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“Did you have a nice run?”
His chest rises and falls a little faster than usual, but he doesn’t seem too out of breath. If I ran from here to my mailbox my lungs would beburning.
“Running isn’t nice.”
I laugh at his blunt statement. “Don’t people get some sort of runner’s high?”
“Endorphins rise, sure. But it’s mostly miserable. Cold in the winter and hot any other time of the year.”
“So why do you do it?”
He pauses, his blue eyes considering me. “To clear my head. My job can be stressful.”
To most people, that sounds like a vague statement, but I know the admission means more than that to Adrian. He’s essentially confessed a weakness to me, which means on some level he trusts me. His mind probably has fifty levels of security clearance and I was just given a level two pass. But I’m going to cherish my pass because I have a feeling most people don’t make it this far.
“When I get stressed I take a bubble bath and drink chamomile tea, much nicer than running.”
Is it my imagination or is that heat in his eyes? It occurs to me that I just talked about taking abathin front of Adrian. A blush heats my face.
“I might have to try that.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
Adrian raises a brow at my statement.
Somebody tape my mouth shut. Or hit me over the head with a shovel. Something,anything, to get me to stop talking.
“I-I didn’t mean it like that!” I stammer out in a rush.
“I know you didn’t,” he says, sounding like he’s stifling a laugh. “I have to go get ready for work. I’ll see you tomorrow at the café?”
I sit up a little taller, hope rising within me. He’s planning on me being there tomorrow. Does that mean he’s looking forward to it? Adrian isn’t a man of empty pleasantries, so I can’t imagine he’s asking to be polite.
“I’ll be there,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. Between the bubble bath comment and this, my heart is going to jump out of my chest.
“Good.” He taps the railing of my deck and then crosses the patch of grass between our houses.
I sit in my nest of blankets, limply grasping the handle of my teacup, staring after him. Maybe there’s something between me and Adrian after all. A frown pushes my lips down. Why couldn’t we have had this conversationlastweek?
Chapter ten
Juliette Monroe
“Juliette?”Aguywithsandy blond hair and tan skin asks me.
“Kyle?” I ask and he nods with a smile.
“Wow, you’re even prettier in person,” he says and I duck my head, blushing.
“Thank you, that’s sweet of you to say.”
When I lift my head to meet his brown eyes I’m surprised to see his smile tighter than before. His gaze has hardened too. Did I say something wrong? I shake off the feeling and gesture to the diner door.
“Are you ready to go inside?” I ask and he nods, his face softening into an easygoing grin.
He opens the door for me and I mark a tally in the pro column. We sit down in one of the worn peach-colored booths. One of my favorite waitresses, Paulette, walks up to our table almost immediately.
“What can I get you two to drink?”
