Phoebe's POV
The next morning, I climbed out of bed and wandered to the window—a ritual I'd developed to check if Harold was lurking outside my gate. Perfect timing. Our eyes met as he approached my house, and I pushed the window open. "Morning."
He paused, grinning at my disaster of bedhead hair. "Morning. Running today?"
I nodded, taking in his workout gear. "You coming along?"
"Sure," he said with that easy confidence of his.
After splashing water on my face and throwing on athletic clothes, we hit the neighborhood streets together.
A while later, we stopped at my gate, both breathing hard. Harold reached over and wiped sweat from my forehead. "Go shower and come eat. Made omelets today."
"Okay," I mumbled, keeping my eyes down as I hurried toward my door.
Damn it! First time running with Harold, and not only does he have incredible endurance, but how does he still look perfect after our long run?
Behind me, I could feel his stare, probably wearing that smug smile.
