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Melody looked over at Ginny and experienced a pang of envy at how easily her friend ran and talked at the same time. Ginny’s cropped running tank and booty-hugging boy shorts showed off the same sleek, coltish body she’d had in high school. She probably still ran the 800-meter in two minutes flat…and chattered up a storm while she was at it. Her? Not so much. “I’m not sure I want to anymore. Have we gone five miles yet?”
“Not even. More like three miles. Why? Do you need to walk?”
She gritted her teeth and shook her head. “No. I need to run. I’ve put on a few pounds.”
“Please. You have not.” Ginny turned left and led them down the length of the square, bounding gracefully—like a short white Kenyan.
“I have. Trust me.” She hoped that ended the questions. She wasn’t about to admit she knew because as soon as Josh had driven away from her house last night, she’d run upstairs, dug her cheerleading uniform out of the back of her closet, and tried it on. Sucker was tight. Doing a sexy cheer was out of the question if she couldn’t breathe and the waistband of her skirt was cutting her in half.
“Hmm. From what I observed at DeShay’s last night, Josh didn’t seem to have any complaints. You had his full attention. The looks he sent you”—she fanned her face—“whew…I thought I was going to burst into flames just watching. Which is as close as I’m likely to get to looks like that.”
“You? Are you kidding me? You get looks like that all the time.”
“Pfftt. From the guys around here? They don’t count. Half of them aren’t single and have no business looking. The other half?” She shook her head. “I’ve dated every unattached, interested guy in Bluelick between the ages of twenty-one and fifty. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. Why keep making the same old mistakes with the same old guys?”
“Well…because it’s a small town…which kind of limits the opportunity to make new mistakes?”
“I know. But I’m cool with that. I’m putting myself on a little hiatus, sexually speaking. Who knows, maybe if I go without long enough, I’ll recover my virginity?”
The question made her laugh, which made it impossible to keep running. “Oh God. I’ve got to stop. You go ahead. I’ll catch you on the next lap.”
Ever accommodating, Ginny waved and bounded off as if gravity didn’t have the same hold on her as it did on normal people. Melody stifled a sound of relief and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tank top. Then she took her phone from the holster around her biceps and tapped the screen to call up an app to tell her just how not far and not fast she’d run.
A new text message pulled her off mission. She hit the icon and smiled when she saw the sender’s name. Josh. He’d attached a picture of her running around the square. She could tell by the angle that it was taken from the firehouse.
I don’t know about the rest of the men in Bluelick, but you took care of me in half a lap.
She laughed and then looked back at the fire station to see if she could spot him anywhere. Nope. Still grinning, she typed, You dirty pervert. Get your head out of your pants.
He texted back immediately. Wasn’t my head in my pants. It was something a bit more…handy.
The thought of him, watching her and…ahem…handling himself, sent her head straight into her pants. Don’t you have an engine to buff?
The engine is buffed. I buffed it for the better part of 3 minutes, thanks to you prancercizing in that outfit.
Red tank top over a jog bra and red running shorts? This is a perfectly ordinary running outfit.
Her incoming text signal dinged immediately. From the Nike “Cock Tease” collection. I sat here in all kinds of agony watching your tits bounce while you jogged around the square, remembering how it felt to be lodged between them. I’m not even going to tell you what the sight of your ass in those running shorts does to me. It’s begging to be spanked. I counted 5 laps. You do the math.
She tripped over her own foot, caught her balance, and looked around again. Still no sign of him, but she felt the heat of his gaze as profoundly as a touch. Her skin tingled. Her system hummed. She fought off a naughty urge to run five more laps. Not that she cou
ld. This time she’d know he was watching—which brought a whole new meaning to the term “runner’s high.”
The firehouse stood to her right, in all its historic redbrick glory. She boldly faced the building, put her hand on her hip, and sent the structure a defiant stare. When that didn’t produce any response, she typed, I feel so objectified. Is that all you see when you look at me? Tits and ass? Fine with her. High time someone did.
He sent a new picture over—of her staring at the firehouse. I notice every goddamn thing. Look at your long, toned legs. I might actually get bruised when they’re wrapped around my waist and you’re losing control. I’m also thinking, just for once, you be the firefighter and I’ll be the citizen in distress.
It took a lot not to laugh out loud, but she didn’t want to stand there laughing to herself in the town square like a crazy lady. Keeping her eyes on the screen, she typed, Is this before or after the spanking?
My shift ends at midnight. I’ll be on your doorstep at 12:05 and then you’ll find out.
The notion of finding out had her fingers shaking on the touch screen. Weren’t you the one who insisted on taking me out to dinner first?
That was before you went jogging. You’ve brought this on yourself.
Wow. The benefits of exercise could not be overstated. I accept full responsibility. See you tonight.
You will. Now go put on something decent. I can practically taste your nipples through that tank top.
