Sparking the Fire by Kate Meader

Author:Kate Meader
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Eyes that could put Wyatt six feet under twice snapped up, and too late, he realized that he might have made a mistake in being so flippant. Something was majorly off here.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing. Just me being my diva self,” she snapped at Wyatt as she snatched at a pair of pink running shoes and stabbed her feet into them. Her eyes flickered to the remnants of the phone she’d chucked with a vengeance, and she seemed to waver before settling on a course of action. Sunglasses on, baseball cap pulled down, she marched to the gable of the house.

He was in her space in a CFD second. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m heading out for a run.”

He was sensing a little attitude here. At eight in the evening, the July sun was hanging low on the horizon. Darkness always crept up quicker than expected. “Little late for that.”

“Don’t care.”

“Wait a minute. I’ll change.”

“Really, Wyatt?” She shook her head, her mouth pinched in disgust. “Don’t bother. You stay your same, surly self.”

Okay, subtext thrown down, not in the least bit understood. The female brain was not his superpower. Protecting this woman was. He’d missed her. To the point that he’d taken on inventory and an extra shift at the bar last night so he wouldn’t have to be reminded how much he missed her.

“Wait here,” he ordered.

She chose to ignore him, but the view sure looked as good going as it did coming.

Ninety seconds later, dressed in shorts and running shoes, he was assessing the street where he lived. Tonight it was its usual tree-lined and car-packed self, but angry blonde–free. His next-door neighbor, Mrs. Gish, was sweeping her front porch. Cleanest spot on the block, bar none.

“Evenin’, Mrs. G. See any short blondes running like their head’s on fire?”

Mrs. G pointed her broomstick toward the lake, four blocks off. Made sense. Ideal place to put out the flames.

He caught up with her a block from the lake path, a V of sweat already painting the back of her shirt. Falling into step with her, he hauled labored breaths for a few. He’d sprinted to make up the distance.

She didn’t acknowledge him, just kept that pin-you-to-the-wall focus he’d seen her display on the set. Her body maintained excellent form, economical in movement, nothing wasted. Her disguise kept her anonymous, and he let the pleasure of that soak in. Out in public together, but no one knew or cared. They were just a couple on a Thursday evening running along the lake in the most beautiful city in the world.

Molly might be pissed, but Wyatt was feeling pretty good. Like he was where he was supposed to be.

She stopped so quickly that he’d already run a few steps and had to course correct on a dime to face her. Hands on hips, chest heaving, she stared at her feet as if they had committed the cardinal sin of daring to be .

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