Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
I stare at the brand new pair of Nike running shoes, my eyes tripping over their dark uppers and their white soles.
I pick up the bright pink laces that came with them and scrunch up my nose.
Lacing the shoes takes me a couple of minutes and the shoes are surprisingly light weight in my hands.
Then I glanced at the handwritten note one final time.
Keir didn’t sign the note. Then again, he hardly needed to. His imperious tone could be heard through the furiously scribbled-off note. Shifting from foot to foot, I consider his words.
Why did he leave me these shoes? Does he think that I need to run for some reason? I have tried it since I left my knee rehabilitation, but I’ve never really liked running. After all, why run when you can dance?
I crumpled the note, feeling a flash of anger run through my veins.
I suppose that I can’t actually dance. And I have felt like I have been sitting around, losing muscle tone and gaining weight ever since the New York Ballet benched me.
So, no matter what his intentions are in giving me these running shoes, the worst thing I could possibly do right now is to ignore his demand to meet him downstairs.
Pulling on black running shorts and a pink and black purity ring tee shirt, I lace my shoes up.
Checking myself out in the mirror for a final time, I adjust my hair just a little and then add a white hat.
Feeling stylish yet sporty, I head downstairs, thinking idly that I’m glad that going downstairs can still be fun and easy.
As opposed to climbing these three flights of stairs, which I do several times a day.
And yet I still trip a little, my right foot catching the edge of a stair here and there.
Getting to the bottom of the stairs, I race to the front door, pulling to a stop when it swings open.
Keir is standing there, lit by only the dim front lights.
My eyes travel up and down his body, noting the lightweight black jacket and the grey running shorts.
I raise an eyebrow at his shorts because they are short and silky, highlighting his…
package… in a way that I personally find blush-inducing.
What’s not covered in material are his legs, lean and long and toned.
When he crosses his arms, his biceps bulge and his look of annoyance really makes his cheekbones jut out.
I can say what I will about his personality. Keir is gorgeous to look at. And I think I’m about to find out just how he stays so perfectly fit.
He cocks his head, impatient. “Well?”
I scamper forward, clearing my throat. My cheeks are hot as I step past him. Keir’s hand shoots out and grabs my arm. I look at him, electrified by his touch and startled by him stopping me. I can’t read anything in his expression beyond impatience.
“It’s quite cold outside. You’ll need a jacket.”
My face contorts. “Why do I need to go running again?”
“Because, Ella.” He turns me loose with a tiny glare.
“I contacted the finest orthopedic surgeon in the UK. He says that at this point in your recovery from your injury, the only way that you can possibly get back into fighting form is to very slowly try to ease back into exercise. I mentioned running and he thought it was a good idea.”
A snort escapes me. “I’m so glad that you have been discussing my physical impairment with other people. That’s just great.”
Giving him a sarcastic thumbs up, I turn back toward the stairs. Keir’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, stopping me dead.
“Don’t be childish.”
“I’m not.” I shrug off his touch, turning to fire a hard glare at him.
He narrows his eyes on my face, considering. “What if I made it worth your while?”
Crossing my arms to cover my chest, I scrunch up my nose. “Why would you do that?”
He rolls his eyes. “You have to be here for a while. So what would it take for me to get you to run with me for… let’s say, ten days.”
My brow descends. “Like a bribe?”
He stares at me so intently that I feel like his blue eyes see right through me. I lift my chin, my face heating again, a kernel of defiance blooming in the air between us.
Keir reaches up to my face and brushes a few strands of my hair back, his long fingers smoothing them against my skull. For a second, just the briefest moment, my whole body tightens.
“Ella.” He whispers my name, his voice gruff. There is a hint of longing in his expression. And something more, maybe a note of regret.
“Yes?” I say, my voice an answering whisper.
Keir clears his throat, dropping his hand and moving back half a step. “Name your price. Let’s get moving.”
My cheeks are red hot. I press the backs of my hands against them and clear my throat.
“I want to see the Glasgow ballet.”
He seems a little taken aback by my request. “That’s all?”
Eyeing him, I give him a tiny smirk. “And, of course, I will need to go shopping. Somewhere expensive where I can get an outfit appropriate for the ballet.”
“I see.” His lips twitch. “I think that can be arranged.”
I stick out my hand. He blinks and looks at me for a second before shaking it, his grip hard and the feel of his fingers causing heat to spread out in my body like a starburst.
“If you’ll wear one of my running jackets, it’s a deal. It’s fucking cold outside before the sun is fully up.”
Rolling my eyes, I move toward the front door. Keir is so overbearing and I feel sort of infantilized by his Mother Hen attitude.
I decide that the best way to defuse his offer is to tease him. “Sure. If you need to dote on me and take care of me, go right ahead.”
“You know what?” He shoots me a glare. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Making a soft sound of aggravation, I point to the hall closet. “Is there a jacket in here?”
Keir’s reply is sulky. “Probably.”
Fishing an ultra-lightweight jacket out of the closet, I pull it on and zip it up. Keir walks outside, clearly still pissed that I made fun of him. His jaw is all taut as he stretches his arms.
“Okay, let’s go.” I close the door behind me with effort and then look at the long downhill slope of the massive hill we are on.
It’s important for me to remember that no matter how long I decide to jog and how hard I push myself, I’m going to need to climb that hill as the end to my run.
At least when I’m on my way back, there should be some light to see by.
Right now, I can only make out indistinct shapes and the long white gravel line of the road.
Keir takes off at a casual trot and I follow him. We jog down the hill, me trying my hardest not to act like this is the very first time I’ve ever exercised in my whole damn life. There isn’t much to look at yet because of the early hour so I focus on my form and breathing instead.
For several minutes, it’s just me and my breath. It is cold despite the jacket but I don’t dare say anything. As I fall into a rhythm, the scenery speeds by me, barely registering.
Still, twenty minutes in, I’m winded. Not only that, but my right knee burns, like I have hot fire ants just below the surface of my skin, in a place that I can’t scratch.
As we jog up a hill, I slow down, getting a stitch in my side. Keir glances back at me and slows his pace.
“Come on. Just make it to the top of this hill. Then you can take a break.”
I hate the fact that he’s seeing me be so damn weak. More than that, I hate that I’m so obviously out of breath and out of shape.
How did someone who runs as easily as Keir decide that hooking up with a damaged former ballerina was a good idea?
At this exact moment, I feel intense shame about my body and about how I have let myself slide from being a professional athlete to being this weak pile of guts.
“Ella?” Keir prompts.
I nod, my mind churning. Keeping my head down, I try so hard to focus on my breathing and form and push all the negative thoughts that crowd in on me back a step.
Then suddenly, I am at the top of the hill. I slow to a walk, breathing hard. My lungs scream at me and for a second, spots swim in my vision.
Keir waits for me, beckoning. “Come. I promise, you only have to walk a few hundred feet.”
Damn his charming accent. I puff out my cheeks and tell myself that I’m going to be all right.
Sucking in deep breaths, I nod my assent.
I follow Keir off the main road and down a dirt path that seemingly leads into a bramble.
Keir seems certain of his trajectory so I follow, desperately trying not to pant as hard and as loudly as I want to.
Suddenly we walk out of the bramble onto a very short stone cliff.
The entire world falls away. A few shafts of early morning sun grace the valley below, just brushing the tops of its verdant, dewy hills.
I see shades of green, navy, and purple, each color softly painted by shafts of golden sunlight.
It’s absolutely stunning. Without even realizing it, I snake out my hand and grab Keir’s forearm, gripping it tightly.
How he knew that this would be the exact moment that I needed to see this gorgeous landscape, I don’t know. But somehow, he did.
He touches my lower back, jerking his head toward a large, low rock sitting nearby. It forms a natural bench of sorts, as evidenced by the old cola can sitting on one end. People obviously frequent this place.
“Let’s sit,” he says. Like everything else that comes out of his mouth, it’s a demand, not a suggestion.
But I’m still a little out of breath. And this view… when Keir grabs my hand and drags me over to the bench, I go willingly.