be a tradition too.”

I raised my eyebrows. “A lot of your traditions seem to involve showers.”

“Are you complaining, Cupcake?”

My new nickname. Now it was time for my grin to be wicked. “I am not.”

Sure, there was a glimmer of Old April deep down inside, who thought, Oh shit, Caitlin is home, abort sexy shower! But when Mitch took my hand and drove me home, it was easy to extinguish that glimmer. She was eighteen. She could handle it.

Besides, everything I wanted, needed, and loved was either in this truck with me or waiting for me at home. And New April had no problem letting the world know it.





Acknowledgments





The majority of this book was written in the year 2020, which was unprecedented for so many reasons. It was a challenge to write a rom-com—especially a rom-com that had so! many! public gatherings!—in the middle of a pandemic. But in a lot of ways it was an escape. Spending time in Willow Creek with my characters was comforting at a time when I couldn’t hang out with anyone else.