Chapter 8
Jack
Jack made the right call not running.
He’d known it within minutes of arriving, after overhearing someone say they were short on volunteers. When he offered to help, Steph told him he should run, but practicality and the need to put on a good race won out.
Jack wanted to gain points with Steph. If she saw he was willing to do the work, maybe she wouldn’t think so badly of him. And it meant time with her, which was reason enough.
The snack table was straightforward. Keep things filled, keep things organized, keep the kids from dismantling the candy cane display. Smile when people spoke to him. He’d done harder things.
The girls in elf suits stayed longer than necessary, as they went on about the race, the decorations, the candy canes, and his jacket, which one of them said looked like something her dad would wear.
He laughed at that and realized he could be her dad. He guessed they were around sixteen, and the math worked. He could’ve had a kid when he was twenty. Plenty of people did.
Across the park, he caught Steph’s eye for just a second before she looked away. She was attractive, even bundled up against the cold, cap low, insulated pants, and a jacket that swallowed most of her shape. Amazingly attractive.
He’d never been to a community event like this. Night had settled in, and everything was lit up, even the people. Some, like the trio of elves, were in seasonal costumes. Others wore festive headgear or light-up necklaces. Everyone seemed happy to be there.
He watched Steph after the elf teens drifted off to find the starting corral. She stopped to crouch down and talk to a kid who looked overwhelmed by the crowd and the noise. She stayed down there until the kid smiled.
Jack refilled the cocoa packets and watched her straighten back up and move on.
She crossed toward a man standing near the lit-up starting corral table. They came together easily, heads angled toward each other, and the man said something that made her laugh. Jack turned and straightened the napkin stack.
He wasn’t jealous. Why would he be? He had no standing to be jealous.
Jack turned back. They were still talking, close enough that their breath mingled in the cold air. The man had an easy way about him, comfortable in his own skin, comfortable with Steph, and she was comfortable back, and it was none of Jack’s business.
He restocked the candy canes.
The man touched Steph’s shoulder and then turned to the crowd and called out that it was time to move to the starting corral for the one mile.
His voice carried authority and familiarity in equal measure, someone who knew this event and these people.
He gave a few instructions, and the crowd began to move.
Steph stood where she was for a moment, watching them go, and Jack watched her.
The one milers went off at five sharp, the noise of several bells carrying through the park.
Steph came to the snack table a few minutes later, moving around to his side to check what needed refilling. He caught a whiff of her hair. Floral yet subtle.
She looked up at him to say something, but whatever it was, she didn’t say it.
He was aware of exactly how close they were standing. He suspected she was too.
She took a sideways step before asking, “Everything okay over here?”
“Good. I restocked the cocoa twice.”
She nodded, looking at the table rather than at him. “The mile runners will start coming back soon. Fast ones finish in under seven minutes. We’ll have a rush. Most everyone will be finished by the twenty-minute mark.”
“Sounds good.”
Steph looked up again. Something shifted in her face, some small recalculation happening behind her eyes that she didn’t put into words. Loud applause and cheering broke out. “There’s the first finishers,” she said, and the moment ended.
The rush was real. He worked, and she worked beside him, and it was the most natural thing that had happened between them since she’d landed on the sidewalk and looked up at him with her sunglasses knocked sideways, each of them repeating “good race” over and over.
She reached across him to hand things to someone on his left, and he stepped back to give her room. They moved around each other without collision or comment, the way people do when they fit in the same space.
He was impressed with how many people were running both races. The milers who came back to the table were already recapping their time and eyeing the 5K corral.
The crowd thinned. She assessed what needed restocking and handed him a box with more cocoa.
“You good?” she asked. “I need to get to the start line.”
“Go.”
She nodded and smiled. He watched her cross the grassy area and stop at the man again, the same easy exchange. And then she moved toward the starting corral, and he found things to straighten on the table that didn’t need straightening.
She started the 5K and then came back.
“Twenty minutes before the front-runners return,” she said, coming around to his side of the table again. “It’ll be quiet for a bit.”
“You do this every year?”
“Six years now.”
He nodded. “It shows.”
She looked at him sideways, like she wasn’t sure what to do with his compliment, but he didn’t push it.
They stood in a not-uncomfortable quiet for a moment.
The park still held a few people in clusters, ones who had done the mile but passed on the 5K or who were just there for the joy of being part of a happy community.
The Christmas lights Steph had strung lit up the area.
The night was clear and crisp and smelled like winter should.
“I heard more talk about the poachers while I was setting up,” she said. “A grizzly carcass. North trailhead.”
“I heard the same. Skinned out.”
She nodded, looking out at the park. “The task force will get them. It’s a matter of time. Still . . . makes me think about my night runs.”
She said it like someone who hadn’t meant to say it and knew it the second the words were out. He felt the shift, the way she pulled back without moving.
“I understand,” he said. He kept his voice easy, not pushing. “Night runs are part of it.”
She looked at him. “You’re doing night runs?”
“Planning to.”
“For what?” She paused a beat. “It’s a little early to start training for your endurance run. The weather will be different, and you don’t want to peak too soon. I can take a look at your training plan if you’d like.”
She gestured toward the registration table, where a couple stood close together, arms around each other. “Do you know Brooke Davies? Owns Irma Brew downtown?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Brooke’s running the Moose Range Run 100 in June. She hasn’t started her actual plan yet, but she will around the new year. For you, with a race at the end of August, I’d recommend waiting until mid-March. Focus on heat training.”
He’d miscalculated. She had no idea he was signed up for The Frozen Divide. And instinctively, he knew telling her now was a bad idea. As much as he hated to, it was probably best to play along.
“Uh, yeah. I was thinking I’d do some overnights just to get a feel for it, but you’re right. Best to wait until closer to the August event,” he said. “I just wanted to know what I was up against.”
It wasn’t a lie. It also wasn’t the whole truth. She nodded slowly, accepting it, but he had the distinct feeling she wasn’t fully convinced.
“That’s smart,” she finally said. “Night running is different from day running. Even something like this.” She gestured about the park.
“In town and with everything lit up, it’s not a big deal, but it still throws some people off.
It’d be rare to have your best 5K or mile time at something like this.
Not only because of the dark but because of the weather.
A run at the end of August isn’t the same as a run in December.
Or . . . ” She shrugged. “Or March. And elevation can change things too.”
He kept quiet as he realized she was baiting him. Waiting for him to say something more. He understood a winter run in town was considerably different from a winter run at high elevation in the middle of nowhere.
The Frozen Divide was a test of not only endurance but also self-sufficiency.
He’d studied the course and knew the aid stations were few and far between.
Plus, no drop bags or pacers were allowed.
He needed to carry everything with him, which was why a sturdy sled was paramount and mandatory gear was required.
Steph checked her watch. “We’ll start seeing the lead folks soon. I’m going to go make sure the finish line is ready.”
“Expect another rush?”
“Somewhat,” she agreed as she stepped away. “Not everyone hangs around. Some people go get food elsewhere.”
He smiled. “That so?”
Instead of replying, she moved away toward the finish.
He watched her go and reminded himself of the things he knew to be true about why Steph Pierce was a problem.
He got through three of them before she laughed at something someone said on the other side of the staging area and he lost the thread.
Maybe she’d like to go out for pizza?
The front-runners came in a few minutes later.
The finish line filled back up, noise and movement and the restless energy of people who had done something hard and come out the other side of it.
She was in the middle of it all, cheering every finisher through, knowing names, knowing exactly what to say to elicit smiles and high fives.
As Steph said, the post-5K crowd was considerably lighter.
Some people hung out near the table and chatted, but for the most part, people said their goodbyes and headed out.
He overheard more than one group calling out where to meet and even received several invitations of his own to meet up for burgers or sandwiches at various Irma restaurants.
Jack started cleaning things up when he noticed Steph and the man she’d been talking to earlier taking down the Christmas lights. The elf teens came back for more candy canes, and he handed them out and got the jacket comment again, slightly different this time, and laughed again.
Steph walked toward him, smiling. “Well, that’s about it. Thanks for your help tonight.”
“You’re welcome. It was fun. You’ve created a great event.”
She shrugged. “I’m sure Windy Basin is grateful for the money you gave this year.”
Ouch. The sting behind her words was definitely there. “Does everything go in the trailer?” He pointed to the couple from the registration table, managing a folding table and walking in that direction.
“We can handle the teardown. Go ahead and take off. I overheard your dinner invitations.”
“Nah, I’ll help.”
Do it. Ask her to have dinner with you.
“Suit yourself.” She turned and walked toward the trailer, but he was almost certain he caught a smile before she went.
He was falling for her. He knew it the same way he recognized most trouble—clearly, inconveniently, and too late to change anything.
Liam was going to be impossible about this.
Jack took load after load to the trailer. Steph was inside, organizing things as they were delivered.
“That’s it from the snack station,” he said.
“Perfect.” She looked out over the park.
Jack followed her gaze. The lights were down, and everything was empty. The volunteers were mostly gone too. A few people still talked, but almost all the cars had cleared out.
Now was the time. He cleared his throat. Their eyes met, holding just long enough for him to hope he might have a chance. “Um, I was thinking— ”
“Hey, Steph?” a voice called from outside the trailer. “You about ready?”
She took a step back. “Uh, yeah, Phil. Finishing up.” She smiled at Jack. “Sorry. Did you want something?”
He raised his hands. “Nah. Nothing important. Just wanted to tell you it was a good event. You’ve got an amazing system.”
“Thanks to years of practice.” She paused for a moment. “Your first event might not be super smooth. That’s to be expected.”
“Oh, I’m sure Liam will hire enough people to make it work.”
Her mouth tightened. “Indeed. Now, I’d better get the trailer locked up.”