Page 40 of Keep Me Close

“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.”

“You play hockey.”

“Exactly. Everyone knows it’s the superior sport.”

“That is so adorable.”

When I bark out a laugh, she glances over, as if startled by the explosive sound just as much as I am. We continue running along the lake. At some point, the silence between us shifts. It stops feeling like something we’re navigating around, and it settles in, becoming comfortable.

I’m used to attraction and tension. To wanting a woman and moving on before it has the chance to turn into anything real.

But this?

It’s different.

Like falling into step beside her is the most natural thing in the world.

A cyclist comes up fast on our left, not bothering to call out until the last second, and I react without thinking. My hand closes around Cheyenne’s arm and I tug her toward me, guiding her out of the way as the bike whips past with an irritated mutter from the rider.

She stumbles half a step into my side, and my hand lingers on her arm longer than necessary. I’m all too aware of her beneath my grip.

“Are you okay?” I ask, breathing hard.