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“Yes. That’s fine. Thank you.” Before she hung up, she added, “With Sloane?”

“Yes.”

A pause. “Tell her I said hello.”

“I will.”

The call ended.

I smiled the rest of the drive home.

Sloane was waiting outside her apartment building wearing a black sports bra, dark green leggings, and running shoes.

I forgot the plan for several seconds.

Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail. A lightweight jacket had been tied around her waist, leaving a strip of skin visible above the waistband of her leggings.

She carried a water bottle in one hand and studied my truck with concern when I didn’t immediately get out.

I recovered enough to open the door.

She walked toward the truck. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re staring.”

“I know.”

She looked down at herself. “I thought you said athletic clothes.”

“I did.”

“Is this inappropriate?”

“No.”

She smiled slyly. “You seem troubled.”

“I’m managing.”

“I could put the jacket on if that would help you recover.”

“That would not help.”

She laughed.

I walked around the truck and kissed her. The kiss lasted longer than a greeting required. When I finally pulled back, her cheeks had warmed.

“Hello to you too,” she said.

“Hi.”

She looked at my clothes. I wore a fitted gray shirt, running shorts, and trail shoes. Her gaze moved down and returned. “I see this problem works both ways.”

“What problem?” I asked.

“Visual distraction.”