Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Essential Electromagnetism.” Jett craned his head to read the title of my textbook, then shot a wicked lopsided grin my way. “That sounds exciting.”
“It is,” I assured him, stuffing the book into my backpack. “But that’s enough fun for me. I was just about to take to the trails…as they say.”
“Oh, is that what they say?” He uncapped his water bottle.
My gaze snagged on the slide of his Adam’s apple before traveling the planes of his toned, tattooed torso. I gulped. It was probably audible too and yes, that was embarrassing, but it couldn’t be helped. Jett Erickson was an imposing and exceptionally striking man. In addition to being undeniably attractive, he was built like a Greek god. Adonis in the flesh.
“Uh…” I opened and closed my mouth like a codfish, willing myself to focus. I stood abruptly, tugging at the sleeves of my sweatshirt and studiously averting my eyes as he finished the water and tossed the bottle into the recycle bin next to the bench. “I’m going to stretch the ol’ limbs and get some exercise.”
Jett furrowed his brow. “You’re going out now? It’s gonna be dark in twenty minutes, Maloney.”
“That’s okay. I have pepper spray in the improbable event that I’m accosted or—”
“No.”
“I beg your pardon?” I lifted my brows in my most imperious fashion, hoping to convey the steely will of someone dedicated to physical health and fitness.
I failed.
Jett rolled his eyes and checked his watch. “If you really want to run, I’ll do a mile with you. It’ll give me a chance to tell you that I’m not going to change my mind about being your science experiment again.”
I frowned. “I didn’t ask you to be the experiment. I simply need your data to—”
“Save it, Maloney. We’re running here.”
“All right. Let me get organized.” I zipped my backpack and set it on my shoulders. Ignoring his amused scrutiny, I tightened the drawstring on my sweats and attempted my version of a lunge. “Don’t laugh. Stretching is important. It improves flexibility and reduces the risk of injury.”
He lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m not laughing. I promise. But can I give you a tip? ’Cause you’re not really stretching. You’re just sort of leaning on your heel.”
I sputtered as Jett bent to push my left leg behind me, forcing me into a wider stance. “What are you—ow.”
“Relax and breathe.” He stood, gesturing for me to switch feet as he whipped a tee from the waistband of his shorts and pulled it over his head. “Good. Now, give me your bag.”
“Why?” I asked, already missing my view of pecs and abs.
He gently tugged the backpack from me without replying, letting it slip precariously close to the ground before pantomiming someone hefting a sack filled with boulders.
The charade was…well, rather humorous.
“This weighs at least ten pounds. It’ll only slow you down, and there’s no need for that. I’ll carry it.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Keep stretching, professor.”
He talked me through a few poses, and after what felt like twenty minutes but was probably closer to two, Jett declared us ready to begin.
He set a slow and steady pace along the generous pathway. And other than occasionally coaching me to breathe through my nose and out through my mouth, he was quiet. His strides were long but measured, his gaze fixed forward, a serene expression on his sinfully sexy profile…as if he truly enjoyed this tedious form of outdoor exercise.
Me? Not a fan. At all.
Number one: it was difficult to gather my thoughts and maintain a conversation while simultaneously worrying about tripping on shoelaces and coughing up a lung. Number two: I was well aware that I was making a fool of myself in the presence of a real-life athlete. Jett wasn’t winded in the slightest, his words weren’t garbled, and he hadn’t needed a single break.
“The…device you’d wear…is…unintru-sive,” I heaved, slapping one sneaker in front of the other, my elbows flailing at my sides. “You wouldn’t…notice…it. And as I…mentioned…”
Jett stopped abruptly, hands on hips. “Is there water in your backpack?”
I nodded, slumping against a nearby tree as he fished the canister out, unscrewed the top, and handed it over. I thanked him. At least I’d intended to. I’d lost the ability to form a continuous sentence. “Thank you” came across as “th-ank…y-ou.”
I swept my hand across my forehead and sighed. “Running is…fun, isn’t it?”
Jett smiled. “It can be, but I think what we’re doing is more of a light jog.”
“Po-ta-toes, po-tah-toes.”
He pursed his lips as if to curb a burst of laughter, but lost the battle and snickered like a kid.
“You’re funny, Maloney.” He clapped. “C’mon, let’s keep going.”
“Oh, no, no. Just…two more minutes. Please. I haven’t gone running—”
“Jogging.”
“In a long time,” I continued. “Not since junior high school when my sadistic physical education instructor, Mr. Engells, made us run around the track, loop after loop, once a week without fail.”