He talked a big game, but he worshiped her mom and could never follow through on any derogatory statements about her, even as a joke—even though he did maintain she wasn’t perfect.
“Good, so I guess playing a game isn’t too much to ask?”
“Jessa Nicole.”
She knew she’d won when her dad used her first and middle name.
Figuring it was getting close to time to leave, she glanced over at the clock and gasped. She was late. “I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow after I see the doctor.”
“I can take you. I don’t mind.” He tried again.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Dad. I love you. Bye.”
“I love you, baby girl.”
The phone disconnected and she stood, downed the cocktail of prescriptions she’d be on for the rest of her life, rinsed out her cup, and grabbed her purse as she hustled out the door. As much as people liked to tease Jess because she was always late, it wasn’t intentional. She tried to be on time, but somehow it never quite worked out that way.
Take this morning. She’d gotten up on time and had been right on schedule until she sat down to have her second cup of coffee. A couple of phone calls later and she was fifteen minutes late.
Thankfully, she was her own boss as co-owner of The Mane Attraction, so the only person that could fire her was her business partner Amelia, who was very aware that she was punctually-challenged before they decided to take over the salon.
Technically, the salon was supposed to be open from ten to six, but she never scheduled a client before ten-thirty because, like Ali and her cooking, Jess was well aware of her shortcomings. Thankfully, Amelia, was punctual, organized, and had a head for numbers. They were the perfect pair.
Even though she was in a hurry, she paused after opening her front door and did a quick scan down both sides of the street. The coast was clear.
She hurriedly stepped onto her porch, then shut and locked the door behind her. She hightailed it to her car, making sure to keep her head down until a magnet force caused it to raise, and she saw the one person she’d hoped to avoid.
Ethan Steele in his basketball shorts, tennis shoes, and no shirt. He ran with the grace of a cheetah and the power of a lion. The sunlight shone down on him, highlighting the thin sheen of sweat that covered his shoulders and torso. He looked like he belonged at a Men’s Health cover shoot.
Jess cursed beneath her breath even as her mouth watered from the sight.
Damn. Now, she’d spend the rest of the day with visions of his muscular calves, rippled abs, and chiseled back popping up in her head like computer viruses.
He’d been running by her house several times a week for over a year now. And although she couldn’t prove it, she was sure that Ethan was orchestrating his morning workout to coincide with the time she left for work to mess with her.
The most frustrating part about that was, it was working.