Chapter Twenty–Four
Sunday You’re In Love
Jordan woke up the next morning with Charlotte snuggled up against him.
“Hey, wake up.”
She squirmed. “No.”
“Come on, let’s go for a run.”
She opened one eye. “Really? Out there in the cold?”
“Sure. It’s not cold if you are running.”
She put her head under the pillow.
He took it away. “Unless you are too wimpy to go running with me.”
She shot him a look. “Seriously?”
He grinned. “Not sure you can keep up.”
“Give me three minutes.”
“Two.”
She rolled out of bed and threw on a tight tank top, sadly covered by faded old sweat shirt and some baggy sweat pants. They certainly didn’t match his hopeful mental image of her in skin-tight latex. She looked... well, a bit like Rocky Balboa, if he was honest. She looked fearless, ready to take on the world. He crossed the room in two sure strides and pulled her to his chest. “You are beautiful. I could eat you alive.” He nibbled on her ear lobe to prove his point.
Her warm and curvy body squirmed against him in ways that made him want to forget all about his morning run. Instead, he should throw her on the bed and take off those ratty old clothes that she’d brought with her to Haven for some unknown reason and touch every inch of her body again.
“Unhand me, you brute,” she said, laughing. “I’m trying to get my shoes on.”
“We could try a different kind of work-out...”
“You still think I wouldn’t be able to keep up.” She glared at him. “You can at least give me a chance to prove myself.”
“OK, OK.” He let go, one finger trailing reluctantly along her arm as she turned and grabbed her running shoes.
She bent over to tie them up and then turned and grinned at him. “HUP two three four!” She shoved him out the door. Which was a good thing, if he was honest, because he was on the verge of tossing her into the bed and pinning her beneath him until breakfast time.
They’d only gone a few blocks when he took pity on her. Her form was well, nonexistent, and she was pink in the face and panting. “Are you alright? We can take it easy.”
“I’m fine. Tell me about the people coming tonight,” she said.
He grinned. She wasn’t making conversation, she was trying to slow him down and distract him, he was pretty sure. But if it gave him an excuse to keep running with her, he’d talk.
“Well, next to us, there’s the Millers. They’ve been around since I can remember. He’s made his money in pharmaceuticals.” He gave her a rundown of the families in every house as they ran past, who they were, what the gossip was.
She was clearly struggling to keep up, but she kept nodding and smiling. She wasn’t going to be the first to say they had to stop. He kept his pace slow—he could sprint another day, when he was on his own—and acted like this was his standard run.
Even so, about halfway round she stopped laughing at his stories and started staring straight in front of her, as if willing herself to keep going.
As they ran up to the playground, he steered her towards the drinking fountain. Half of him wanted to call it off, tell her that she didn’t have to keep going, they could walk home. But he knew she’d be unhappy that she couldn’t keep up. To his relief, he saw Mrs. Butrey walking Bitsy, her hyperactive Pekinese. “I’m really sorry,” he said to Charlotte, “but I’ve not seen her in ages. I need to run over and say hello. Do you mind waiting for just a minute?”
She waved him on, heading for the fountain. “Feel free, its fine.” She held herself up on the edge. “I just need to stretch a minute,” she half-said, half-gasped.
He grinned and jogged over to Mrs. Butrey, who exclaimed with delight and gave him a big hug. “Who is this young lady, Jordan? You seem to be trying to kill her,” she said, looking over at poor Charlotte still trying to catch her breath. Bitsy licked his running shoes and then made a face and sneezed.
“She thought she could keep up with me,” he whispered. “Keep talking, I’m trying to give her a chance to recover.” Charlotte tried to sip daintily from the water fountain and then appeared to give up and started splashing water all over her face.
“She sure looks like she’d give you a run for your money,” grinned Mrs. Butrey. “Don’t you run her feet off of her, you hear? She looks a lot better for you than those glossy girls you usually go out with.”
“Well, I never,” he said, pretending to be offended. Mrs. Butrey had a reputation as being rude but he knew it was just that she spoke her mind. She didn’t have much time for dressing things up. “Anyway, you haven’t even spoken to her.”
“She’s put on clothes for exercising in, not for showing off in. She’s run as hard as she possibly could, rather than trying to make sure her hair and makeup are ok. That’s the kind of woman who will get the job done, not buckle under pressure. Much like you in those big offices of yours.” She tapped his chest. “That’s the kind of partner you need, young man. Not some pretty hot house flower who will wilt in the first rainfall.”
“Are you saying poor Charlotte isn’t pretty? Hey, Charlotte, come here!”
“Don’t you be starting trouble, you aren’t so big that I can’t... well, yes, you are that big.” Mrs. Butrey’s eyes were twinkling. “You’re a good boy, Jordan. Don’t let anyone tell you any different. Especially not George. He wouldn’t know good if it bit him on the nose. Tell him I said hello, will you?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Butrey. I will.”
He jogged back to Charlotte who was taking one last drink from the fountain. “That was Mrs. Butrey. She was my third-grade teacher, before I went to boarding school. She was already tough as nails then. No one got away with anything in her class. Half the town isn’t speaking to her because she refuses to age gracefully. They think she should knit socks and attend flower arranging classes.”
“But she stays here anyway?”
He shrugged. “Yes, that’s Mrs. Butrey all over. Stubborn as a mule. Anyway, I’m sorry for holding things up.” He looked her over. Her chest wasn’t heaving anymore and her face had lost most of the pink. He wanted to lick the sweat off of her neck.
“C’mon, let’s head back.” He ran off, embarrassed that he couldn’t actually look at her without wanting to ravish her. It was like being sixteen again.
She caught up. “You are getting slower. Feeling it a bit?” And with that, she jogged past him. He upped his speed to catch up.
“If it’s too much for you, just say!”
“Oh, don’t you even.” They raced for the homestretch, laughing and calling each other names. As they came up to the house, she collapsed on the lawn. “I am completely finished.”
“You are completely adorable,” he said, stretching out on the grass next to her. She blushed. He took her face in his hands and turned her face towards him. “It’s true. I totally adore you.” And then he kissed her before he could say anything else stupid.