Page 128 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
Chapter
Thirty
NAOMI
The marathon was scheduledfor the first Saturday in November. Christian had been training for months, running before dawn and on weekend mornings when we weren’t at his penthouse or my condo. My cycle competition wasn’t until tomorrow, and even though we weren’t on speaking terms, I couldn’t miss his run.
I arrived at Forest Park at dawn, and the starting area was already buzzing with hundreds of runners stretching, hydrating, and mentally preparing for twenty-six point two miles. The morning air held that perfect crisp for ideal racing conditions, and I wrapped my jacket tighter as I searched the crowd for Christian.
The energy was infectious; runners of all ages and experience levels bounced on their toes, volunteers distributed race packets, and spectators arrived early to claim the best viewing spots along the route.
I found Christian near the registration tent and almost choked on my own intake of breath. He was impossible to miss, even surrounded by other athletes. The black compressionshorts hugged every muscle in his defined legs. His fitted gray tank showcased his broad shoulders and the lean strength of his torso, every line of his body speaking of power and endurance.
And his physique wasn’t the only asset that drew attention. It was the way he carried himself, confident but focused and approachable. He was stretching against a fence post, one leg extended behind him, and I watched the smooth flex of his calf muscles and the way his shorts pulled tight across his thighs.
I wasn’t the only one watching.
A blonde in head-to-toe pink spandex approached him, ostensibly to ask about his running watch but really to get closer to all that masculine perfection on display. She touched his forearm as she laughed at whatever he’d said, her fingers lingering longer than necessary. Her body language was clear; she was interested in more than his accessory.
A brunette in lime green jogged past, deliberately slowing her pace as she passed Christian’s spot. Her appreciative gaze traveled from his running shoes up the length of his legs, lingering on his ass before moving to his chest and face. When she realized he hadn’t noticed her blatant perusal, she made another lap past him, this time timing it so she’d be stretching nearby when he finished his own routine.
Two women in matching team singlets had positioned themselves where they could watch him warm up; their conversation was clearly about him, based on the way they kept glancing over and giggling. One of them was bold enough to take out her phone, probably hoping to get a photo.
He looked like he’d stepped out of a fitness magazine, and every woman within a fifty-yard radius had taken notice.
And for a year, he had chosen me. Until I’d pushed him away.
Christian finished his stretching routine and glanced around, probably looking for water or checking the time. His gaze swept across the crowd and stopped when it landed on me.
Even from thirty feet away, I could see his surprise. His entire posture shifted, straightened, and became more alert. For a moment, the distance he’d been maintaining cracked, and I saw something raw and unguarded flash across his face before his expression changed.
He said something to the blonde and started walking toward me. The swagger in his approach was so naturally him that I had to bite back a moan. Damn, I missed him terribly.
“Naomi. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I wanted to show support.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to miss your race. Even though we’re not speaking, I want you to do well..” And I still love you… but I kept those words lodged in my throat.
“How are you feeling about the race?”
“Ready. I’ve put in the work.”
“You have. I’ve seen your commitment.”
He nodded. “You look good.”
“So do you. I see you have an audience.”
“Everyone does.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do you care?”
I sucked in a breath. “I can’t stop loving you overnight.”
