Page 20 of Love Game

Someone claimed the machine beside her, but she was too absorbed in trying to lip-read what Greg Chambers and his cadre of NSN talking heads were gabbing about to pay much attention to her neighbor. The closed captioning had been turned off in favor of being able to see the ticker scroll at the bottom of the screen. Whatever the argument, the mood looked to be intense. She toyed with the idea of plugging directly into the machine to get the audio, but it was baseball season. In her opinion, the only things duller than baseball were watching grass grow or paint dry. Instead, she zoned out on Chambers’s perfectly tousled hair, amped up the speed, and let the Black Eyed Peas tell her what a good night they were destined to have.

It wasn’t until the song’s driving beat faded into silence that she noticed the heavy footfalls and slightly uneven gait of the runner beside her. She pressed the pause button on her music and listened intently. Weights still clinked and clanked in the background, but the whir of machines had decreased dramatically. The runner beside her huffed, then added a few degrees of incline to his workout. With no more than a glimpse of his hand out of the corner of her eye, she knew who her new neighbor was.

Suddenly, the silence surrounding them grew more oppressive. She didn’t need to look to know they had an audience. A glance in McMillan’s direction confirmed her suspicions. A flood of unchecked fury rushed through her.

“I just wanted a goddamn run,” she muttered as she upped the ante and lengthened her stride. She’d gone three steps when she realized, too late, that he wasn’t wearing earbuds.

“Same goes,” he grumbled.

“I was here first,” she said through gritted teeth. “In every possible way.”

He shot her a scowl, then increased his speed to match hers. “I’ll go, but not before I’m done.” Blowing hard, he swiped an arm across his brow. “I try to get at least three miles a day. Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your way before they go to Sports Roundup.”

Kate glanced at the clock. The daily sports recap started at the bottom of the hour. If what he said held true, that meant old Danny could still run an eight-minute mile. Well, so could she, damn it. Increasing her speed again, she ignored the screeching pain in her bad knee and stretched her stride even farther.

“Seriously?”

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge his incredulous tone or the edge of accusation undercutting the simple question. “Seriously,” she replied.

By the time they started mile number two, every machine in the cardio section was full once again, but no one else was in motion. Their audience talked in a low rumble made indecipherable by the pounding of their feet. At the 2.5 mark, they were in perfect unison. She heard the telltale whir-snick of a phone camera but couldn’t be bothered to care what those kids posted. At least, not at that moment. She was winning. She would win. And just to make certain, she bumped up her pace a smidge more.

As she closed in on three miles, she glanced over at him. “Go for 10K, Coach? Might give you a shot at catching up.”

He snorted and mopped his face with his towel. “I think I just lapped you.”

“You wish,” Kate answered, pitching her voice low so only he could hear.

She heard the sickening screech of his sole scraping the belt, then felt a heavy thunk as the handrails bore the brunt of his weight. She turned in time to see him press into his arms and lift his feet from the belt. His shoes touched the side rails at 2.93 miles. A collective groan went up from the crowd when the pedometer on her machine clicked to 3.00.

Gripping the handrail, she hopped lightly off the speeding belt. The machine beeped as she downshifted the speed to her normal pace and jumped back on. “So that’s a no on the ten?” she asked, flashing him a winning smile.

Danny punched the stop button, and his belt slowed to a grinding halt. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

Kate nodded but didn’t break stride. “I understand. But keep training. You’ll get there.” She flashed him a smile so sweet it tasted like a maraschino cherry.

Danny leapt from the treadmill without deigning to answer. A little pang of guilt twisted her gut. It turned into full-blown regret when she glanced back to see a couple of his players giving their coach a consoling pat as he passed.

She pulled the plug on her own cooldown and snatched her towel from the rail. Without acknowledging a single “Way to run, Coach,” she draped the towel around her neck and set her sights on Danny McMillan’s sweat-soaked back.

She didn’t turn as she called over her shoulder, “I find out any of you posted a picture of my backside anywhere, and I’m coming after you.” The warning was met with a couple of nervous chuckles. So nervous that she felt compelled to shout a reminder to her audience as she hurried to catch up to McMillan. “Remember, you can run, but I can run faster.”

She drew up short when the man himself whirled, his blue eyes ablaze. “I get it. You won,” he bellowed, flinging his arms out wide. “I stumbled, as usual, and you are the champion.” He all but sang the words as his lips curled into a sneer. “Congratulations, Coach. We’ll have that treadmill plated in gold and put it in one of those display cases.”

“Hey,” she said, breathless from the exertion of the run and the vehemence in his tone. “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what, exactly?”

The bite in his tone was enough to take a chunk out of someone with less pride. Unfortunately, she’d just proven she had more than enough for both of them. Swallowing just a little of it, she looked him dead in the eye. “I shouldn’t have let that happen. Especially not in front of your—”

The whir-snick of a camera shutter stopped her cold. She spun to find the lineman who’d asked to bench-press her grinning at them over the top of his phone. “How about you? You up for running a 10K today?” she snapped.

Proving he had a few brains to go with his brawn, the player ducked behind the nearest stand of free weights, mumbling something about the nutty PR lady.

“You don’t get to talk to my players like that,” McMillan growled.

“I either threaten him with a run or shove that phone up his ass. I chose the one that won’t get me fired.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to stop him. Her knee burned like fire, and the last thing she wanted was to go another ten rounds with him. They’d given Millie and her minions plenty of fodder for one day.

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