Page 17 of Where We Belong
He also looks really, really good.
I’m not sure how I didn’t notice it before, but now, standing in the early morning light, traces of lavender still coloring the sky behind him, I cannot deny it. The guy might have his faults, but he’s a stunner.
And the smirk he sends me tells me he knows it all too well.
“Last time’s embarrassment clearly proved I have some work to do if I want to get back in shape,” he says as he stretches an arm behind his back. “And I was hoping I could get a tip or two from you.”
I fight another smile. After the little plank contest, I thought he’d go lick his wounds in private and never speak of it again. That’s what most men would do after losing to a woman—one he felt confident he could beat, no less. But here he is, grinning and admitting his defeat without a hint of shame or anger.
Some male athletes could learn a thing or two from this guy.
“Getbackin shape?” I bend down to tie my shoes, full of caked mud from my years of outside runs, rain or shine.
“I used to play hockey. Never got to the big leagues, but I wasn’t bad.” He shrugs.
“Huh.” It makes sense, with his build. I’m standing three stairs above and am still barely taller than him.
Finn looks at me expectantly, as if he actually wants to do this. And honestly, I don’t understand it. Don’t understandhim. With the way we met—and re-met—I would’ve thought he’d be a complete dick, but from what I’ve seen of him since arriving at Sonder Hill, he seems more of a happy-go-lucky type of guy.
I look toward the forest, then decide to make him work for it a little. I hate to admit it, but he’s fun to mess with. “Are you going to complain the whole time?”
“I won’t.”
“What if you’re too slow?”
“I won’t be.”
I raise both brows and blink, which makes him release a deep laugh, the chilly morning air clouding in front of his mouth. “Fine. I don’tthinkI will be too slow, but if I am, feel free to abandon me to fend for myself.”
I stare for a second, but before I can say anything, he kneels and says, “Please let me come with you, oh great master.”
Laughter bubbles out of me before I even realize it.
“Oh my god, please stop,” I say as I pull on his shirt so he gets back up. “All right. Let’s go.”
His only answer is a grin.
We stretch in silence for a minute, the smell of pine and wet leaves thick in the air, and when I start running, he falls into pace beside me.
I like to run in complete silence. The gym is always bursting with all sorts of noises, so my runs are the one moment in my day when I can hear myself think. Normally, I don’t even record my times or try to meet a distance goal. I just run to clear my head.
Except someone didn’t get the memo, because a couple minutes in, Finn clears his throat and says in a breathless voice, “So, have you thought more about what I told you?”
“That you’re in perfect shape?”
“Har. Har. I’m talking about your routine.”
It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about, and when I do, I only throw him a quick glance and return my attention to the gravel path ahead. “I told you, I’m good.”
He fakes a cough, into which he says, “No, you’re not.”
I roll my eyes. “Why do you even care?”
“Cause I think your success could help the gym, and working together could be mutually beneficial.”
Ignoring the second part because, yeah, not happening, I say, “I thought your job was to manage this farm.” Every time I’m not at the gym during the day, I see his truck is parked at the main house. Even though I’m not sure what his job entails exactly, this place is ethereal—whether during my early morning runs, when mist rises from the small pond against the marigold light, or in the evening, when the gigantic trees are bathed in the end-of-day sun rays catching their last breaths—so he must be doing it well.
He sniffles, his breaths more ragged. “It is. I just like to help out as much as I can. The gym is literally my mother’s baby.”
