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Yup. Intimate.
But not unpleasant. Not at all. It had been a long time since she’d run with another person, and she’d forgotten the pleasant camaraderie of it. The sound of their breath, the thump of their footsteps falling alongside yours. The comfort of another person who understood that running could be magic and not just hideous exercise.
It was over far too soon for her liking.
Without warning, Luke peeled off to the left, jogging up a slight incline toward a house—his house, she realized.
Jordan ordered her feet to keep running, but instead she stopped, watched as he made his way toward the back door.
The home was bigger than she’d expected, and newer. Not fancy, but modern and inviting, with plenty of windows facing the water, and a large deck that begged for sipping rosé on a warm summer evening.
Her feet began moving again, but not in the direction she’d intended. Before she could fully grasp the implications of what she was doing, Jordan followed Luke.
Chapter 13
The landscaping of Luke’s lakeside home was basic but intentional. There were no fussy flowers, no manicured lawn, but there was a relatively tidy path marked by gravel zigzagging up the small slope.
Her footsteps faltered a little at the sight of a wide two-person swing, nestled off to the side between two trees. It was an unexpected bit of whimsy for a man who was all beer, grunts, and stubbornness.
Probably the previous owner, she figured, turning and jogging up the last few steps.
He’d left the door open for her, and she rapped a knuckle lightly against the wood to announce herself before stepping inside.
Frantic barking greeted her.
Luke had a dog. A big one, judging from the sound of the bark.
“Winston,” he shouted irritably, a second before a golden retriever launched himself at Jordan.
Luke came into the doorway, looked at her as he tugged his hat off, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “You okay with dogs?”
“Definitely,” she said, bending to pet the very friendly Winston, whose tail was wagging in happy, soft swishes.
When Jordan glanced up, Luke had disappeared back into the kitchen, a white cat in his place.
She blinked. The big friendly dog she could see. The small white cat? Not so much.
“Hey there, pretty,” Jordan cooed, holding out one hand, as she continued to pet the dog with the other.
The cat gave Winston a disdainful look but made her way over to Jordan. At least, Jordan was guessing she was a girl. There was a haughtiness to the cat that seemed distinctly feminine.
“Aren’t you beautiful,” she said, as the cat rubbed her face against Jordan’s fingers.
Winston huffed as though dismayed to have competition. “You too,” she said, giving the dog a kiss on the head before standing, picking up the cat as she did so.
Jordan glanced around, didn’t see any sign of Luke’s shoes, but she kicked hers off just in case, because they were a bit muddy and his home was…
Lovely.
Again, not fussy, not fancy, but clean and well designed and lovely.
And masculine. Very, very masculine, from the enormous TV over the enormous fireplace, right down to the enormous leather sectional. There were no throw blankets or area rugs to soften the room, but the space worked.
The wood floors led to wood walls that led up to wood-beam ceilings. The fireplace was made of stone, the mantel holding exactly zero knickknacks.
Save for the Kindle on the coffee table and the TV, the house could have been built yesterday or fifty years ago.
The sound of a coffee grinder jarred her out of her snooping, and she headed toward the noise.
