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“Tabon invited him to dinner.”
Great. Just great. Unless she wanted to hide out, she was going to be forced to spend time with him.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m going for a run. I’ll come over later.”
Ava kissed her cheek and then walked to the front door. “Can I ask a favor?”
“What?”
“If I bring Dasher over, can you take her with you?”
“Of course.”
She went into the bedroom, changed her clothes, and met Ava and the dog by the door. Dasher looked like a full-grown dog, but she still had the energy of a puppy. A run would do her as much good as it would Aine.
Aine led the dog down the pathway from the house to the beach. It was cold, so there was hardly anyone out, which suited her fine. Part of the reason she wanted to run was to get away from other humans. Dasher was okay, as long as she didn’t start talking to her.
Once she got partway down the beach, Aine realized that she wasn’t going to be able to cross over the usually dry river bed, so she turned around and ran back. It meant her run was nowhere near as long as she’d wanted it to be, unless she ran on the road, which she didn’t want to do with Dasher.
She stopped and picked up a piece of driftwood and threw it for the dog, who instead of bringing it back to her, dropped it in the water. So much for playing fetch.
When she took the pathway up to the house, Striker was standing in the backyard.
“How was your run?” he asked.
“Too short. I’m going to drive north and see if I can find a longer stretch of beach open.”
“Mind if I come with you?”
What? Why? Aine sighed. “I thought you were working.”
“We’re taking a break.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, so—”
“I’m not on any kind of schedule. There’s a twelve-hour difference between us and Pakistan, so there isn’t much happening now.”
Aine almost asked what they were working on in Pakistan, but stopped herself. One, he probably couldn’t tell her, and two, she needed to stop thinking about what Striker was doing or thinking or feeling.
“Please.”
She wanted to cry in frustration. “It isn’t a good idea.”
“Would the plumber be jealous of you going on a run with a friend?”
“We aren’t friends.”
“I’ve told you I want to be.”
When Aine sat on the grass and Dasher climbed into her lap, Striker sat down too.
“You said the age difference between us was a bigger issue than you thought it would be. You said your life was set and I didn’t have one.”
He smiled. “I didn’t say you didn’t have a life.”
“I’m not playing games, Griffin—I mean, Striker. Semantics don’t matter. You know what you said as well as I do. Are you really going to argue with me if I don’t repeat it verbatim?”
