other hand on his hip. The girls are jumping over weights behind him. He made them a makeshift obstacle course. “So, what made you pick up running?”
I gasp-talk to Aleah when I’m running. I have no intention of doing it in front of Simon. I punch the speed down until I’m walking. The distance is a mile shorter than intended, but at least I ran.
“I thought a half-marathon would be good for me and when I mentioned it to Aleah, she was so confident that it was possible.”
His brows lift. “A half, huh?”
I nod. “I didn’t think of it in time to do the Fargo Marathon, but there’s a women’s half in August. She thinks I’ll be able to get my training in.”
“Of course you can.” He says it simply, like he’s more assured than Aleah, or Rachel, who had invited me over to watch the Fargo marathon last month. The path went by her house and her kids love to cheer on the racers. Watching sparked my ambition and Rachel told me to go for it. So did Aleah. Now Simon. Apparently, I’m the only one who lacks faith.
He’s standing close and I’m hot and sweaty. There’ve been many times we were like this and I didn’t care and we both ended up in the shower together. I have to get away from him. “You want to take a turn?”
“Sure, if you’re done.”
We switch places and I hang out with the kids, running through the course Simon made for them. The girls change the rules each time.
It’s not long before I regret getting off the treadmill. Not because I’m not having fun, but because I shouldn’t be too insecure to run with my ex in the room. I should’ve owned it and finished what I planned to do.
I have a chance to when Simon hops off the treadmill. Sweat wicks down his shirt, but it doesn’t stop him from rearranging the obstacle course, adding more weights for the girls to jump over. I stand with the girls, fascinated by how he’s expanding it and increasing the difficulty.
He hands his phone to Abby. “I need you to time. I’m racing your mom.”
My eyes go wide. “You’re what?”
Jumping from foot to foot, he rolls his neck. “You and me. A race.”
“I-I don’t…” I was about to say race, but isn’t that what I’m down here training for? I don’t plan to race other runners, just myself. This is different. It’s a downstairs, homemade obstacle course. I didn’t finish my mileage. I can make up for chickening out by jumping over a few weight stacks. “Be ready to call American Ninja Warrior by the time I’m done.”
Without waiting for Abby to start the clock, I take off. Simon’s laugh bellows out of him and bounces off the walls. He claps and cheers and the girls join in as I round one of the curves in the winding course.
Before I’m done, he starts, whipping through each small challenge much faster than I was able to, closing in on me.
A squeal rips out of me and I add more speed, thrilling adrenaline racing through my veins. At the next jump, the toe of my shoe catches the top weight. It slides and I lose my balance. My arms cartwheel and I hop on one foot when strong arms close around me and I’m pressed against a hard chest.
The gasping laugh that leaves me is from a different woman, a carefree one having the time of her life. Simon joins as he rights me, his chuckle vibrating next to my ear.
Taking his time, he releases me. Sweaty or not, I could’ve handled being in his arms a lot longer.
The girls cheer and rush us, cutting off any awkwardness after Simon’s save. I give high fives to each of them, but when I lift my gaze to meet Simon’s, my heart clambers into my throat and my body flushes with heat that has nothing to do with my recent exertion.
His eyes are hooded, his look knowing. If this was three years ago and the girls were in bed or at my parents, I know what’d happen next.
I avert my gaze and take the phone from Abby. I was bold enough to race Simon, but I’m back to being a chicken. Keeping my emotional distance from Simon is a lot easier when we’re not touching—and when he doesn’t have a chance to look at me like he wants to lick me clean.
“Who’s racing Dad next?”
Simon
The weekend is