I maintained a decent pace for the four-mile loop, though I knew I'd be dying we jogged. No longer the cardio queen I was before, I wouldn't stand a chance.
The forest was beautiful; the leaves hinting at their yearly show of orange and yellows now that October was nearing. The trickle of the brook was a peaceful backdrop, a slow and steady constant as we discussed supplier intricacies and CRMs.
Ordinary people didn't talk business on their days off, but we babbled about it with enthusiasm. I hated Croft, but I didn't hate the industry. While I loved the behind-the-scenes business, Jason was all about the front end of sales, obviously. It still shocked the hell out of me, as he didn't have the smarmy salesman side I was familiar with, more in sync with the numbers and the rush.
I felt on top of the world, muscles singing as we carried on, endorphins high as I took in the mountain air. It had been so long since I was out on the trails, choosing to wallow in wine and crackers within the safety of my apartment instead. I promised Dad I wouldn't hike alone, and I kept that promise, but not how he hoped.
We trotted along, passing a few folks, mainly joggers getting in morning miles. Jason earned a few appreciative glances from women, and I didn't blame them. Sure, I felt a twinge of jealousy, but I had no stake in him, so I couldn't be all that mad. We weren't a couple, and he wasn't mine. The thing between us was just that... a thing. It wasn't a relationship.
As we rounded the bend back towards the lot, Jason turned with a smile. “Race you to the car?” he asked. “If I win, I get a kiss. If you win, I have to serenade you with slow jams the whole way back.”
“That sounds more like I lose even if I win!” I taunted, shaking my head with a smile.
“True... but you get to see me make an ass of myself.”
Racing to the car was ridiculous and unlike no-nonsense Jason. Then again, he didn't look like a guy that went around singing slow jams either. Or like someone that participated in kart races and fingered women on Ferris wheels.
“Come on. It'll be fun.” He nudged my shoulder, egging me on. “Unless you're afraid of losing?”
“Like you wouldn't win?” I laughed. “You're fourteen feet tall. Every stride of yours is eight of mine.”
His face scrunched before sliding into one of his patented knee-weakening grins. “I'll run backward,” he offered, satisfied with himself.
“You're hellbent on this race, aren't you?”
“Maybe.”
I glanced over to the lot, at least five-hundred yards out. I'd have a fighting chance at least with him moving backward. “Deal.”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “Go. I'll give you a ten-second head start.”
I eyed him. “Why's that? Don't think I can beat you?”
“Nope.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “Cocky, much?”
“That, and I really want to watch your ass while you run.”
I reluctantly began to sprint, pulling my fleece down over my behind, obstructing his view.
“HEY! I SAW THAT!” he bellowed, but I didn't miss a beat.
I ran like a slasher from a horror flick was after me. I wanted some slow jam crooning, even if it came with sweat and a side stitch.
I made it a good hundred yards before I heard his footsteps, keys jingling in his pocket.
I dug deep, launching myself with each step, trying to maintain my lead. The struggle was real since I hadn't done sprints since college. Speed was never my strength. I ran cross-country, not high-intensity crap.
I was successful for a bit, but as soon as my feet hit the gravel of the lot, he pulled ahead, waving as he easily surpassed me.
By the time I reached the SUV, he was sitting up on the hood with a grin, not as winded as I was. “I win!” he jeered.
“You did.” I planted my hands on my knees, doubling over to catch a breath.
“You okay there, Keebler?”
“Yeah, give the old lady a second to rest.”
“I like your butt.”
I shot him a glare but continued to fight to steady my breathing. “You're ridiculous.”
“It's not my fault you have a nice ass. I'm only appreciating what Mother Nature blessed you with.”
I straightened, rolling my shoulders to loosen up, glad that at least one of us liked it. “I was looking forward to those slow jams.”
“Sorry. I wanted a kiss.”
A flood of butterflies fluttered low in my belly, still jittery at the thought of kissing him. Here we fucked like rabbits, yet a silly kiss left me reeling.
“I can tell.”
He hopped down off the hood, taking my hand in his before spinning me in a delicate twirl like a ballerina. As I whirled back around, I nestled into his chest, hands splaying across the hard warmth.
He leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to my lips before pulling away to open the passenger door. I climbed in with a mental huff, flustered at the simple peck. If I won a kiss as a prize, I'd want some tongue at least. He shut the door before making his way around to the driver's side, sealing me in my pity party.
“I think you let me win,” he accused, starting the SUV.
“I wish!” I shot back. Giggles followed, unable to hold them in at the thought of the brooding man beside me, kicking it to 90s slow jams.
He flashed another devastating smile as I continued to erupt with laughter. “Maybe another day if you're lucky, little lady.”
“Same goes for your kiss,” I taunted, lingering giggles escaping as I wiped my eyes.
“I already got that!” he declared.
“You call that a kiss, Jason Barrett?”
He raised a brow. “Is that an insult or a challenge?”
“Either-or,” I replied, smug as can be.
“Well, damn. I didn't realize you were so particular about your kisses.”
A slow smirk crept
