Page 94 of My Destiny

“Well, stay here then.” I break out of his hold and continuing dressing. He just stands there watching my every move. When I walk over to the sink and pick up my toothbrush, he turns and leaves the bathroom. A smile tugs at my lips as I put a line of toothpaste on my brush. I’m eager to get out there; I need this to clear my head.

I pull my hair back into a ponytail before splashing water on my face.

I expect to see Logan back in bed sulking when I enter the room, but he’s not there. I head towards the walk-in robe to grab my runners, and I’m surprised to find him in there changing.

“Where are you going?”

“With you,” he grumbles. “I can’t have you out there running alone when there’s an abundance of hotties on the loose.”

Closing the distance between us, I fist my hand in his t-shirt and pull his face towards mine. “I only have eyes for one hottie, and that’s you, Hot Stuff.”

A smile forms on his face as I softly place my lips against his. I can’t even put into words how happy I am that he’s going with me. I’ve never had a running partner before.

“Smell that beautiful salt air,” I say, extending my hands wide and drawing the fresh air into my lungs. My eyes move to Logan, and he’s grinning as he watches me. “It’s so good to be free.”

He slides his arm around my waist, pulling me in for a chaste kiss. “Now I can take you places and not have to worry about your safety.”

That sickly feeling settles in my stomach when he says that. I just want to forget all of that for now. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Take it easy on me,” he pleads, as we break into a jog. I’ll show him how non-pansy runners are. He’ll be eating his words by the time we’re done.

He keeps up with me for the first kilometre of the three-kilometre lap around the Royal Botanic Gardens. His breathing has become rapid, and the contorted look on his face tells me that he’s beginning to struggle.

“How are you feeling?” I ask when I notice his face turning red.

“Peachy,” he replies, breathlessly. His words don’t fool me. He’s anything but peachy, but he’s far too stubborn to admit otherwise.

“Great, we’ll pick up the pace then.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, and I have to suppress my smile.

I speed up slightly, but not as much as I’d like. I feel bad, but I can guarantee after today he’ll never say running is for pansies. “We’re over the one k mark. Only two more to go.”

“What,” he says, coming to an abrupt halt. “Two more what? Kilometres?”

“Yeah, have you got a problem with that?” I try my best to keep a straight face as I jog on the spot. “You’re not pansying out on me already are you?”

“Never,” he snaps as his eyes slightly narrow. I laugh when he starts moving again.

My amusement grows as I not only catch up, but over take him. When I hear him groan from behind, I speed up a little more. “You okay?” I ask, turning around and jogging backwards.

“I’m fine.” I see a steely determination cross his face as he passes me. As fun as this is, I can’t help but feel sorry for him. He’s used to succeeding at all aspects of life, so admitting defeat is probably not an option for him.

“Do you want to stop?”

He holds his head higher. “Never.” See, I was right. I know him better than he thinks.

“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t offer.” With that, I take off, running at my usual fast pace. No more Mr. Nice Guy—or woman, in my case. I can already tell he’s not going to last much longer, but if he’s too proud to admit defeat, then who am I to stop the inevitable.

“I’m no quitter, Miss Ryan.”

“Don’t I know it, Mr. Cavanagh.” His eyes dart in my direction, so I give him a cheeky wink. Bless his stubborn heart.

A few hundred metres later, we approach a steep incline, and I fight my grin. The lactic acid is building in my legs, so I can only imagine how his must be feeling. I’ve trained myself over the years to push through the pain, but it took a long time for me to master that.

As predicted, we only make it halfway up the hill before he stops. Turning around, I continue to jog on the spot. “Can you give me a minute to catch my breath?” he says, holding up his hand momentarily.

As amusing as this has been, I can’t keep this up. I stop and walk over to him. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees as he struggles to get air into his lungs. “How about we head home?”