Page 28 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

There was something fresh about her. Maybe it was her outlook on life or her spirit. Maybe it was that she had gone through so much and she hadn’t become jaded or cynical. Londyn intrigued me. She stirred my blood.

And damn it, I hadn’t had enough time tonight. I wanted more, not just to give that kiss another go, but to talk.

I should let her go.

“Londyn?” I called.

“Yes?” She turned, flashing me those gorgeous green eyes.

“You feel like sharing the rock again tomorrow night?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

Chapter Six

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Londyn

“That’s a lot of meat. There’s no way I can fit this in my mouth.”

Brooks cocked an eyebrow. “The words any man wants to hear.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” I rolled my eyes, then hefted the sandwich he’d brought me to my mouth and attempted a bite.

The thing was a foot long and weighed at least a pound—a solid brick of meat and cheese with a sprinkling of shredded lettuce and tomatoes. Oil and vinegar coated it all and a thick, sturdy loaf of bread acted more like a boat than bookends.

“Yum.” I hummed as I chewed, my cheeks bulging.

“Good, right?”

“So good.” The words came out garbled.

He laughed, then took a bite of his own, groaning as he ate.

As with all other things Brooks Cohen, that groan of his was damn sexy. It was low and deep, more like a hum coming from his heart than a sound formed from his voice box. It was soft too—if I wasn’t sitting within a foot of his side, I would have missed out.

Tonight was the third night in a row I’d eaten on the lakeside rock with Brooks. Thai that first time. Last night he’d brought pasta. And tonight, subs. Three delicious meals made more so because of the company.

We ate in silence, like the other nights, neither of us anxious to fill the quiet moments. It was like sharing a meal with an old friend, not a new acquaintance. We’d talk later. The sun had yet to drop over the horizon so there’d be time. Brooks would ask questions and I’d soak up his own answers. Last night, we’d stayed out stargazing and talking about nothing until nearly eleven.

These three meals had been three of the most relaxing I’d had in years. I didn’t have a phone buzzing and demanding attention. There was no talk about work, something I realized now had been the constant theme whenever talking with Thomas.

Conversation with Brooks was a discovery. A slow, stirring journey that spanned numerous topics. He’d told me about his parents and growing up in Summers. I’d told him about my life in Boston, skirting around the details of my divorce.

The truth was, I hadn’t thought much about Thomas in the past few days. I didn’t miss him—hadn’t for months. I didn’t yearn for the early days of our marriage, when there had been more joy and thrill. Though things had taken a hard turn at the end, a part of me was glad we were over.

Would I have left otherwise? If there hadn’t been Secretary and the affair, would I have ever realized how unhappy I’d become?

Money had blinded me. I wasn’t in love with Thomas. My job had lost its appeal. That life was devoid of passion.

Passion, I did miss.

Which was probably another reason the last three nights had been so refreshing. Passion and anticipation coated each minute I spent with Brooks like warm chocolate on vanilla bean ice cream. It took every second to the next, delicious level.

He hadn’t made a move to kiss me again. Would he try again tonight? My time in Summers was coming to a close. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive away without at least one kiss to take with me. It would be a memory I’d tuck into my pocket to pull out and replay on the lonely days.

“I picked up your car before I came tonight,” Brooks said. “It’s all done. Good as new.”