Eleven
The next day, Sarah ran her usual route back from town, her water bottle strapped to the runner’s belt around her waist, and her headphones plugged in. She rounded a corner into Compton Drive and let her usual exercise-induced daydreams take over. Sweet nothings filled her brain. Well, nothing but her running playlist and her feet pounding the pavement in time with the music. All until something hard nudged her shoulder, and she jolted, nearly tripping over.
“Hey! What gives?” She ripped her headphones out and glared to her left, almost tripping once again at the giant schmuck smiling beside her.
She stopped, instantly regretting the choice once it filtered through to her that the schmuck in question was Dean.
I should keep running. Just keep running!
So, she jammed her headphones back in and picked up pace again.
Except her music wasn’t enough to drown out his heavy footfall on the sidewalk behind her or the muffled sound of him calling, “Mind if I join you?”
His longer stride made catching up to her easy, and she gritted her teeth, ignoring him. Not only did he have a frustrating habit of popping up just to bother her, but now he wanted to intrude on the one activity that brought her peace?
She peered down at his black sneakers and dark blue running shorts. He’d seen her running yesterday and planned on this ambush today. “Do I have a choice? You’re already joining me.” She pulled one headphone out to the heightened sound of his hard breaths.
“You always have a choice.”
She stopped running and planted her hands on her hips, trying to hold herself perfectly upright despite her own panting. “So you’re not following me, then?”
He stopped too and shrugged. “Fine, I did follow you, but only today. Those other times we met you came across me.”
She scoffed, ignoring the rush of blood that came with realizing he’d plotted to meet her, much less how she didn’t completely hate the idea. “So, it’s my fault you hover in the same places I frequent?”
One corner of his lip quirked, and his shoulders relaxed some. “I’m not hovering. You approached me back at the bar. And at the grocery store, I was there first, remember? And let’s also not forget you’re the one who merrily face-planted into me at the soiree.”
She drummed her fingers on her hip and struggled for purchase over her argument.
He said he was leaving, and then he didn’t. He also never promised to leave Ally alone…
Exactly. Besides all that, she had her own mess to deal with, her parent’s disastrous marriage setting the tone for her own broken engagement, and the oh-so-justified vow to stay single forever… “So, there’s nothing behind those suggestive looks you keep giving me?”
His dangerously full lips spread wider into another suggestive look. One that made her want to sigh with the memory of just how sexy this man could be, whilst wanting to resume her run just so she could leave him in her dust.
“I never said that. There’s definitely something behind those.”
Her heart squeezed. “What about all your double meanings? Like yesterday when you told Maureen about my personal approach to welcoming you?”
His chest trembled a little, like he held onto a genuine laugh, but then he stepped a little closer, and for a moment there, she lost her breath. “Sure, those too. But I’m more than happy to stop suggesting and outright tell you what I want.”
“Oh, no. No. No. No.” She turned on her heel, his proximity and honesty too much and maybe a touch too tempting.
He lied. He lied. And even if he didn’t, he will, or he’ll do something to hurt me…
Her muscles ached, therefore making her steps rigid. Doubt tugged her in the opposite direction, her mind still caught on him, even as she ran away.
She’d promised herself one night with this man. That’s it. Anything more would inadvertently plunge her into what she’d promised she’d do anything to avoid. Another relationship. Or at least, another chance at being humiliated. At having her heart broken.
What’s wrong with being alone? I like being alone. Why is loneliness something everyone in this town always wants to fix?
A heavy hand grabbed her arm and spun her around. Dean’s stare scanned her face, his lids narrowed, and his brow flexed in an analytical scowl. “You weren’t so abrasive with me that first night, and I know you’re not like this with everyone else in Harlow. What’s changed?”
“I’m not—” The burgeoning lie died on her tongue. In truth, he was at least a little bit right.
“You’re different.” His voice hushed, somehow lending an uncanny intimacy to what was a roadside talk in broad daylight. “Colder.”
She moved to shake him off, but his hand didn’t budge. “I don’t know what you mean.”