Running Away With You (Running #3)

by Suzanne Sweeney

  “Listen, if anyone deserves a fairytale wedding, it’s you, Jepetto. And I’m not going to sit quietly and watch it all get ruined. You need to pull out all the stops. I just sold an eight-thousand-square-foot home in Mantoloking to the CEO of Infinity Broadcasting. His daughter is getting married to some famous racecar driver. He’s using a wedding planner. I think you two should do the same thing.”

  Reese, as usual, agrees with Auggie. “If you had a wedding planner, she could do all your legwork. She could go to the places you can’t go. The minute you and Evan take another tour of a golf course, a winery, or a resort, it will become front-page news. You’re not private people anymore. Time you started dealing with it.”

  I hate to admit it, but they’re both right. “Auggie, can you get me the number of their wedding planner?”

  Auggie takes out his cell phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. “Already on it.”

  Luckily, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt when our meals arrive. Before anyone takes a bite, Evan stands up to make a toast.

  “Please raise your glasses and join me in toasting to life. To Juliette, who found me and brought help when I was trapped with Averee. To Laci, who took Auggie’s place on that doomed helicopter ride. And finally, to Adam, who single-handedly rescued my fiancée from a fiery inferno. To each of you I owe a debt that can never be paid. Auggie, Juliette, and I will always remember how lucky we are to be here with you now. To life!”

  Everyone repeats, “To life!” and we all reach across the table to clink our glasses with one another. Tearfully, I get up from my seat and find my way to Adam. Standing behind him, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and whisper in his ear, “Thank you.”

  Chapter Two

  Learning the Ropes

  It’s our first Saturday morning back at the beach house. We moved back home earlier this week, and it feels so good to be home again, where we belong.

  Unfortunately, it’s also time to pack another overnight bag for Evan. Today he’s flying to Baltimore. It seems silly to me – Baltimore is just a few hours away by car – but I suppose when you’re moving eighty people and enough equipment to fill a Mack truck, putting them all in one place and transporting them together makes sense.

  I hear the water running in the bathroom while Evan showers. AC/DC is blaring, and when I hear Evan singing along to “You Shook Me All Night Long”, I can’t help but smile. We have a routine when he’s got an away game, and “You Shook Me All Night Long” pretty well sums it up. The first few weeks of the season, I felt guilty for keeping him up all night so close to a game, but then I realized that the night before the game, he’s safely tucked away in his hotel room by seven o’clock. That more than makes up for whatever sleep he might have missed the night before.

  He doesn’t need to take much with him when he travels. He’ll wear a suit jacket on the plane, and then again on the way home, so there’s no need to pack that. He needs workout clothes, something to wear to dinner, and lots of clean socks and underwear. God, he has great underwear. Some say Armani on the waist. Others say Andrew Christian in gold. They are all tight-fitting boxer briefs, and all make him look sexy as hell. Not that he needs any help in that department.

  He laughs. “Why are you staring at my underwear?” I was so caught up in my thoughts I never heard him turn off the music. Now he’s standing in front of me wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets cling to his skin, and all I can think about is licking them off one by one.

  “I was just thinking about how hot you look in just these boxers,” I tell him as I toss him a pair of black Armani.

  He unceremoniously drops the towel and stands before me as naked as a jaybird, with a goofy grin spread across his face. Slowly and deliberately, he puts one leg at a time into the boxers and pulls them up, keeping his eyes locked on mine the whole time. “Good to know I can still get my future wife all hot and bothered.”

  He takes the towel and removes the excess water from his hair, face, shoulders, and chest. “I never thought I would say this, but I like getting ready for away games.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a pair of dark wash designer jeans. He pulls them on, leaving the top button undone as he wanders around the room, grabbing things to toss into his overnight bag.

  My God, he’s delicious.

  “Okay, let’s go through the checklist one more time,” Evan demands.

  “Seriously? Again? Evan, really, I’m not a child,” I remind him.

  “I’m perfectly aware that you’re not a child. You proved that over and over again last night, my love.” He walks over, presses a chaste kiss to my lips, then continues, “But you know I’m going to worry, and having a plan helps me worry less.”

  It saddens me to know that Evan blames himself for the house fire. Well, not exactly. He knows Ryker is at fault for that, but he thinks that if he’d insisted I stay with a friend, I would have been safe. But I’m stubborn and I wanted to stay in my own bed, so if either of us were to blame, it would be me.

  I rattle off the agreed-upon plan. “Before going to bed, I make sure there is a fully charged, working telephone in every room of the house. I set the house alarm and turn on the motion detectors. When I’m ready to turn in for the night, I take my cell phone and charger, keep them on the bedside nightstand, and call you no matter what time it is.”

  “Anything else?” he asks.

  I pause and think. Did I leave anything off the list? “I don’t think so.”

  “Make sure you have Maddy with you. She’ll warn you if something happens,” Evan reminds me. The moment she hears her name, her little nub of a tail begins wagging wildly. I have no doubt that if some danger were to present itself, she would know immediately.

  While Evan finishes gathering his toiletries, I head into the kitchen to make our breakfast. Still wearing nothing more than an unbuttoned pair of jeans, he saunters into the living room and turns on Sports Center while I finish cooking. He likes to hear the early predictions before the game. The Ravens’ record this season is four and seven, but they’re playing at home. Three of their wins were at home, so the predictions are split. The Sentinels haven’t lost a game in five weeks; they’re on a run and I hope it doesn’t break anytime soon.

  I watch Evan, glued to the television with his bare feet propped up on the table and his arms folded behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He looks much like any other man watching the Sports Channel. That is, of course, until they put a picture of him up on the screen opposite Joe Flacco, quarterback for the Ravens. Statistics flood the screen and I see Evan studying them carefully. Watching him staring at himself on the screen is unreal. Sometimes I feel like I have to pinch myself as a reminder that this is not a dream, it’s my life. It’s a life I’ve chosen, and a life I wouldn’t change for anything.

  After breakfast, Evan finishes getting dressed while I clean up. All too soon it’s time for him to leave. He places his overnight bag near the front door and turns to say his goodbyes. I wrap both arms around his waist and lift my chin to meet his. He presses his lips against mine as he grips my ponytail to keep my head tilted back while his other hand gently touches my face and neck.

  I slip my hands into his back pockets and grip his firm, tight ass as he deepens the kiss. Our tongues slide over each other, teasing and torturing. Electricity zings through my body, leaving me weak in the knees, so I hold on tighter and lean in closer. He responds by wrapping his free hand around my waist and effortlessly lifting me off the floor.

  I release a soft, “Mmm,” into his mouth as I glide my hands from his backside up into his thick, chestnut hair, twisting and tugging.

  It’s like this every time. We can’t get enough of each other. Finally, it’s Evan who breaks us apart and places me back on the ground. “Any more of that and I’ll miss my flight.” He turns and picks up his bag before heading out the door. As he walks down the driveway toward his Porsche, he adjusts his pants, which seem to fit a lot m
ore snugly in the crotch all of a sudden. I watch, knowing I did that to him, that is the effect I have on him, and it’s a heady feeling. As he opens the car door, he turns and calls back, “I love you, Juliette. I’ll call you as soon as we land.” And I know he will.

  I arrive a little early for work to find the restaurant busy. During the off-season, we make nearly all our money on the weekends. Thanks to the start of the fall semester at Monmouth University, we can still pay our bills.

  Reese has been busy adjusting the menu to include food that appeals to a younger crowd. Derek’s also been working hard to make a special menu of virgin drinks our eighteen- to twenty–year-olds can have while sitting at the bar. It’s been a struggle, but so far I’ve only had to dip into our reserves once.

  I head into the kitchen to check on my new pastry chef, Jeremiah. He’s just finished training with Natalie and we both have complete confidence in him.

  I love baking, but I can’t do my job as owner if I’m locked up in the kitchen all night. It’s become clear to me that I’m happiest when I’m on the floor, serving the customers and pitching in wherever and whenever I’m needed. It’s an added expense to pay for an additional experienced pastry chef, but one that will hopefully make our business stronger.

  Derek is working alone right now while Emmy’s on a break, so I jump back behind the bar to help. There’s a small group of women gathered at the end of the bar, and I immediately recognize them as members of Emmy’s Roller Derby team. Their glasses are empty and Derek hasn’t yet noticed. As they wait patiently, one girl in particular seems to have her eyes trained on every move Derek makes.

  “Hey, isn’t that Emmy’s friend Kate sitting down there?” Derek humphs his agreement, so I continue. “I think she likes you. Why don’t you go talk to her?”

  “Not interested,” he mutters without even a glance.

  “Seriously? She’s cute, Derek. Why don’t you just go over there and talk to her?” I press while making an Appletini for my customer.

  He rolls his eyes before adding, “If you think she’s so cute, why don’t you go talk to her?”

  “Okay, well if she’s not your type, what about Nikki? I don’t think she’s dating anyone. It wouldn’t be hard for you to get a phone number from either one of them, you know.”

  “Why are you so anxious to get me laid, Jette?” He walks over to me and whispers in my ear, “As long as I’m single, am I too much temptation for you to handle?”

  With a smirk, I take the drink to my customer and watch as Derek refills Nikki and Kate’s glasses. I eavesdrop a little on his conversation and I hear the girls asking him if he’s dating anyone.

  “I am,” he lies. “Nothing too serious, but I want to see where it goes.” Wow, he’s a good liar. He didn’t give them any information that could trip him up later and he successfully makes himself appear to be a stand-up kind of guy. Impressive.

  He brings their dirty glasses to the sink and I can’t help but ask, “So Derek, are you currently dating your right hand or your left hand? I want to know which one I should stay away from.”

  Derek snaps a wet bar towel at my ass and snidely remarks, “Not telling. It’s more fun to have you thinking about it and trying to guess.”

  Reese slips out of the kitchen to get something to drink, and immediately the teasing stops. Derek doesn’t like to flirt in front of her. I think he wants to leave the door open for her to return, hoping she’ll change her mind. She won’t. She has her reasons and her mind is made up. Nothing has changed.

  When she leaves, I can’t help but comment, “I think being Reese’s on-call fuck buddy is messing with your mind. You need to have unattached, meaningless sex with someone other than Reese Barrett. Why don’t you go pick out one of those girls and rock her world?”

  “Whose world is Derek rocking?” Emmy asks as she joins us back behind the bar.

  “No one, Emmy. Ignore Jette. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Derek calls over his shoulder as he finishes pouring a few beers.

  “I know exactly what I’m talking about. And for the record, Emmy, I was telling Derek he should pick up one of your teammates sitting there at the end of the bar. What do you know about Nikki and Kate?”

  “Oh my God, Derek, you should totally hook up with one of my girls. Nikki’s got an amazing body, but her boobs are even smaller than mine. Kate’s got a great rack and the nicest ass I’ve ever seen. What are you into?” she asks.

  I listen in shock. “Emmy, when I asked you about your friends, I was thinking you’d tell us about their jobs or their families. I should have known better.”

  “Damn right you should have known better. Who cares where they work? You have to be attracted to someone before you’re interested enough to even ask. Don’t you know anything, Jette?” She laughs me. “Well Derek? Who’s it going to be?”

  “I think I’ll pass, Emmy. But thanks for offering up one of your girls. I’ll keep it in mind,” Derek snickers as he gets back to pouring drafts. Derek turns to me and asks, “Hey boss – can you cover while I take a short break? I just need five.”

  I quickly agree and off Derek ambles to the back. I think he just needs some fresh air. I put some pressure on him and he didn’t like it.

  The waitresses are a little busy, and Emmy knows beer is best served cold, so she helps out by delivering the beers Derek just poured to a table of young men. Emmy looks cute in her skinny jeans and low-cut T-shirt with our logo painted across her chest, drawing attention to her cleavage. I keep a close eye on her as she approaches the table.

  As Emmy hands one guy his drink, he takes her wrist in his hand and pulls her close to him, so she’s only inches from his face. I can see Emmy’s face redden as she struggles to pull her wrist free of his grip while his friends watch and laugh.

  I immediately leave my post behind the bar and head straight toward Emmy. I can hear her politely asking the customer to let go of her.

  “But I think I love you,” he tells her. “Just one kiss and I’ll die a happy man,” he says, still holding tight.

  I grab hold of the guy’s arm and dig my nails into his flesh while I warn him through gritted teeth, “Let go of her, asshole, before I remove the flesh from your arm and then move on to your balls.”

  In a flash, Emmy’s teammates are at her side. “It’s okay, Jette, we’ve got this,” one of the girls confidently tells me. Kate puts herself between Emmy and the asshole as the other girls circle around him. He releases Emmy, and now he’s surrounded by five tough-as-nails chicks. Six, if you count me.

  “Here, let me get your chair,” Nikki offers. She jerks back his chair with him still in it, and he has no choice but to stand.

  “Time for you to leave, douchebag,” insists another girl, whose name I don’t know. Without much fuss or delay, the team very efficiently escorts the small group of men right out the door.

  Marcus just stands there watching with his mouth open in both shock and awe, then follows the group back to the bar. “So, ladies, I think you’ve earned yourselves a round of shots,” he suggests. “What will it be?”

  Emmy immediately decides for the group. “Adios Motherfuckers for everyone!” she decrees.

  It’s Saturday night and I don’t get home until close to one. We’ve been back in our house for only a few days now, and it feels so good to finally be home. I dutifully walk around the house as instructed, setting alarms and checking phones. Maddy is close behind me as I roam around, room by room.

  It has been a busy day and I need a shower to wash the grime from my hair and skin. I set the jets to pulse and let the pounding water massage my muscles. I’m in Heaven as I stand in the shower, motionless, allowing the punishing force of hot water to remove all traces of a long day at work.

  I slip from the shower feeling revitalized, my skin zinging and my mind clear. Hanging on the door is my favorite plush bathrobe, soft as silk, comfortable and cozy. I wrap it around myself, pick up my work clothes, and pour myself a nightca
p, ready to turn in for the night.

  Evan and I are in the same time zone tonight, which makes me feel guilty for calling him at such a late hour. For the last few away games, he was on the West Coast, which made it several hours earlier for him. I send him a quick text to let him know I’m home and in for the night. He sends back a simple, luv u, and I click off the phone.

  I set the phone on the bedside table and grab my Kindle. The room is dark save for the little cone of light glowing from my device, illuminating the impassioned prose of Nicholas Sparks. Every few minutes I pick up the glass on the table, take a deep whiff of the burnished, potent, amber liqueur within and then let a teaspoonful or so trickle down my throat, savoring the little glow it spreads throughout my body. Everything I worry about – managing a new business, being separated from my fiancé, and planning my dream wedding – is outside that bright little cone.

  It’s easy to get lost in the fictional world Sparks paints so vividly. As the new lovers Miles and Sarah share their first kiss, I’m reminded of how much I miss Evan. The bed is too large and empty without him. I’m no closer to sleep than I was an hour ago, and now I’m wishing Evan was here beside me.

  I turn off the Kindle, take the last sip of maple whiskey, and climb beneath the sheets. I close my eyes, and there he is. I can hear his voice and feel his lips. He is everywhere I look. I grab his pillow, wrapping my arms around it and holding it close to my body. I inhale deeply and his clean, masculine scent invades my senses, awakening my burgeoning desire to be near him.