At least Elle understood why he wanted to do this race. She got it. She got him. She understood that these moments before the day turned hectic and wild had become essential to his wellbeing, and to his recovery. At first he thought he could run faster, bike harder, or kayak longer to prove that he’d left addiction in the dust. Then he began to accept that recovery wasn’t something you could muscle through to a finish line.

It was a daily practice.

He practiced it with intense outdoor exercise that burned in his muscles and made his heart pound. He’d always been active, but getting the bad shit out of his system had given him the chance to become an athlete in a new way. The rigor of his workout was part of how he gave back—to himself. After years of pouring crap into his body, he now chose to do the opposite. To treat his body like a temple.

Of course, there were other ways he enjoyed being good to the body, and last night was a prime example. He replayed the stairwell, the sink, the sexy sounds she made, and the sounds he didn’t let her make.

Splash.

He nearly missed a paddle stroke, and he laughed quietly. Picturing Elle’s hot body, and remembering her ravenous appetite, was not conducive to focused morning exercise. He repositioned the paddle and continued rowing closer to shore.

No time to linger on the woman while in the water. Just concentrate on finishing the workout.

He raised his eyes to the edge of the lake and blinked. What the hell?

A woman with long, wavy brown hair, and a badass skater girl outfit waved to him—big, broad, wildly happy waves. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “What do you think? Can I wear this kayaking?”

Striking a playful pose, she gestured to her outfit. She was a sight all right, in her tattered jean shorts and wife-beater tee, displaying the ink on her arms and wearing those crazy socks. She didn’t look outdoorsy at all, but who fucking cared? He cracked up as a surge of happiness bounded through him. The last thing in the world he’d expected to see this morning was Elle. But the furious beating in his heart as he dragged the kayak ashore had little to do with the exertion and more to do with the utter delight of his unexpected morning visitor.

He tapped the side of the fiberglass hull. “So you decided to take me up on my offer to hit the lake?”

“Not entirely,” she said, with a coquettish little grin and sway of the hips. “I don’t think I have the right gear. But I thought I could take you out for a quick breakfast to say thanks for getting me out of the house last night. I had fun. I did some Yelp research and there’s an organic cafe that serves steel-cut oats and handpicked blueberries on the way back to town. I’m guessing that’s the only thing you put in your body in the morning?”

He fought back a grin. She knew him too well.

“Don’t know where you got the idea that I was some kind of health nut,” he said, with a “who me” to his tone.

“It’s a mystery to me, too.”

The real mystery though was why she was here. This wasn’t like her. Not the Elle who had defined lines, rules, and boxes for him. On the one hand, maybe this was another acceptable sliver of time. But on the other, maybe she was here because he’d changed his approach and shown her a fun date last night. He hoped it was the latter, but whatever the reason, he’d gladly take it, and not just because those sexy socks made him think how insanely hot she’d look if they were the only thing she wore.

But because she was here.

* * *

“Where’s Alex?” Colin asked after they ordered at the Ampersand & Pie, an off-the-beaten-path cafe with chalkboard menus and wooden chairs painted sky blue. They’d opted for a table on the outdoor patio.

“Not sure if you know this about teenage boys, but they have a thing for sleeping in,” she said, tapping her watch. “It’s seven a.m., and he’ll be sound asleep ’til at least nine.”

He gestured for her to come closer then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I do know that about teenage boys having once, you know, been one,” he said, and she laughed. He reached for his coffee. “It was quite a surprise to see you at the shore.”

“Not a bad one, I hope?”

“Never a bad one. But tell me. Why didn’t you want to go kayaking? I would have gone back out on the water with you.”

She shrugged and reached for a napkin on the table. “I figured there wasn’t really time.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing her. She folded and unfolded the napkin but didn’t say any more.

He dropped a hand onto hers. “Okay, obviously, it’s not about whether you had enough time to kayak. You’re nervous, like you were with the zip line.”

She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily. This felt less like fun and more like talking. But, something inside her wanted the talking. Not just about movies and the mob, but other things—the things that had brought them together in the first place. Talking about life. Was this why she’d felt the urge to find him this morning?

She worried away at her lip then sighed as she answered. “It’s not that I’m afraid of kayaking. I just don’t like activities that have a high possibility of death. Car racing, bungee jumping, kayaking…” She added, pointedly, “Or rock climbing.”

He laughed. “You can’t keep me away from that sport. And fine, the first two, sure. They can be dangerous—”

“So can rock climbing. You broke your tibia doing it.”

“And lived to tell the tale. In fact,” he said, tapping his calf, “everything works just fine in both legs. But let’s get back to kayaking. You can swim, right? Wait. Don’t tell me. Elle Mariano can’t swim and my next project is to teach her how to dog paddle?”

She tossed the napkin at him, pinging his shoulder with it. “I can totally swim!”

She just didn’t like to anymore.

“So what is it?” he asked, tilting his head, waiting. Simply waiting. Giving her time to answer, as well as time to study his handsome face. Dark scruff lined his jaw—that sexy, all-over stubble that she loved to feel against her. His brown eyes were the shade of espresso, and focused intently on her. She’d made a career out of listening to others, but she suspected she could learn from him, because this man made her feel as if he was hearing every single word.

She half wished there was some deep, dark reason for her mini phobias. Okay, not really. But it would be easier than the truth, which was that it hadn’t taken much for her to become a fraidycat when it came to certain activities. “It’s not as if there’s some terrible traumatic story from my childhood, like I was caught in a current, or was attacked by a jellyfish, or that I nearly drowned. But when I was younger, a bunch of us used to go swimming at a lake, and jump off this rock ledge into it. One time when I did, I cut my head on a rock.”

He winced. “Ouch. Were you okay?”

She nodded quickly. “Yes. I mean, there was a lot of blood, and my mother did her best impression of a calm nurse as her daughter’s head bled and she took me to the ER. I got a few stitches right under my hairline, and everything was fine,” she said, pushing her hair away from her ear to show him that she had no scar, no marks. “But still. It freaked me out. And I just realized that I didn’t want to take chances like that again. That I could be safer if I didn’t do stuff like that.”

“But you do roller derby,” he said in a gentle voice.

“Ah,” she said, holding up her index finger to make her point. “The seeming contradiction. But see, I’ve always skated, and it’s indoors, and there are no rocks, or dangerous currents, or cliffs to fall off of. And I like to be active, so skating seems the more reasonable risk. But that’s also why I’m a blocker, not a jammer.”

He raised an eyebrow in a question.

“Blocker is defense. Not as many injuries. It’s the safer position.”