continued to stretch their muscles as the announcer talked, telling them about the cause they were running for, about the rules, etc. Soon they were off.
McKenzie never tried to take the lead early on. In some races she never took the lead. Not that she didn’t always do her best, but sometimes there were just faster runners for that particular distance. Today she expected to do well, but perhaps not win as she was much more of an endurance runner than a speed one.
Lance ran beside her and to her pleased surprise he didn’t try to talk. In the past when she’d convinced friends to run with her, they’d wanted to have a gab session. That was until they became so breathless they stopped to walk, and then they often expected her to stop and walk with them.
McKenzie ran.
Lance easily kept pace with her. Halfway in she began to wonder if she was slowing him down rather than the other way around. She picked up her pace, pushing herself, suddenly wanting distance between them. Without any huffing or puffing he ran along beside her as if she hadn’t just upped their pace. That annoyed her.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” she accused a little breathily, thinking it was bad when she was the one reverting to talking. Next thing you knew she’d be stopping to walk.
“Me?” His gaze cut to her. “I told you that I ran.”
“I’ve never seen you at any of the local runs and yet clearly you do run.”
“I don’t do organized runs or competitions.”
Didn’t do organized runs or competitions? McKenzie frowned. What kind of an answer was that when he clearly enjoyed running as much as she did? Well, maybe almost as much.
“That’s hard to believe with the way you’re into every charity in the region,” she said. “Why wouldn’t you participate in these fund-raisers when they’re an easy way to raise money for great causes? For that matter, why aren’t you organizing races to raise money for all your special causes?”
McKenzie was a little too smart for her own good. Lance was involved with a large number of charities and helped support many others, but never those that had to do with running.
He did run several times a week, but always alone, always to clear his head, always with someone else at his side, mentally if not physically.
High school cross-country had been where he’d first met Shelby. She’d been a year older than him and had had a different set of friends, so although he’d seen the pretty brunette around school he hadn’t known her. She’d have been better off if he never had.
“No one can do everything,” he answered McKenzie.
“I’m beginning to think you do.”
“Not even close. You and I just happen to have a lot in common. We enjoy the same things.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I don’t enjoy singing.”
“I think you would if you’d relax.”
“Standing onstage, with people looking at me?” She cut her gaze to him. “Never going to happen.”
Keeping his pace matched to hers, he glanced at her. “You don’t like things that make people look at you, do you, McKenzie?”
“Nope.”
“Because of your parents?”
“I may not have mentioned this before, but I don’t like talking while I run. I’m a silent runner.”
He chuckled. “That a hint for me to be quiet?”
“You catch on quick.”
They kept up the more intense pace until they crossed the finish line. The last few minutes of the race Lance debated on whether or not to let McKenzie cross the finish line first. Ultimately, he decided she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d appreciate a man letting her win.
In the last stretch he increased his speed. So did McKenzie. If he hadn’t been a bit winded, he’d have laughed at her competitive spirit. Instead, he ran.
So did she.
They crossed the finish line together. The judge declared Lance the winner by a fraction of a second, but Lance would have just as easily have believed that McKenzie had crossed first.
She was doubled over, gasping for air. His own lungs couldn’t suck in enough air either. He walked around, slowly catching his breath. When he turned back, she was glaring.
“You were holding out on me,” she accused breathlessly, her eyes narrowed.
“Huh?”
“You were considering letting me win.” Her words came out a little choppy between gasps for air.
“In case you didn’t notice…” he sucked in a deep gulp of air “…I was trying to cross that finish line first.”
“You were sandbagging.”
He laughed. “Sandbagging?”
“How long have you been running?”
“Since high school.” Not that he wanted to talk about it. He didn’t. Talking about this particular subject might lead to questions he didn’t want to answer.
“You competed?”
He nodded.
“Me, too.” She straightened, fully expanding her lungs with air. “I did my undergraduate studies on a track scholarship.”
Despite the memories assailing him, the corners of Lance’s mouth tugged upward. “Something else we have in common.”
McKenzie just looked at him, then rolled her eyes. “We don’t have that much in common.”
“More than you seem to want to acknowledge.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “Let’s go congratulate the guy who beat us both. He lives about thirty minutes from here. His time is usually about twenty to thirty seconds better than mine. He usually only competes in the five-kilometer races, though. Nothing shorter, nothing longer.”
They congratulated the winner, hung out around the tent, rehydrating, got their second and third place medals, then headed toward McKenzie’s house.
They showered together then, a long time later, got ready to go and eat.
The first day of the New Year turned into the first week, then the first month.
McKenzie began to feel panicky, knowing her time with Lance was coming to an end as the one-month mark came and went. Each day following passed like sand swiftly falling through an hourglass.
