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Rhett laughed, despite himself.We’re not open today. The roads are too slick. Everything’s canceled. Go home.“C’mon in.”
Constance stamped her feet and brushed ice balls from her coat before she hung it on the hook beside the door. She removed her cap and gloves, stuffed them in the pocket of her coat and ran her hands through her hair. Full of electricity, the pale red hair stood up on end, making it look like she’d stuck her finger in a socket.
“Am I the only one here?” She surveyed the empty gym, mostly in darkness. Rhett had only turned on the office lights.
He eyed her outfit for today. The unicorn shirt was gone, replaced by a Marine Corps Marathon tee that seemed old and too big and a pair of black joggers. “It’s sleeting outside, My Pretty Pony. It’s just you and me.”
Her pale cheeks flushed. Normally, he might not notice but she had that porcelain skin only redheads could pull off, perfectly clear without a freckle in sight. “Right,” she said. “I can go.”
“You’re already here.” Rhett motioned toward the office. “Let’s have a talk. Get some info, discuss your goals.”
She hesitated. For an instant, fear ran through those crystal clear eyes. She cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said. She took a seat inside the office without fuss. “I really don’t need to take up your time. I thought there’d be a group. A large group.” She twiddled her fingers together.
“I’m your group today.” Rhett settled in his desk chair, went silent and waited for her attention.
She turned her chin up to face him. She was silent, her eyes searching his, like she had questions for him, rather than the other way around.
Rhett felt the look deep in his gut, which made him shift in his chair. He was hard to rattle; certainly didn’t happen when a harmless, awkward woman came in to see about a gym membership. The longer she stared at him, her lips working in micromovements, like she was searching for words, the more uncomfortable he got. There went that feeling again.
Rhett cleared his throat abruptly. “So you were in here yesterday. How’d you like it?”
“It was torture.” She didn’t crack a smile.
“Yet you’re back.” Rhett kept his own smile suppressed.
She bit back anything she might have to say, because no words came out.
“Let’s start with your history.” Rhett decided to keep the ball rolling. “What kind of fitness background do you have?” He nodded at her shirt. “Runner?”
Her hand went to her chest, like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Once upon a time. I used to run the Marine Corps Marathon every year. Back before it was a lottery.”
“Nice. What’s your best time?”
“Three twenty-two.”
It came out memorized, as if from pride. “Not bad.” He let his eyebrows go up. Really decent time actually.
“Thanks. You, um—” she bit down on her lower lip “—you a runner?” She eyed his sore leg.
Rhett had thought she was paying close scrutiny to his limp, but he hadn’t been sure until now. “I run on Sundays to clear my head.” Running, for him, was more like meditation than exercise. Unless, of course, he was doing sprints. Those were a whole different story. “I’ve done the MCM once or twice. I think your time is better than mine. I’d have to look it up.” His best time was exactly twenty minutes better than hers, but she didn’t need to know that.
“That was a couple of years ago.” A tiny smile crooked the corner of her mouth. “I was more into running then. I was...different then.” She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest, covering the anchor, eagle and globe that made up the official insignia and emblem of the marine corps.
“You’ve still got the shirt.” Rhett nodded toward the old tee. “You’re proud of it. It’s still a part of who you are.”
She uncrossed her arms. “This was my dad’s. None of mine fit. Well.” She cocked her head. “I don’t like how I look in them, anyway.”
Only then did Rhett realize the shirt was from the Fifth Annual Marine Corps Marathon. Constance Morrigan, age thirty-three, wouldn’t have even been alive.
She offered up that wry little smile. “The entry fee was two dollars.”
Rhett laughed. “That’s awesome. Your dad a marine?”
“Army. Vietnam vet.” She waited a heartbeat, then added, “My parents had kids later in life.”
Rhett felt a twinge, deep in his gut. “Thank him for his service.”
“He’s dead.”
