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“Oh, come on. I’ve seen you running in the gym. Ditch the dreadmill and try jogging on the beach.”
“I don’t like running in the humidity.”
“Nobody does!” she said with a big, cheerful grin. “That’s the point. You’ll get a good sweat and get some endorphins flowing. It’ll help you sleep better.”
I gave a start. “How’d you know I’ve been sleeping poorly?”
“I didn’t.” She pointed. “But that’s your third cup of coffee when usually you only have a single cup before switching to tea. So I’m assuming.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a stalker,” I teased.
She skipped toward me. “I feel like I know every one of your little daily routines. Come for a run with me. Then you can have a yogurt with exactly one ounce of honey added on top, and a protein bar.”
“Am I really that predictable?” I asked.
She tapped me on the chest with a finger. “You sure are. Come on. We’ll stay on the beach, away from the tarantulas.”
I watched her beautiful form sashay back inside to change.
Two weeks, I thought. If she decides to stay. I think I can survive that.
But as I followed her inside, inhaling deeply from her flowery scent, I knew I had no idea how things would go.
22
Melinda
As soon as Pierce was gone, it felt like there was a hole in my stomach. I had grown fond of him, especially in the past week where our relationship had really accelerated in the bedroom. It was now overwhelmingly clear that despite my best efforts, I was catching feelings for him. I spent much of that day wondering if he felt the same, or if I truly was just a surrogate to him.
But it was easier since I wasn’t alone. Andrew was here with me. We had one thing in common: without Pierce here, we weren’t quite sure what to do with ourselves. Our presence on this island was due solely to Pierce Benning’s whim, and with him gone, we felt rudderless.
At least we could be rudderless together.
Now that a few days had passed since the sex dream, I was totally comfortable around Andrew. I could be myself. I invited him on a jog—bullied him into it, really. He met me down by the dock wearing Hokas, running shorts, and a Dri-fit tank top.
“Ready?” I asked him.
“Probably not. But I’m here anyway.”
I flashed him a smile and started my watch. “I’ll go slow for you.”
Slow for me meant the nine-minute mile pace that I had been keeping with Pierce. A few minutes into our jog, it quickly became clear that Andrew couldn’t keep up with that.
“Is the heat getting to you?” I asked, twisting to look back at him.
His eyes flicked up to my face. “The heat. And the humidity.”
He was definitely staring at my ass. I felt a weird mix of flattery, awkwardness, and excitement. But I wasn’t surprised. Out of five or six running outfits that had been brought here from my apartment, I was wearing a pair of skin-tight booty shorts. The ones I wore when I ran with my running club and wanted to look my best.
“You’ll get used to it,” I said, slowing down. “Here. I’ll dial back the pace a little.”
Andrew was drenched in sweat, but he was able to keep up with me from that point on. We jogged two miles up the beach, then turned around and jogged back. When we reached the dock, he practically collapsed onto the wood steps.
“That sucked,” he said, pulling a Gatorade from the cooler. “But I’m glad you forced me into it. Running on the beach is hard, but it’s still better than a treadmill.”
“See? That’s why I call it the dreadmill. A mile on that feels like five miles on the beach. Also, I didn’t force you to do anything.”
He grimaced at me. “Sure you didn’t.”
