“I’m not stalking you. I work here,” I grumbled.
“Me too,” he replied brightly. “We have so much in common.”
“You worknearby.Temporarily. It’s not the same.”
“Ah.” He sucked in another fast breath. “You’re a stickler. I might have known.”
I fought the urge to up my pace and leave this joker in the dust. Maybe that was why I wasn’t intimidated by his size or presence. He was bigger and stronger, sure. But I could easily outrun him.
Instead of hightailing it out of there, I found myself saying, “You know, it might be easier to breathe if you weren’t constantly talking.”
As if on cue, his grin went supernova. Straight white teeth practically blinded me. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. “I like to yap. I am a certified yapper.”
“Great,” I replied flatly.
Ian chuckled again.
After a few blessed minutes of silence, the only sounds the scuff of our sneakers, morning birdcall, and his labored breathing, Ian spoke up. “I was actually wondering if you wouldn’t mind having a running partner. I’d liketo work some cardio into my routine while I’m here, and get better at this. You obviously know what you’re doing. I’m a fast learner, and I can try to keep my yapping to a minimum.”
“You want to run with me?”
“Well, sure,” he said, like it was obvious.
But I wasn’t getting it.
“Why?” I asked, incredulously. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet, at least.”
I watched his face for a moment, trying to make sense of his request. A bead of sweat made its way down his temple and cheek before dripping off that blade of a jawline. This guy was young—had to be in his twenties. He was objectively attractive. Was he a serial killer? A cult leader? Or worse, trying to sell me supplements?
I didn’t trust what I couldn’t understand, and the motivations of this outsider were a total mystery to me.
“You training for a 5K or something?”
“Nah,” he said, then quickly corrected, “I don’t know, maybe? Y’all have a Turkey Trot? I could probably give that a try in a couple of weeks.”
Kirby Falls did indeed have a Thanksgiving Day 5K. I didn’t think you could claim small-town Hallmark status without one.
“You want me to train you for the Turkey Trot?” I sought to clarify.
“Yes, that would be great.” Christ, he was still smiling. Did his cheek muscles ache? Mine did, just from looking at him.
Would he keep showing up to pester me if I didn’t agree to this? I didn’t have a problem telling someone to fuck off. But this guy seemed so earnest and friendly. It was a little like kicking a puppy, and I’d been pretty rude to him already.
I thought briefly about my vow to be more welcoming to Candace—to be better, in general. I didn’t hate that this guy had a goal he was striving for. And as I listened to him wheeze and struggle, I realized I could actuallyhelp him. Running was something I enjoyed. I’d been doing it regularly since high school.
I sighed. “Fine. Two days a week.”
“How about three? I’m in terrible shape.”
My eyes dipped to his muscular chest, then down to where his black pullover hid a flat stomach that I’d bet my favorite forklift contained six-pack abs. When I wrangled control of my wayward gaze, I found Ian wearing an annoyingly pleased expression.
I rolled my eyes and faced forward once more. My parents’ house was just coming into view. The white, two-story farmhouse emerged from the fog slowly, so familiar that my feet could find their way with my eyes closed.
“Fine,” I repeated. “I’ll meet you at the gate to the orchard in the morning. Six a.m. Don’t be late.”
“Bright and early. I can’t wait.”
