I shook off the self-doubt and picked up my speed, pumping my arms to pull forward, and moved from a jog to a run. I caught Claire off guard as I pulled away from her—I had a finish line to reach, no matter if I took the job or not.
That gust of adrenaline lasted until the six-mile mark, when I reclaimed my position ahead of many of my competitors. My lungs threatened to quit on me. We’re done with this shit. My legs joined in with a chorus of We’re indoor people, remember? and the rest of me wheezed and creaked.
I could see that the finish line wasn’t far in the distance, and all around me, spectators cheered on the runners. The path was lined with tall trees, still full of wide green leaves with hints of orange signaling the onset of fall. I’m so close. My brain screamed at the rest of my body, but I slowed to a complete stop, staggering to the side to catch my breath. I bent with my hands on my knees, sucking in air. Running the last mile at that speed had been a mistake, but I was ready to go, ready to be there. Not just for Wes, but for me. I saw that finish line, and I wanted it.
Footsteps fell on the path behind me, and I moved farther to the side to let them pass. Pass me. Just pass me. I took in more breaths, gripping my knees. I closed my eyes. Push, Britta. I vowed to set my self-doubt aside until I finished, even if I was the last one to do it.
The footfalls I’d expected to hear fade as the runner passed stayed near me, and a deep, familiar voice pulled my gaze from the ground. “You’ve got a little farther to go.” Wes jogged in place next to me. His hazel eyes were bright, and I fought the urge to leap at him. It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but it felt like forever.
“Thought . . . you were . . . meeting me . . . at the finish line.” I struggled to catch my breath, but part of that was from being close to him again.
“I was.” A sheepish look crossed his face along with his playful, crooked smile, and I melted.
“But . . . you’re here?”
“It looked like you could use a coach.”
“Always,” I said, my smile growing through my heaving breaths.
He reached for my hand, his fingers surrounding my palm, and brought it to his lips, planting a soft kiss on my knuckles. Despite my exhaustion, the pain radiating through most of my body, my breathless lungs, and sweat-soaked . . . everything, a spark traveled from my hand up my arm and to every part of my body.
“Will you . . . go the rest . . . of the way with me?”
He met my eyes and shook his head. “Nah.”
“What? I need you.”
He let go of my hand and rested his palms on both of my biceps. “No, you don’t.” His hands were firm and warm against my sweaty arms. “Not for this.”
My breath evened out, and I stared up at him as runners passed us in the morning heat.
“As the guy in love with you, I’m telling you you’re perfect, and you can do anything you set your mind to.” He rubbed his thumbs in small circles down my arms. “And as a coach, I’m telling you to get your pacing under control, pay attention to your breathing, focus on the finish line, and dig deep.” Wes reached for my running watch and slipped it off my wrist. “When you get there, I plan to ask you to be with me, to trust me to share your heart and your life.” His lips tipped up. “I hope you’ll say yes, and we’ll have lots of shared moments, but this one isn’t ours. It’s yours, and you’re ready for it.”
He dropped my watch in his pocket and brought my hand to his lips again. “You got this?”
I was, but before I took off, I met his eyes. “You know I’ll say yes when you ask, right?”
The finish line loomed, a blue stripe painted on the road under an awning with a FitMi logo plastered on a wide banner. After ten thousand meters, six point two miles, and so many steps before that, I crossed that line. It wasn’t graceful, but I didn’t care, because I’d finished.
Struggling to catch my breath as a whir of emotion rushed from me, I looked around, wide-eyed. I did it. I can’t believe I did it. Drenched and tired, already sore and exhausted, I’d never felt so alive and like I could do anything I set my mind to. Stumbling to the side of the path, I wanted to high-five every inch of my body—the body I’d tried to camouflage for so much of my life—for getting me here. RJ, Kat, and Del yelled my name and waved signs nearby, and tears welled in my eyes. I wanted to tell my high school gym teacher to shove it. I wanted—Wes wrapped his dry, clean-smelling body around me and kissed the side of my head—that.
He spoke close to my ear, still holding me tight. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I have to stretch,” I joked.
“Priorities, woman.” He still held me close as other runners sped past us. He wrapped his long fingers behind my head and pulled me to him.
“I’m all sweaty and gross,” I protested, without protesting at all as our lips moved closer.
“I’ve always liked you sweaty and gross. You can shower when we get home.”
“We?”
“Will you come home with me?” His breath brushed my lips, and the surrounding noise disappeared as I looked from his eyes to his lips before letting my eyelids fall closed. He tasted like mint and possibility, and I sank into the sweet kiss.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” I said as we pulled apart.
Wes drew back, holding my shoulders and bending to look me straight in the eyes. “Thank you for coming to mine.”
I met his gaze, taking in the rich gold-green of his irises as my heart and lungs battled to regain their normal rhythm. Lungs, you’ll get there. Heart, you might be out of luck.
Claire’s voice broke the spell, and I turned to face her. “Thanks for leaving me in the dust, Britta.” She pulled her earbuds from her ears and looked Wes up and down, assessing. Claire’s cheeks were flushed, and she gulped in a breath. “I’m Claire,” she said. “You must be the coach.”
Wes shook his head. “Just the boyfriend, I hope.”
64
TWO HOURS LATER, Britta lay on my couch, wrapped in my thick terry cloth robe after taking a shower. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and I held her feet in my lap, pressing my thumbs into her arches. I looked up to see her smiling, eyes bright, and it reminded me of the first time I’d sat on the couch with her, except everything was different now.
“What?” she asked, after letting me stare at her for a minute.
“I like how you look in my robe,” I said, squeezing her heel to elicit a little moan. Her sexy noises. Damn, I’ll never get tired of them. “And on my couch.”
The bouquet of her favorite flowers was propped in a water glass on my kitchen counter along with her racing bib and medal. When I’d handed them to her, she’d laughed and smiled this wide Britta smile, and she’d kissed me again. Next to that was the letter outlining the formal offer of employment Mason had handed her before we left the race. Now, Britta was at my place, her feet in my hands, and I couldn’t imagine anything that felt more like home.
“Can we talk about the job?” she asked, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. “You know I can’t work for you.”
“Technically, you’d report to Mason.”
“And he reports to you,” Britta chided.
I ran my fingers down over the back of my neck before meeting her eyes again. “Not technically.”
“Not technically?” She arched a brow in that sexy way she had, and I dragged my fingers back to her feet, beginning a slow journey up to her ankle.
“He reports to the CEO, but I don’t really want to talk about Mason while you’re practically naked.” I loved the way she inhaled sharply when my fingers skirted up her calves. “Do you have anything on under this robe?”
“Wes,” she said in a slow, breathy tone that left me at full attention. I let my hands dip under the edge of the robe to stroke the soft skin on the backs of her knees. She let out another little moan, and I felt the heat from between her legs as I shifted to lay next to her, fingers dancing up her thighs. I didn’t expect her to still my hand.