Running Into Candee

Chad sees Candee running down the trail and chases after her with a grin. Then her left thigh cramps and she yelps, grabbing at the muscle. They hobble to the nearest picnic table and she drops onto the bench, swearing under her breath. Chad kneels between her knees, says he’s good at this, and starts kneading the tight spot. One hand slides lower, rubbing her calf, and next thing his thumbs are working her bare feet while she wiggles her toes in thanks. Candee peels her tank top off, the sun on her nipples, and Chad forgets everything except the curve of her. They hook up right there on the open table—sweaty, bare, banging like they own the damn park—for a full thirty minutes.