was for her to discern Nick's methods, she couldn't even begin to fathom his motives. What a former Olympian was doing as a personal running coach payrolled by the Gazette , she had no idea. At the moment, all she cared about was getting this assessment over with as quickly as possible.
Mattie arrived at her old high school's field house with five minutes to spare. As soon as she stepped onto the property, she felt her face start to break out and her hair begin to frizz. The all-too-familiar urge to duck into the nearest bathroom and hide threatened to overtake her.
Standing at the entrance of the indoor track, the same debilitating unease that accompanied her every day before gym class began to wash over her. She scanned the cavernous space for any sign of Nick, but didn't see him. Instead, she spied a dozen or so senior citizens shuffling along on the inside lanes of the track and women wearing nothing but sport bras and matching shorts jogging past them in the outer lanes. Not a jiggle in sight.
The Pop Tart Mattie had for breakfast sat like a hard, indigestible lump in her stomach. She was cold, wet, and ready to sell her soul for a cup of hot coffee.
Before long, she heard footsteps approach behind her.
"Did you bring the forms?"
Startled by the sound of Nick's voice, Mattie turned to face him.
Like his brother, he had a commanding presence. He looked sharp, dressed in a charcoal gray workout suit and a slightly frayed, royal blue Cubs hat. And, like his brother, he had the annoying ability to look as drop-dead gorgeous first thing in the morning as he did when he was dressed to the nines for dinner at a five-star restaurant.
Mattie brushed an errant curl off her forehead and retrieved the folded sheets of paper from her pocket. "I trust it's ok that I didn't get my parents' signature?"
Nick inspected the forms before tucking them under other papers already affixed to his clipboard. Pointing at her feet, he asked, "What are those?"
She looked down at her plaid Keds, gushing with water every time she took a step, and replied, "Gee, Nick. I thought you of all people would know. These are called shoes ."
In reply, he scrawled something on the clipboard he was carrying then led her to the center of the track. Hurrying after him, Mattie whispered as loudly as she dared, "Why is it so crowded in here? These aren't all teachers, are they? I thought we'd have some privacy."
Nick stared straight over the top of her head and said, "The track is open to the public from five to seven every morning. Anybody can use it. It's co-sponsored by the park district."
Nodding at his explanation, she hoped whatever he was going to make her do wouldn't take an hour and a half. She stood in front of him, arms folded, and braced herself.
"So, let's get this over with. Assess me."
From under the brim of his hat, Nick's eyes locked onto hers. "Excuse me?"
Mattie stared back at him for a second too long, feeling as if she had just been zapped by the tiniest of electric charges. She shifted from one waterlogged shoe to the other, wishing she could make herself invisible.
"Assess me," she repeated. "Isn't that what you said you were going to do this morning?"
He lowered his eyes to his clipboard. "When I'm good and ready."
Mattie rolled her eyes and shot back, "Fine."
Nick frowned at her. "Fine yourself. Give me a lap."
"What?" Mattie cried a little too loudly, drawing attention from the early morning fitness fanatics running circles around them.
"You heard me. One lap. No stopping." When she didn't move, he pointed to the track, clicked his stopwatch, and added, "Lane one. Move it."
I'm in hell…
She slipped off her jacket and let it fall in a puffy pile at Nick's feet.
As if she was testing for quick sand, she took a tentative step onto the black rubbery surface of the track. Once she was certain it would not swallow her whole, she began shuffling along in the same direction as everyone else, doing her best to minimize the
Mattie arrived at her old high school's field house with five minutes to spare. As soon as she stepped onto the property, she felt her face start to break out and her hair begin to frizz. The all-too-familiar urge to duck into the nearest bathroom and hide threatened to overtake her.
Standing at the entrance of the indoor track, the same debilitating unease that accompanied her every day before gym class began to wash over her. She scanned the cavernous space for any sign of Nick, but didn't see him. Instead, she spied a dozen or so senior citizens shuffling along on the inside lanes of the track and women wearing nothing but sport bras and matching shorts jogging past them in the outer lanes. Not a jiggle in sight.
The Pop Tart Mattie had for breakfast sat like a hard, indigestible lump in her stomach. She was cold, wet, and ready to sell her soul for a cup of hot coffee.
Before long, she heard footsteps approach behind her.
"Did you bring the forms?"
Startled by the sound of Nick's voice, Mattie turned to face him.
Like his brother, he had a commanding presence. He looked sharp, dressed in a charcoal gray workout suit and a slightly frayed, royal blue Cubs hat. And, like his brother, he had the annoying ability to look as drop-dead gorgeous first thing in the morning as he did when he was dressed to the nines for dinner at a five-star restaurant.
Mattie brushed an errant curl off her forehead and retrieved the folded sheets of paper from her pocket. "I trust it's ok that I didn't get my parents' signature?"
Nick inspected the forms before tucking them under other papers already affixed to his clipboard. Pointing at her feet, he asked, "What are those?"
She looked down at her plaid Keds, gushing with water every time she took a step, and replied, "Gee, Nick. I thought you of all people would know. These are called shoes ."
In reply, he scrawled something on the clipboard he was carrying then led her to the center of the track. Hurrying after him, Mattie whispered as loudly as she dared, "Why is it so crowded in here? These aren't all teachers, are they? I thought we'd have some privacy."
Nick stared straight over the top of her head and said, "The track is open to the public from five to seven every morning. Anybody can use it. It's co-sponsored by the park district."
Nodding at his explanation, she hoped whatever he was going to make her do wouldn't take an hour and a half. She stood in front of him, arms folded, and braced herself.
"So, let's get this over with. Assess me."
From under the brim of his hat, Nick's eyes locked onto hers. "Excuse me?"
Mattie stared back at him for a second too long, feeling as if she had just been zapped by the tiniest of electric charges. She shifted from one waterlogged shoe to the other, wishing she could make herself invisible.
"Assess me," she repeated. "Isn't that what you said you were going to do this morning?"
He lowered his eyes to his clipboard. "When I'm good and ready."
Mattie rolled her eyes and shot back, "Fine."
Nick frowned at her. "Fine yourself. Give me a lap."
"What?" Mattie cried a little too loudly, drawing attention from the early morning fitness fanatics running circles around them.
"You heard me. One lap. No stopping." When she didn't move, he pointed to the track, clicked his stopwatch, and added, "Lane one. Move it."
I'm in hell…
She slipped off her jacket and let it fall in a puffy pile at Nick's feet.
As if she was testing for quick sand, she took a tentative step onto the black rubbery surface of the track. Once she was certain it would not swallow her whole, she began shuffling along in the same direction as everyone else, doing her best to minimize the
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