Page 45 of Own the Eights
He raised an eyebrow. “You, a meandering walker, think you can sprint as fast as someone who trains like an Olympic athlete?”
“Two,” she bit out, unmoved by his rhetoric.
“This should be interesting,” he said, now without the smirk and not quite so much swagger.
“Three.”
He took a step back. “You’re taking this very seriously, Georgiana.”
“Four,” she roared and raised her hands into the air like a sorceress calling the four corners.
“Holy shit!” he whisper-shouted.
Maybe her eyes had turned red like some evil super-villain or maybe her head twisted around like the chick in theExorcist,but before she got to five, Jordan took off like a shot.
“Five,” she whispered, channeling the drive of her Brice Casey scorn. Her vision narrowed, and she was off.
Legs pumping and arms slicing through the air, she focused on her mark,Jordan Marks, and blasted off the sidewalk. Jordan glanced over his shoulder as fear and disbelief flashed in his eyes. He picked up his pace, jumping over a yipping Pomeranian, then crossed the street and headed for the park.
Georgie sprinted, unfazed by the barking ball of fluff because there was no stopping her now. With the agility of a gazelle, a really pissed off gazelle, she closed in on him.
“You’re such a Brice Casey!” she cried and lunged forward.
Grabbing onto his arm, her leg crossed in front of his, and they tumbled to the ground in a heap of gasps and yelps.
“Jesus Christ, Georgie!” he exclaimed, his back pressed to the ground.
She straddled him, like a hunter, prepared to wrestle her prey into submission. “Gotcha,” she gasped.
His eyes as wide as saucers, he stared up at her. “That was crazy! Why’d you tackle me?”
Now, it was her turn to smirk. “You told me to pretend you were Brice Casey, and that douche canoe is the epitome of every jerk who thinks women are put on this planet to be an ornament on their arm.”
“This guy really hurt you,” Jordan said gently as something akin to shame or maybe remorse washed over his expression. He reached up and cupped her cheek in his warm hand. And, damn, if it wasn’t exactly what she’d needed.
She took a breath and regained her composure. “Are you okay, Jordan? Please tell me I didn’t injure the Marks Perfect Ten Mindset expert.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, all five foot six inches of you really wrecked me.”
But his eyes weren’t laughing. Instead, they shined with concern.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she was about to melt into the gentle touch of the asshat who could ruin everything for her, while at the same time, made her feel whole when a slow clap caught her attention.
She glanced up and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, where two artificially flawless humans towered above them.
“Oh, Daniel, look how cute they are. They’re like little puppies.”
The Dannies.
Were they here for a challenge? She hadn’t gotten a text.
“Georgie, we should get up,” Jordan said, voice void of emotion.
At the sight of their main competition, he’d gone into battle-mode.
“Yes, you’re right,” she replied, scrambling off him and onto her feet.
“Are you guys out for a walk?” Jordan asked the Dannies, coming to her side.
