AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Usually, we spent our runs either teasing each other, Row’s way of making sure I wasn’t inside my own head or replaying my flashbacks with Allison. Maybe it was because Row looked pissed off or maybe it was because Dad was somewhere beautiful right now, floating in the wind, being the freest he’d ever been, but for some reason, I didn’t concentrate on the running or my trauma when we started making our way down my street. We jogged lightly, minding the slippery sidewalk with the leftover melted snow.
Row brought me up to speed about what had happened to his restaurant as our feet pounded the pavement. I didn’t know what part annoyed me more—the way people in this town were treating him or how callous Sheriff Menchin was about it.
“I’m not even sure how long Descartes will be closed. We have media appearances booked, food critics scheduled, a whole farewell party… This was supposed to be a fucking celebration. Not a hastily closed business,” he grumped.
“It’ll be open for the last week before Christmas,” I heard myself say. God knew who had given me the authority or knowledge to make such a prediction. “You’ll close it with a bang, and it will be legendary.”
We made it to downtown before I even realized I had run all that way. Something compelled me to announce, “Come on, coffee on me at Dahlia’s Diner.”
He used the hem of his hoodie to wipe the sweat off his forehead, revealing a freakishly defined six-pack. Or was it an eight-pack? I was usually good at math, but not when my entire blood flow rushed to my vagina.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Don’t feel like another horror show.”
“Don’t let them win,” I chided.
“I’m about to bulldoze over their town to get cut a nice check. I’m the one who is winning. Don’t see a point in rubbing it in their faces, though.”
“Fine. Wait here.” I marched into the diner, returning after a few minutes with two steaming cups of coffee and a box full of pastries. I led him to a bench overlooking the harbor and flipped the box open. He reached for a custard-filled donut. I slapped his hand away. “You’re going to have to earn your food, mister.”
“Sexual favors?” His gaze swung to mine, one eyebrow quirked up. “You did say we’re inevitable.”
“Ugh. You and your one-track mind.” I shook my head. “I’m going to ask questions, you’re going to answer them. Question number one: Why are you helping me run?”
“Because I like you despite my better judgment. Next question.”
I was somewhere between deliriously flattered and completely crushed. “Well, nothing can happen between us.”
“Why?”
Because I like you, too, and I can’t put my heart on the line. I have been hurt before. I cannot afford another public demise.
“Because of Dylan.” This wasn’t a lie. This was my first reason. I still wasn’t positive she’d be cool with us. My idiot heart came a close second. “Question number two: Why didn’t you tell me you were going to London?” I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice. I had been off the entire drive to Moxie Falls, after Dylan had casually mentioned Row was away when I’d visited her to drop off more secret cupcakes.
Row looked puzzled. “Didn’t think you’d give a shit.”
“I do. I am. I…I care,” I admitted chokingly. “It’s also basic courtesy.”
“Duly noted. I’ll work on my manners. Anything else?” he asked, patiently impatient, eyeing the donut.
“What are you going to do about your stalker?”
“Kill them, once I catch them.”
“Be seri—”
“Nope. Earned at least one pastry.” He snuck his hand into the box and grabbed a donut, taking a big bite. He grinned at me, his straight, white teeth covered in green and red Christmas sprinkles. “You were saying?”
The green reminded me of something. “Did you ever send me a broccoli cake for my birthday?”
“No.” His cheekbones pinkened, and he dropped the donut back into the box.
“Row.”
“It was the culinary challenge, okay?” He trained his gaze on the ships anchored by the harbor, releasing a quick breath. “I was in New York for a conference and remembered your stupid birthday wish. Marcus, the executive chef of the restaurant you worked for, is an old friend. He told me you’d have a shift.”
“Dude, it was actually delicious. Do you have, like, a secret sauce?”
His eyes traveled down to his groin, and I laughed, pushing his muscular arm playfully. Row grabbed another pastry, shoving it past his lips. “My turn to ask questions—why red?” Sugar-powdered fingertips reached to tuck a tendril of my flame-hued hair behind my ear.
