Page 12 of Duty

It ended up helping.

She didn’t need to dance now, though. Or at least, she didn’t dance on a regular basis like she used to. There wasn’t much need, frankly.

Bending over at the mouth of the running trail that connected with a main trail, Haven huffed hard as she tried to catch her breath. This was her turning point in her runs—the same place every day where she turned around, and headed back home at full speed.

Usually, she only rested long enough to take a drink of water if she hadn’t already finished the bottle, catch her breath, and then she hit the ground running again. Today was a little different, though.

Today, she waited a bit longer than usual.

Took a seat on a bench.

Waited …

Two weeks ago, in this very spot, she’d seen a handsome, dark-haired, green-eyed man with shoulders so expansive and wide, he looked as though he could play football. Haven was tall at five-foot, eleven-inches, but this man had been well over six feet. And yet, in his three-piece suit, he’d looked more like he would be appropriately dressed to sit behind a large desk inside an office rather than walking on a trail with a pit bull.

A ringing call had interrupted their encounter; his phone, not hers. It hadn’t much mattered because Haven was already running a bit late, and made a commitment to pick up her friend’s daughter from school since Valeria wouldn’t be able to do it.

So, she didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.

Or … even ask the gorgeous man’s name.

That bugged her.

She wanted to know his name.

And each day since, Haven had jogged at the same time every day—if she could manage it because sometimes she couldn’t—just to see if the strange man would be back again to walk his dog on the trails. He’d made it sound like he walked his dog quite frequently, so Haven thought … maybe.

This time, maybe didn’t work out.

Like every other day for the past two weeks.

Sighing, Haven pushed up from the bench, did a quick stretch of her burning calves in hopes they wouldn’t ache too badly when she slipped into bed later, and turned to head down the trail again. It usually took her a little longer to get back home than it did to run to her turn around point simply because she was winded, and tired.

Today, she made it with three minutes to spare on her stopwatch.

Damn.

Taking the steps to her bungalow’s painted-red front door slowly, Haven took in the small potted plant Valeria had placed next to the welcome mat. Her place wasn’t big—two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, living room, and a small back porch to sit on during hot summer days. It wasn’t much to look at compared to some of the places on the block what with its red door, and beige siding. It didn’t turn heads.

And she didn’t care.

She paid for this house.

She earned it.

It was hers.

Haven loved it for no other reason than that.

Well, and something else, too.

Unlocking the front door, Haven opened it and stepped into the house to find Maria—her roommate and best friend’s five-year-old daughter—hadn’t bothered to pick up any of her toys in the hallway before she’d left for kindergarten that morning.

It made Haven smile.

For the year that Valeria and little Maria had been living with her, nothing was ever dull. Someone was always waking her up, or making a mess to clean. Her house was never quiet anymore, but she liked it that way.

They—and the strip club—kept her busy.