Other than that, she wore simple black running tights and a cropped athletic top in black with pink detailing along the bottom. He could see goose bumps on her shoulders and arms but knew they’d warm up soon enough.

“Don’t leave me in your dust,” he said as he limbered up.

She buffed her hot-pink nails on one breast. “I’ll think about it.”

Face flushing, he bent to check his perfectly laced-up shoes. He could not be thinking about Catie’s breasts. Ever. Even if they were round and firm and made his mouth water.

Oh, fuck, fuck, Fuck.

“You ready?”

Coughing, he rose. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

They weren’t the only ones on the track—the odd person shot a fascinated glance toward Catie’s blades, but most of the regulars just grinned when they saw the two of them together.

One had the audacity to yell, “I fucking Knew it!”

When Danny gave him the finger, he just laughed and ran on.

As did Catie, with Danny at her side. He lagged deliberately behind now and then just so he could watch her move. She was pure grace on her blades, her body fluid with muscle designed for speed. When she challenged him to sprints with a glint in her eye, he groaned.

“I am not up for public humiliation. I’ll time you if you want to do some speed tests.”

She laughed and let him off the hook on the race, but took him up on the offer of timing her sprints. Though she’d kept to the rules of the track and chosen the otherwise empty outside lane for her sprint, everyone stopped to watch her run. He swore he felt the slap of a powerful wind when she snapped past him on the finish line.

“Holy hell, Catie!” he yelled. “You’re hitting above your personal best! Faster than the time with which you won silver!”

That was insane when she wasn’t currently on a full training schedule. As with most athletes, she took down time in order to allow her body to recover. Of course she was still running—she just wasn’t doing it with the same focused concentration as when building up to a meet.

She jogged back to him, face beaming. “Seriously?”

He showed her the competition-grade stopwatch he’d borrowed from one of the other runners. The numbers were crystal clear.

“Paralympic gold,” she huffed, hands on her thighs. “Here I come.”

“I’m going to watch you win it.” It was a vow.

She glanced up at that instant, a goddess in the sun, and he knew he’d blown it. He wasn’t good at faking stuff, and right that instant, he was looking at her with all the admiration and need he felt inside.

Her pupils dilated. A glance down before she straightened to her full height.