Running Back to You (The Running Series, #1) (5 page)

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Authors: Suzanne Sweeney

Tags: #romance, #beach, #football, #sports, #new jersey, #Humor, #fiction, #new adult, #contemporary, #coming of age

BOOK: Running Back to You (The Running Series, #1)
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“Looks like I don’t have much of a choice.  I’m kind of stuck here making
a fool of myself.”  I want to crawl up into a ball and close my eyes.  Maybe if
I do, he’ll be gone when I open them again.  Maybe I’m in so much pain, I’m
just hallucinating.

“Here, let me help you up.”  He walks over and kneels beside me in the
sand.  Now I can see his eyes clearly and they twinkle in the morning
sunlight.  They are a beautiful shade of blue that match the surf and sky. 
This is no hallucination.  Gently, he removes bits of sand from my hair.  When
he reaches over to brush the sand from my face and his skin makes contact with
mine, I jump ever so slightly. 

He looks confused all of a sudden.  His brows are knitted and he tilts
his head as if he’s trying to make sense of something.

“I should probably introduce myself.  My name is Evan.  I think we met
briefly yesterday, I’m not sure if you remember me, but I think your dog
does.”  Maddy is eagerly trying to work her nose under his arm so he would be
forced to pet her.  Yup, Maddy remembers him.  Wait ... he remembers meeting me? 
Not what I expected to hear him say.

“My name is Juliette, but you can call me Jette.  Thanks for coming to my
rescue, Evan.” 

“How about you let me bring you up to the house and we can get some ice
on that ankle?  It’s important to ice it right away to avoid swelling.  I’ve
got ice packs in the freezer.”  He motions to the huge beach house right in
front of us.  I wonder if he’s the owner, a renter, or a contractor. 
Unfortunately, he’s wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt, which reveal
nothing. 

Now, I don’t watch a lot of television cop shows, but I’ve seen enough
that I know better than to allow a strange man bring me to his house.  That
house is huge and who knows if there are any neighbors close enough to hear me
scream.  He doesn’t look like a serial killer, but none of them ever do.  He
senses my trepidation and offers, “You can sit right on the deck in plain
sight.  I promise I won’t throw you into a well or anything.”

I give a silent nod of acquiescence and before I can change my mind, he
lifts me into his arms and starts walking to the beach house.  He lifts me like
I’m as light as air and instinctively I wrap my arms around his neck.  I can’t
help but inhale his scent.  It’s a heady mix of body wash and testosterone.  A
slight shiver overtakes my body.

“Are you okay?  Does it hurt a lot?” he asks with great concern.  Despite
his size, he’s remarkably gentle and charming.

“No, it’s not too bad.  I’m just slightly mortified.”  I am truly feeling
humiliated.

“Do I smell peppermint?”  He asks as he carries me towards the house.

“Yeah, it’s my shampoo.  Does it smell bad?”  I grab my ponytail and take
a whiff of my hair.  I don’t smell anything offending.

“No, definitely not bad.”  He mumbles something under his breath that I
don’t quite catch.  I have to remind myself to breathe.  We’re almost there.

There’s a path and a set of stairs that lead to the outdoor deck
resplendent with a lounge area, a shaded cabana, a fire pit, and an outdoor
shower.  Gingerly, he places me on one of the sofas in the cabana and excuses
himself to get an icepack. 

I take in my new surroundings and I’m quite impressed.  There’s ample
furniture in a sleek, modern style that has a nautical feel.  The cabana has a
canvas roof so I’m protected from the sun, which is good because I don’t think
I’ll be able to walk right away.

In the blink of an eye, he’s back with ice for my ankle along with a
compression wrap.  He’s also carrying a pillow, and what appears to be a bottle
of ibuprofen.  “Okay, first, we need to take your sneaker off so I can get a
better look at that ankle.”  Pulling up an ottoman, he straddles it directly in
front of me.  Then, gently, he lifts the offending foot and places in his lap. 
Carefully, he removes my sneaker and touches the ankle.  Satisfied that there
isn’t a bruise or a bone sticking out, he asks me to rotate my ankle.  I follow
directions diligently and point my toes like a ballerina, indicating north,
south, east and west with my big toe.

“Great, it looks like a slight sprain.  We’re going to ice it for fifteen-minute
intervals and you’re going to stay off it for an hour or two.  You have
anywhere you need to be for the next few hours?”  He’s looking directly at me
trying to gauge my reaction.

“Are you a doctor or something?  You seem to know an awful lot about
ankle sprains.”  I avoid answering his question about staying for an extended
period of time.

“No.  I’m definitely not a doctor, but I do know a lot about sports
injuries.  I’ve sprained my ankle more times than I can count.  Trust me, you
need to keep it iced and keep the swelling down or you’re going to injure it
further.”  While we’re talking, he finishes wrapping my ankle, and now he’s
folding a pillow in half on the end of my sofa lounger.  “And keep it elevated.
 We need to minimize the blood flow to restrict the swelling.”  He sure sounds
like he knows what he’s talking about.

There are two angels on my shoulders.  One is screaming at me to run and
get out of there as soon as possible.  She’s telling me that I don’t know this
man and that he shouldn’t be blindly trusted.  Perhaps he has reasons for
wanting to keep me here that aren’t honorable.  He’s more than attractive, he’s
beautiful.  That means he’s most likely a player who knows how to deliver a
line to land a girl directly into his bed.  I have no intention of becoming
another notch on his bedpost. 

The second angel is telling me that fate has brought us together three
times and if I don’t stay to find out why, fate will continue to put him in my
path.  She’s also reminding me that I feel a strong attraction to him.  Then,
the final straw: she shows me my distrustful dog curled in a ball right by his
feet.  Animals have instincts about the intention of humans, and Maddy seems to
be completely at ease with Evan’s intentions.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”  At that moment, he has a look of satisfaction on his
face.  Is he pleased with himself or pleased that I’m staying?  I guess only
time will tell.  Before I can say any more, his phone rings.

“Excuse me, Juliette, but I have to take this.”  Evan steps a few feet
away, but I can hear every word he says.  “Hey, Adam – wassup ... no, I can’t
right now ... sorry, I have company ... no, you don’t know her ... listen, I ... I
don’t need to be reminded ... but ... okay, okay ... yeah, I’ll call you later.” 
That was a strange conversation and I don’t quite know what to make of it.

He comes back and sits on one of the deck chairs beside me.  Leaning back
and putting his hands behind his head he asks, “So, now that I have you here,
what should I do with you?” There’s a devilish grin on his face. 

I hand him my empty water bottle and retort, “Well, you can start by
getting me something cold to drink.  And maybe a bowl of water for Maddy, if
it’s not too much trouble.”

“Absolutely.  Be right back.”  He leaves to go back inside and I take
advantage of the moment to send Auggie a quick text.

Jette:  not coming home for a while

Auggie:  y r u ok?

Jette:  yeah, I met someone and im gonna hang here for
a while

Auggie:  spill

Jette:  not now gtg

Music starts playing on the deck.  It doesn’t take me long to recognize
the lyrics.  Evan comes out with three bottles of water and a mixing bowl. 
“Here you go, girl,” he speaks to Maddy as he empties the contents of a bottle
into the bowl for her.

“You like Stone Temple Pilots?” I ask him.

“Love ‘em.  Even saw them once in Houston.  They’re great.”

“I know.  Two of them grew up here in town.  I saw them in Colorado at
the Red Rocks Amphitheatre.  Awesome show.”  So it seems we have more than just
jogging in common. 

Wanting to know a little bit more about him, I press on.  “I don’t mean
to pry, but I was just wondering ... do you live here?  I mean, is this your
house?  Is there anyone who might walk in and have a problem with me sitting
here right now?  A wife?  Girlfriend?  Boyfriend?”

He chokes on his water and spits it out.  I guess he’s never been asked
that before.

“Wow, you get right to it, don’t you?  No, Juliette, I live here alone,
most of the time, anyway.”  Another cryptic response that I’ll leave alone for
the time being.

He hands me a fresh bottle of water. 

“How about you?  Anyone special in your life right now?”  He folds his
hands in his lap and I can’t help but notice they’re the exact type of hands I
love: large, strong, and manly. 

“No.  It’s just Maddy and me against the world.  She watches my back and
I scratch hers.”  It’s my lame attempt at humor.  Absentmindedly, I start
twirling my fingers through my ponytail.

He has a one-word response, “Interesting.”  I’m perplexed. 

I attempt to change the subject, “I think it’s time to take off the ice. 
Didn’t you say fifteen-minutes on and fifteen-minutes off?”

Evan checks his watch and agrees, “Yeah, let me check it.  I want to make
sure it’s not swelling up.”  He tenderly removes the compression bandage and
the ice.  When his hand makes contact with my skin, something inside me awakens
and I have to catch my breath.

He quickly removes his hand from my leg and walks away from me, over to
the banister, gazing at the beach as the waves break on the shore.  His back is
to me and I take the opportunity to admire his physique without fear of being
caught.  His biceps are impressive.  I can see them contract as he grasps the
deck railing.  I wonder why he pulled away like that.

“Hey, Evan, can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure, shoot.”

“Well, do you really own this place?  It’s truly impressive.  I’ve lived
here all my life and I’ve never met anyone who lives in one of these homes. 
How can someone so young afford a place like this?  I mean, I can barely make
my rent and here you are in this huge beach house.” 

There’s a moment of silence, like he’s considering my question and
measuring his response.  He’s still not looking at me.

“I’ve bought and sold a few houses over the past several years.  Each one
gave me a small profit, which I used to purchase the next one.  My last house
was in Houston and I flipped it for a very nice profit.”

“So, are you planning on selling this one soon?  It looks like it’s
almost done.”  I’m hoping he says no.

“I haven’t decided yet.  I’m starting to like it here.  It looks
promising.”  He turns and stares right at me, “Very promising.”

A grin spreads across my face and I think I begin to blush a little. 

“Houston, huh?  What did you do there?  Was house flipping your full-time
job?”  He’s being a little cagey with his responses and I’d like to know more.

“No, I had a job.  I mean, I have a job.  I work for the NFL.  Last year,
I was working with the Houston Texans and a ... uhh ... an ... opportunity ... became
available to work with the New Jersey Sentinels, so here I am.” 

“Wow, the NFL.  What do you do?”  I’m thinking that with his knowledge of
sports injuries, maybe he’s a trainer or an assistant coach. 

He shrugs, “The team starts training in July.  That’s when I’ll start.  I
have to be there during all the training and practice sessions.”  No wonder he
knows so much about sports injuries and is in top physical form.  He gets paid
to work with athletes.  Everything is starting to make sense.  “Enough about
me, tell me something about you.”

I just shake my head, “Not much to tell.  I graduated with a degree in
Baking & Pastry Arts from Johnson & Wales University in Denver.  I just
started tending bar at Wilkinson’s on the boardwalk.  It’s just temporary until
I can find a job in a bakery, or until I open my own, whichever comes first.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Again, I shake my head, “Nope, none.  Only child.  You?”

“Yeah, I have an older sister, Caroline.  We call her Callie.  She’s
married and lives in Cedar Grove.  That’s where I grew up.  My parents still
live there, too.”

“It must be nice to be nearer to your family.  Are you and your sister
close?”

“Kind of.  She’s a few years older than me.  She and her husband have a
young daughter named Regan, and they own a flower shop.  My sister’s the florist
and her husband, Dean, is an accountant and a jack-of-all-trades.  Callie is
all hands-on and Dean takes care of the business part of it.”

I shift a little uncomfortably in my seat.  I’ve been sitting in the same
position for a little while now and I think my feet are falling asleep.

Evan notices my discomfort and asks if I’m okay.

“I just need to stretch my legs.  They’re cramping up a little.”  I turn
to swing my legs off the side of the sofa. 

“You have to keep your leg elevated.  How about a change of scenery? 
Want to come inside for a little while?”

After doing a few quick calculations in my head, I think Evan’s proven
himself to be trustworthy enough. “Sure.  One thing, though, how will I get in
the house and keep my leg elevated at the same time?”

“With a little assistance.”  He saunters directly over to me and hovers. 
Our eyes connect, but this time, neither one of us breaks the connection.  He’s
waiting for my permission.  I nod.

“Up we go!” and just like that, I’m back in his strong arms.  Just inside
the door is a sitting room with a fireplace and a huge television.  I’m placed
on one of a pair of leather couches.  The walls are white-washed beadboard with
exposed beams on the ceiling.  “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”  He hurries out
the door and returns with our water bottles and my pillow.  Once I’m
satisfactorily settled on his couch, he smiles and shows his beautiful white
teeth.  “I have an idea.”

I watch as Evan steps out of the room and I hear him rummaging through a
closet.  He reappears holding two guitars.  “Wanna play?”

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