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Once the mower is silent, I wait for him to give me his full attention, crossing my fingers that my patience will pay off in the end. It doesn’t come easily or without thought, given the length of time it takes him to glance at me and acknowledge my presence. “I’ve tried to reach you to arrange a time to run.” I leave it at that and wait for him to protest.
When he responds, it isn’t so much of a protest, but he does squirm uncomfortably, and his eyes shift around before looking down at the ground. “Been busy.”
“I hear ya.” I truly am trying to be calm about this, but something feels off.Wrong. So without thinking I lean slightly over the fence and murmur, “Is your phone broken?” I leave the innuendo hanging there, until he finally lifts his gaze to mine once more. “Look, all you had to do was text me back and say thanks but no thanks. The blow off was a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
Before he can respond, the front door opens and his pretty wife steps out onto the porch. She’s got on a black power suit, a crisp white blouse and is carrying a leather briefcase and to-go coffee cup in her left hand, large black purse slung over her shoulder. Her straight black hair falls to her chin, one glossy chunk tucked behind her ear. She glares at Davis, then rolls her eyes to me, giving me a brief non-interested look before stating, “I’m going to the office.” Her voice is as ice cold as her blue eyes, and there’s a similar wall of protectiveness around her as the one around her husband, although I’d liken hers to more of an electric fence.
Davis doesn’t respond to her in any way, neither does he follow her movements with his eyes as she slides inside her pricey Mercedes and backs out of the driveway. He’s fully and completely non-interested in her, which peaks my curiosity. I’m certain there’s a bigger story there than I once thought. I’ve never seen spouses so clearly hostile with one another.
I wait until her car is out of sight, then once more look at the man who has somehow captured my complete attention in the span of a few weeks. “What does she do?”
“CPA.”
The sound of his voice is so hollow it sends chills up my back. “You okay?”
His brown eyes flit to mine and I swear I see relief in them. “Yep. Same ole.”
Alright Whitley… you’ve got one more chance at this and then you’re letting it go.“So… how about a run tomorrow morning? Say, around ten?”
For a man who has spent the past three weeks avoiding anything to do with me, he’s pretty quick to nod his head and agree. “Sure, ten works.”
“I’ll see you then.” I have to force myself to walk away, even though a part of me wants to hang around and see if he’ll talk some more. Good thing I’ve learned very quickly that Davis Morgan won’t be pushed into anything. He lives his life by his own timetable and is not about to succumb to impatience; especially when it’s coming from me, his newish friend. “Have a good day.”
“Yeah, you too.”
