Page 17 of Inviting Trouble
He slowed down a notch, still running at a good pace. “You think you could beat me? My legs are still longer.” He was five foot eleven to her little bitty size. She’d always wanted to race the guys, and she never won. Not her fault, really. She had to put twice as much into it because of her size disadvantage.
“I could beat you and any of the guys,” she returned, doing a cool-down run. “Now you all are old and tired, and I’m still young.” She slowed to a walk and grinned. “Finally pays to be the youngest. Twenty-six last week, and I’m not even at my peak.”
“Happy belated birthday,” he murmured as it hit him that her twenty-six wasn’t much different than his twenty-eight. In his mind, she was always much younger. They were two and a half years apart. Sometimes, growing up, like when he was ten to her seven for half the year, he’d lorded it over her, treating her like a little kid. He’d done that every time he’d hit the bigger number until she hit fifteen and things got weird.
“You didn’t miss my birthday,” she said. “You texted.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“What?”
He slowed his treadmill, a little dazed. “I just can’t believe you’re twenty-six now.”
She stopped her treadmill and wiped her face with a towel, tossing it over her shoulder. “Old enough for a lot of things I wasn’t legal for when you left.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t want her touching drugs. Not that they were legal. He barely tolerated her touching alcohol. His family history made him jumpy as hell at the thought.
She grinned and he had a flash of a gap-toothed little-kid Mad grinning down at him from the top of the stairs just before hitching a leg over the railing and sliding down. He’d spent half his life terrified for her safety.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked.
He wanted to interrogate her and then slap on a lecture, but she walked away, hips swinging with attitude, to the weight machine in the corner of the room. He could see her in his peripheral vision. He focused on his workout, running just a little bit harder every time he caught himself watching her work out—her arms, her abs, her legs, everything was smooth, toned, and strong.
That should reassure him. She was fine. Healthy, strong, resilient.
He ran harder.
Finally he finished up and stepped off the treadmill. He turned to find Mad standing there, waiting for him, her skin glowing with good health. He focused on her brown eyes dancing with mischief just like he remembered.
“You want to grab breakfast after we shower?” she asked.
His mind flashed to Mad in the shower last week, asking for a towel and then standing in nothing but a towel out in the hallway. He shut that memory down quick. He’d been relieved not to see her much around the house after that, as she’d spent nearly all her time at the university, studying and taking final exams.
His voice came out harsh. “With you?”
She looked around the workout room, which only had the guy who worked there, standing behind the counter. “Who else?”
He was feeling really weird, a little out of his head. He must’ve worked out too hard.
She waved a hand in his face. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, give me twenty minutes.”
“What are you, a girl? Ten.” She headed to the women’s locker room to the right.
He barked out a laugh. Still busting his chops. He turned and went to the men’s locker room. See, Mad hadn’t changed all that much, he reassured himself.
When he stepped out into the hallway just outside the workout room, Mad was already there, waiting for him. Her hair was still wet from the shower and slicked back, drawing attention to the delicate features of her face—her soft brown eyes, the curve of her cheek, that mouth with the full lower lip. She smelled like something citrusy, sharp and fresh. She wore a ripped black shirt that exposed her delicate collarbones, cargo shorts, and black work boots. The contrast of feminine and tomboy reminded him so much of the girl he remembered, fifteen-year-old Mad just beginning to show signs of a knockout beauty, a curvy body hiding under baggy boyish clothes. He’d tried not to notice back then. He wished he didn’t notice now.
“Come on,” she said. “The hotel restaurant is just around the corner.”
He followed her, stealing sideway glances at her, trying to reconcile his memory of her with the woman she was today. “You haven’t changed much.”
She pursed her lips. “Gee, thanks.”
“I mean, you were about this size at fifteen.”
She grimaced. “I was this size at twelve. Haven’t grown an inch since.”
