by Marlie May
Esteban handed her a folder. “Music and set-up.” He directed his gaze in mine and Dag’s direction. Oh, no. Only me and the Celtic expert were left to share the final assignment. “Lark, you and Dag get heavy events and animal activities. In your folder, I’ve noted a farm that might be able to loan us animals for the events.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“And that’s it for today, folks.” Esteban scanned the room. “Any questions?”
Everyone shrugged.
“Email me if you think of anything. Otherwise, we’ll get together in one weeks’ time.” He smiled. “Meeting adjourned.”
Dag and I emerged from the town hall into the late afternoon sunshine. Heat shimmered in clear waves on Main Street, and moisture beaded across my upper lip in a flash. It was steamy enough outside to plaster my top to my back. Just my luck, I still had to run home.
My body sagged, and it was all I could do to step forward. Sometimes, life felt beyond difficult.
“Where’d you park?” Dag glanced around. Only three cars awaited drivers in the lot.
“I walked.”
“For the exercise?”
Shrugging, I lowered my head, hoping the fall of my hair would hide my expression. Why was I upset when it was clear he was only teasing?
My broken-down vehicle topped the list of good reasons. But this wasn’t the first time Petunia had failed me, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. I’d be fooling myself to blame this solely on my truck. The cause of my scattered brain stood beside me. No matter what direction I steered myself, something inside me zoned in on Dag. My reservations about him hadn’t wavered, but try telling my heart that. He intrigued me. Since I’d met him, I’d been thrown off my game. If I couldn’t find my way through this, I’d be benched indefinitely.
I lifted my head in challenge. “My truck died, okay?” Had he heard the tremble in my voice? Wouldn’t that be fabulous?
“Should we give it a decent burial?”
“Cute.” I sniffed.
His hand trailed down my arm to catch and squeeze my fingers. “I worry about you walking on the road by yourself.”
There he went again. Just when I thought I’d figured him out, he yanked the stability out from under my convictions. “I run four, five times a week on the side of the road. How’s that any different than walking home today?”
“I didn’t know you were a runner.”
“I train for half marathons.”
“Cool.” The warmth in his eyes gave way to a smile. “Humor me and let me give you a ride home?”
Outside of Paisley, no one had worried about me for years. Funny how that little bit of caring from someone who barely knew me could release the ache in my chest.
But I shouldn’t take him up on his offer.
“We don’t have to consider the ride a first date,” he added.
My laughter burst out, driving away my tears. His sense of humor tickled my insides every time.
A peek at my watch told me I had less than an hour to get ready.
“Okay.” I couldn’t keep the reservation from my voice. Because, this was Dag, Mr. Enticement himself. If I wasn’t careful, I’d start caring for him, like I had Ted.
Ted. Who’d shredded my heart.
Dag’s smile came out easier than mine, which had faltered. “This way.” He waved toward one of the vehicles.
We crossed the lot and approached an older Honda.
Too late to back out now. But there was no reason I couldn’t rebuild my walls. Because it would be dangerous to let this man inside.
As I walked, I opened my tote to insert my assignment folder, but the bag slipped from my hand.
I tried to snatch it from the air, but I only sent it flying. It smacked on the ground and skidded across the pavement like a baseball player sliding into home base.
When it came to a stop, Highlander’s Fury slid out.
Dag
Holding back my grunt of surprise, I walked over and stooped down to help Lark pick up her things. Hard to miss what stared up at me.
Highlander’s Fury.
Lark was reading my book? Why did the thought of her holding one of my novels make me want to leap around the parking lot like a fool?
I handed her the paperback, and my words echoed my confusion. “You’re reading this?”
“I’m so embarrassed.” Her eyes darted downward. The pretty blush on her face drew all my attention. I wanted to stroke her cheeks and taste the heat with my palms. Give it back to her tenfold with a kiss.
“Why embarrassed?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You probably think I’m ridiculous reading a romance.”
I hated when people assumed that romance novels were only for the weak-minded. I was here to tell them that it took a shitload of skill to write a book like that. It was ten times easier to write an action scene than one filled with emotion. Besides, there was nothing wrong with reading a novel about two people who wanted to be together. Welcome to life, folks. No one mocked the device when they used it in movies. “Why ridiculous?”
“Because I’m a college graduate,” Lark said. “A waitress who dreams of becoming a manager. Yet, here I am, enjoying a sexed-up historical Highlander romance novel.”
I frowned. “What’s the problem with that?”
“You know what people say about women who read bodice rippers. It’s smut. Total trash. A romantic brain-drain. And here you are, a Celtic expert, and all. You must think I’ve got nothing but fluff between my ears.”
“People who say things like that are crap.”
Her chin lifted. “I really don’t think that about romance novels. It’s just something…a guy I dated once called them.” Her eyes fled mine. “My ex. He was a jerk.”
The guy who’d made her leery about men. The one who’d fucked it up for everyone she met afterward, including me.
The one who’d hurt Lark.
“The thing is…” Her tropical blue eyes lifted to meet mine. “I love this series. It’s perfect.”
“The story? Or the hot guy on the cover?”
She shrugged. “Both, I guess.”
Why was I irritated about her lusting after Duncan? He was a fictional dude who did whatever I told him to do. The man Lark saw as perfect was nothing but a model on a book cover. Hell, this was my book cover.
To think she was swooning over a fake character, while I was standing here, the real thing.
She lifted her chin. “It’s not just the cover, it’s also what’s inside.”
Said in such an earnest tone, I could tell she was passionate about the subject. About my book. Which stirred up all kinds of feelings inside me again.
“The author made me care about the main character. I admire Lenore more than anyone else in the world.”
“Why?” The planet could explode around us, and I’d still need her answer.
“Because she’s resilient. Courageous. And capable of great love.”
“For him?” I tapped Duncan’s face. I’d met the model who posed for the cover. The guy was married, had a bunch of kids, and he worked as an accountant on the side. Right now, I wanted to rearrange his face.
“He’s the ideal man. Strong. Caring.” She paused as if emotion pulled the next words from deep inside her. “He’s responsible.”
Responsible.
Ahh… I shook my head. She had to be kidding me. Was this the reason why she didn’t want to go out with me?
“You don’t see me as responsible.” Wasn’t sure how I felt about that. No, I knew damn well how I felt. I was irritated.
While my handyman job sounded like a lame lifetime career, I loved working with Roan. I wouldn’t give that up for a woman who couldn’t figure out what she wanted badly enough to name it.
She winced. “I’m sure you’re an excellent handyman.”
“Why not take a chance with someone new?” I should take her to her home and then forget about her. From the way I was acting, people would think I wanted mo
re than to go out with her. What did I really want here? Obviously, I wanted to hang out with her. Get to know her better.
I liked her.
Shit. Raking my hair ragged, I pondered what that meant. Because it felt like I was tumbling down a slippery slope that led to a pond named Commitment. And commitment led to deeper emotions I was determined to avoid at all costs.
Like love.
I had to get out of here before I did something unexpected. Because, lately, that’s all I seemed capable of doing around Lark. Some unknown being inside me was driving my bus, and it was approaching a cliff too fast. I couldn’t slow it down.
Lark’s shoulders slumped. “I…I’ve been hurt. I don’t know if I’ll be able to trust anyone again. That’s why I said I was taking a break from guys.”
Seeing her so defeated twisted my insides into a knot. When she looked up, her beautiful eyes swam with tears. I hated tears because I never knew how to deal with them. Whenever a woman pulled them, I put as much distance as possible between me and the waterworks. Because I didn’t know how to deal with stuff like that. I should leave.
Why wasn’t I leaving?
With a groan, I took her hand and stroked my thumb across her silky skin. “So, you’ve got these rules you’ve laid out for guys you go out with.”
“Yeah.”
“You know everyone’s different. While a man might appear irresponsible, he could actually be a decent person. It’s not just about jobs or shit like that.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m really not judgmental like this.”
“This may sound weird, but I get the feeling you’d date someone who came across like…” I pointed to the book cover. “Him.”
“Hmm.” Her dreamy eyes met mine. “I would date someone like Duncan.”
It was flattering in one way. Damned infuriating in every other.
“Meeting a guy like that is impossible.” Resignation ruled her voice. “He’s a character in a book, and I’ve learned men like Duncan don’t exist.” She released my hand and stepped backward. “We should get going, or I’ll be late for work.”
I unlocked the vehicle, and she slid into the passenger seat. After, I walked slowly around to the driver’s side.
What could I say to her now? As much as I wanted to get to know her better, she still thought I was like the other asshole she’d let into her life. Call it judgmental or not, it was clear she wasn’t prepared to see anything further.
For the first time ever, I wanted to share my secrets with someone. Tell Lark what I really did for a living. Reveal that I hadn’t been with anyone in months. Confess that sometimes, while the rest of the world slept and I worked through the dark, I was lonely.
Filling her in on my true identity might change things, but I refused to share that with anyone I didn’t trust. And I may be stubborn, but I’d been burned, too. I wanted Lark to be interested in me for who I was, not because of my wealth. I rubbed my aching chest, telling myself it hurt from working out at the gym a few days ago. Muscle strain. No other reason.
It was time to get home and finish my book. Put Lark Harpswell from my mind. Because the only way I could lure this woman into reconsidering me as solid dating material was if I could convince her I was as worthy as Duncan.
No chance of that.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, buckled, and started the car. “Are you free any afternoon this coming week?” Time to focus on anything but me and her, because that led nowhere. “We can visit the farm. Get the animal events organized.”
She tipped her head my way. “How about Wednesday, after one?”
“I’ll pick you up, since your truck’s…inconsistent.”
“That’s an understatement.”
She directed me toward her house.
As I pulled into her drive, I glanced over at her. She stared down at my book, her finger stroking the cover.
That smile.
If I sat in front of my computer for a thousand years, I’d never find the words to capture the mood on her face. Dreamy. Wistful. Full of so much promise, it made me want to wrap her up in my arms and kiss her until her mouth could only gasp yes.
But I wouldn’t push her. That wouldn’t be fair.
To get Lark to consider going out with me, I’d have to turn myself into Duncan Magnus Ferguson MacLeod.
Which was impossible.
Or, was it?
* * *
Early Tuesday morning, I leaned back in my chair and finished my cold coffee. Other than a few hours’ sleep, I’d spent most of the night working on my book. Finally, I was finding some words.
But I needed a break. Rising, I strolled to the kitchen and poured more coffee. In the living room, I shoved aside a pile of dirty laundry—no, the dryer sheet tangled among the pants and shirts made it clear they were clean. I dropped onto the sofa and took a long drink.
Sometimes, even I couldn’t stand how messy the place got while I worked on a book.
I pulled off my tee and tossed it aside. Frankly, I needed to get out of my sweats, too, and put on some shorts. Or strip and drop into bed.
Somewhere down the road, a dog barked and kept at it. Must be Ankle Biter Fred, the self-appointed herald of the neighborhood. Rising, I swung open the front door, speculating about what had set the poodle off this time.
I expected to see a vehicle cruising down the road. A skunk sniffing at someone’s garbage. Or a kid riding a bicycle.
The woman I couldn’t stop thinking about ran in the breakdown lane, coming this way. A bolt of sunshine on a dark, cloudy day. Lark crossed in front of my place, her feet slapping the pavement.
For whatever reason, my tongue jumped into the scene without consulting me first. “Awful early to be up, isn’t it?”
She slowed to a stop at the end of my drive, and her gaze staked me out on my tiny deck.
I took the stairs and strolled across my lawn, coffee cup in hand.
“It’s not early,” she said, only slightly winded. “I’ve been up an hour already.”
My watch said seven. In the morning. That was early enough for me. Or late, since I’d been up since one. “Where you running to?”
“I’m training for a half marathon.”
Oh, yes. She was a runner. “That’s cool.”
“I run to raise funds for the Sweetwater Foundation. I aim for two a year if I can keep in top form.”
No denying she was in top form already. Not that I’d point out that fact, because she’d probably take the comment the wrong way.
“How long is a half marathon?” I asked.
“The one I ran a month ago was about thirteen miles.”
I’d be lucky to make it one mile, let alone thirteen. I whistled through my teeth. “Why the Foundation?”
“Paisley had leukemia, though it’s in remission now.” Lifting one arm over her head, she stretched, connecting her fingers behind her back. “The Foundation was wonderful when she was sick, sending out people to help with rides when I had to work, or just sitting with her when I couldn’t be there for her. I don’t know what we would’ve done without them. I want to repay them, so I’ve run in her honor since.”
The more I discovered about Lark, the more I admired her. There was no doubt in my mind I’d like to get to know her better. “That’s awesome.”
Lark waved to the road. “I need to leave. My muscles are cooling down, and I’ve got more running to do.”
I opened my mouth to say goodbye, to wish her well with her run. But there went my tongue again, ruling my brain. “Let me grab some sneakers, and I’ll run with you.”
Lark
“You run?” I asked, struggling to hold back my surprise.
Dag shot his attention toward the fence between his property and his neighbor’s. “Sometimes.”
I’d taken a class in body language in college, and his movement shouted he was hiding something. “Sounds like a stretch to me.”
“Your lack of faith is wounding my poor old heart.”
The statement yanked my gaze in that direction. My legs stalled, the connection between my brain and joints severed. Shit. His ab muscles were as defined as his back.
“Keep looking, as long as you want.” The heat in his deep, husky words singed my ears.
Good thing I’d been running. Otherwise, the flames in my cheeks would give me away. What did he expect me to do when he stood around half naked like this? His hair was tousled. Bristle shadowed his cheeks. And his sweats hung so low on his lean hips, one good tug would bring them the rest of the way down. I might be scrambling to maintain a dating freeze, but I wasn’t planted six feet underground.
Linking my arms on my chest, I grunted. “I’m not looking.”
“From where I’m standing, you are. I’m not fragile. You can touch.”
Before I realized what I was contemplating, I’d lifted my hand toward his delicious, lightly-tanned skin. I snatched it back before making contact.
Retreat seemed the wisest action. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow when we go to the farm.”
“Wait.” He tapped my arm. “I wasn’t joking. Give me a second to change.” He disappeared into the house and returned dressed in shorts, a tee, and sneakers. Picking up his speed to a jog the last steps before reaching me, he said, “All set.”
“You need to warm up first.”
His eyes darted down my body. “Think I’m already warmer than I ought to be.”
Not even touching that comment.
Grumbling about cocky men, I led him through my usual warm up, explaining why it was important to loosen his muscles before heading out for a run.
“Let’s go.” I led the way, sprinting back to the road. Unsure about the shape he was in—sexy abs didn’t necessarily translate into stamina—I kept my pace slow so he could keep up.
We’d only gone a short distance before his breath steamed from his lungs like a kettle hot enough to make tea.
“How long…we…doing this?” he asked.
