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Abi

“Runners, take your marks.”

I glanced over at Declan and he grinned, a big wolfish smile that reminded me of the way he’d kissed me last night.

Arrogant, sinful, and seductive as hell.

I didn’t care that I’d proclaimed it a fun part of the act— oh, man, it had definitely been that— it was impossible for me to get it out of my mind.

Because it’d been exactly what his appearance suggested—and more.

Bossy, controlling, decadent, alpha, exquisite—it’d been all those things. But it’d also been fun and hot and so full of sexual promise that it’d kept me up for hours last night, replaying it.

Thinking things like If he kisses like that, he probably does a lot of other things really well.

And then my brain subjected me to an endless montage of those things that I didn’t need to be thinking about.

“Get set.”

Focus, Abi! I looked at him again, and the dark expression on his face as he gazed at me made me assume that either he was having the same thoughts, or he could see that my brain was turned on yet again by remembering the ferocity of his mouth.

Embarrassing.

“Go!”

The man with the megaphone fired off a starter pistol, and the 5K was under way.

I’d slipped into one of the bathrooms just before we lined up to take a puff of my inhaler off-the-radar, so I felt good as we started running.

I knew it was immature and absolutely a sign of my insecurities, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it in front of Declan.

He was this beautiful specimen of a strong human, gorgeous and athletic and a captain of industry, and it felt embarrassing for him to see me sucking on my puffer like the nerd that I was.

But it was autumn and that was who I became this time of year: a puffer-sucking nerd.

The changing of the leaves, the ragweed, the pollen—it was the perfect storm that never failed to wreak havoc on my lungs and trigger the shit out of my asthma.

So was it stupid that I was running three miles outside today, especially when I was out of my daily Pulmicort but insurance wouldn’t cover it until next week because it was too soon?

Probably.

But I was getting paid a lot of money to be Dex’s partner for the weekend.

I couldn’t just skip the event that he’d called one of the most family-centric of the weekend.

If all of Declan’s peers were walking and running with their partners and children, pushing their babies in strollers, it was a fantastic opportunity for us to present a united front.

Certainly I could handle three miles.

I mean, for forty grand, I had to handle three miles.

My inhaler was in my sports bra, so I could hit that baby whenever I needed it after Dex pulled ahead.

You’ll be fine , I told myself, even though it didn’t help the knot in my stomach.

But he would pull ahead because not only was he in ridiculous shape, but his legs were so long that there was no way he wouldn’t leave me in his dust.

And then I could puff to my lungs’ content.

So it was disconcerting that he wasn’t pulling away.

We didn’t talk while we ran, and we both had on headphones, but he was still right there with me after we finished the first mile.

And as expected, I was wheezing and my chest was tight.

I needed to stop.

I needed to stop running.

I knew my body, and this wasn’t going to get better.

I kept running, trying to figure out how to quit. I could fake an injury; perhaps pretend I tweaked my ankle. That would allow me to stop running for a bit and then just catch up to Declan at the end.

It was what I needed to do, but I kept running, nervously trying to figure out how to pull it off.

Should I make a noise?

Start limping?

How does one behave when they injure an ankle?

The whole time I was thinking through this, I was also panicking because my chest was getting tighter.

Sometimes, if I waited too long to use my inhaler, my chest got so tight that my back started hurting, and that ache was settling in.

I needed to do it now .

I did a fake little hop thing, then slowed to a hobble-jog, like I was trying to keep my weight off my right foot while still running.

Dex looked over at me and said, “You okay?”

Dear God, he’s not even sweating. Or winded.

What a psycho.

It was hard to talk when I was breathing heavily from the run and also wheezing, but I managed, “My ankle’s a little wonky. I’ll catch up.”

I moved off the cement path and hopped over to the grass, but much to my horror, he followed me.

“No, you go,” I said, trying not to sound like I couldn’t breathe. “I’m good.”

“Sit,” he said, grabbing my arm and guiding me down to the curb.

“I’m fine,” I said, dropping to a sit while trying to catch my breath. My brain was short-circuiting between the panic that my erratic breathing always caused and the mortification that Declan was trying to figure out my fake injury while listening to me pant like an out-of-shape elephant.

“You’re not fine, let me look,” he said, reaching out to gingerly touch my ankle. I was rolling my eyes at myself as he did that because it was just so ridiculous— I was being so ridiculous. His gentle fingers slid over my skin, searching, and I wanted to disappear.

What is wrong with me? It was so fucking immature that I had these issues with admitting to my asthma, but it still kept happening.

But even knowing that didn’t help.

I’d literally sat inside friends’ houses before while their dog’s dander tightened my chest because I didn’t want to insult them by not hanging out with their dog.

“It looks okay,” he said, his eyes on my foot. “It doesn’t look swollen.”

“That’s good,” I said, and there must have been something in my voice—probably the intense rattling—because his eyes shot to mine immediately.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a wrinkle between his dark eyebrows.

I nodded, trying to gut the panting and tone it down.

But his eyes narrowed.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because it seems like you’re having trouble breathing.”

I smiled and shook my head. “I just have a little asthma and sometimes it flares up when I run. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

“No big deal,” I added.

“Um, that actually seems like a really big deal,” he said, his eyes all over me, like he was trying to see inside my body.

I shook my head and explained, “I just need to take my inhaler and I’ll be fine.”

“Where is it? Do you need me to go get it?” he asked.

“No, I’ve got it,” I said, my cheeks burning as I reached into my sports bra and pulled it out. “Can you just, um, not look at me for a sec?”

He looked at me in disbelief, like I’d just insulted him, when he said, “Jesus. Don’t worry about me, just take the damn medicine.”

His frustrated tone made me feel like a fool for getting myself in this situation. I mean, I was a fool for getting myself in this situation. I turned and faced the other direction as I took two puffs from my inhaler.

Unfortunately, I’d let it get past the point of resolution, so the relief would take some time.

Sometimes when I took my medicine and stopped what I was doing early enough during an attack, I’d feel completely better and be able to move on right away. But I’d pushed it too hard and had been an idiot for too long, so now it was going to be hours before I was breathing right again.

But I was good at faking it.

“I just need to sit here for a few minutes and then I’ll be fine, Declan, but you need to go finish the race.”

“Here,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Standing up might help you take deeper breaths. Put your hands on top of your head like this.”

He set his hands on top of his head and took deep inhalations through his nose. It was ridiculous that he was showing me things I already knew, things I’d forgotten in my panic.

I followed his lead, doing what he said, feeling like a child while also appreciating him. I felt a little emotional as he looked out for me, like I wanted to hug him and bury my face in his strong chest because it felt nice having someone worry about me.

Which was pathetic and misguided.

I knew Declan didn’t care about me ; he was a decent guy and would do this for anyone.

In fact, since this was a game we were playing, he was probably just trying to make sure I recovered as quickly as possible so I would be okay for the rest of the day.

If I were him, I wouldn’t want me wheezing around any of his important colleagues the rest of the day.

But knowing that didn’t lessen how good it felt to be looked after.

“Is it getting any better?” he asked.

I nodded. “I think so.”

“Do you have any stronger medicine you can take? Like a nebulizer?”

I was shocked that he knew what a nebulizer was. I said, “I have one back at the apartment, but I really am starting to feel better.”

And I really was, thank God. I was still wheezy—I would be for hours—but I was able to take deep breaths again.

“Please go finish the race, Dex.”

I hadn’t meant to use his nickname, and he definitely hadn’t expected it, either. I saw his jaw flex and I regretted it because I didn’t want him to think I was overstepping.

I said, “Go run the rest of the race with everyone else, and I will catch up to you at the finish line.”

“I don’t want you walking fucking two miles right now, are you kidding?” His voice was quiet but intense, like he was trying to keep it together. “You need to just be still.”

“I appreciate this, really I do, Declan,” I said, tossing in a fake laugh to lighten the moment. “But I’m an adult—I can handle this. You go, and I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“ Can you handle it?” he asked, frustration in his voice. “Because it seems to me that you have asthma and you’re not taking care of yourself.”

I was embarrassed and also confused by how pissed he seemed. I had no idea what to do, and in spite of everything else, I was worried he wasn’t going to pay me if I didn’t finish this race.

Maybe that was why he was so frustrated.

I wasn’t fulfilling my contractual obligations because I let my asthma attack get this bad.