His smile was still the same: slightly crooked and always lingering, lending a constant sense of mischief to his face. As he approached, he glanced in the direction of a siren and I caught the angle of his stubbly jaw, the length of smooth, tan neck that disappeared beneath the collar of his microfleece.

When he got to me, his smile widened. “Morning,” he said. “Thought it was you. I remember you used to pace like that when you were nervous about school or something. Drove your mom nuts.”

And without thinking, I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. I couldn’t remember ever being this close to Will before. He was warm and solid; I closed my eyes when I felt him press his face to the top of my head.

His deep voice seemed to vibrate through me: “It’s so good to see you.”

Secret Agent Hanna.

Reluctantly, I took a step back, inhaling the way the fresh air mixed with the clean scent of his soap. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Bright blue eyes looked down at me from beneath a black beanie, his dark hair tucked haphazardly beneath it. He stepped closer and placed something on my head. “Figured you’d need this.”

I reached up, feeling the thick wool cap. Wow, that was disarmingly charming. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll get to keep my ears after all.”

He grinned, stepping back as he looked me up and down. “You look . . . different, Ziggs.”

I laughed. “No one but my family has called me that in forever.”

His smile fell and he searched my face for a moment as if, were he lucky enough, my given name would be tattooed there. He’d only ever called me Ziggy, just like my siblings—Jensen, of course, but also Liv and Niels and Eric. Until I left home, I’d always just been Ziggy. “Well, what do your friends call you?”

“Hanna,” I said quietly.

He continued to stare. He stared at my neck, at my lips, and then took time to inspect my eyes. The energy between us was palpable . . . but, no. I had to be completely misreading the situation. This was precisely the danger of Will Sumner.

“So,” I started, raising my eyebrows. “Running.”

Will blinked, seemed to realize where we were. “Right.”

He nodded, reaching up to pull his hat down farther over his ears. He looked so different than I remembered—clean-cut and successful—but if I looked close enough, I could still see the faint marks where his earrings used to be.

“First,” he said, and I quickly pulled my attention back to his face. “I want you to watch out for black ice. They do a good job of keeping the trails clear but if you’re not paying attention you can really hurt yourself.”

“Okay.”

He pointed to the path winding around the frozen water. “This is the lower loop. It surrounds the reservoir and should be perfect because it only has a few inclines.”

“And you run this every day?”

Will’s eyes twinkled as he shook his head. “Not this one. This is only a mile and a half. Since you’re just starting out we’ll walk the first and last bit, running the mile in the middle.”

“Why don’t we just run your usual route?” I asked, not liking the idea of him slowing down or changing his routine for me.

“Because it’s six miles.”

“I can totally do that,” I said. Six miles didn’t seem like that many. It was just under thirty-two thousand feet. If I took big strides, that was only maybe sixteen thousand steps . . . I felt my mouth turn down at the corners as I fully considered this.

He patted my shoulder with exaggerated patience. “Of course you can. But let’s see how you do today and we’ll talk.”

And then? He winked.So apparently I wasn’t much of a runner.

“You do this every day?” I panted. I could feel a trickle of sweat run from my temple down my neck and didn’t even have the strength to reach up and wipe it away.

He nodded, looking like he was just out enjoying a brisk morning walk. I felt like I was going to die.

“How much farther?”

He looked over at me, wearing a smug—and delicious—grin. “Half a mile.”

Oh God.

I straightened and lifted my chin. I could do this. I was young and in . . . reasonably good shape. I stood almost all day, ran from room to room in the lab, and always took the stairs when I went home. I could totally do this.

“Good . . .” I said. My lungs seemed to have filled with cement and I could only take tiny, gasping breaths. “Feels great.”

“Not cold anymore?”