“So I’ve been told.”
“She needs shoes. And then I was going to suggest some spandex to prevent chaffing.”
“I didn’t have chafing,” I say, a rise to my chin.
“You didn’t today, but once we start picking up mileage you’re going to wish you wore spandex.”
“He’s right,” Brock says. “And I’m not agreeing with him because this is my store and I’m pushing you to buy stuff. My wife, Evelyn, used to run in those cotton cheerleader shorts, and after a week, she was done and picked up some spandex. Let me get her out here actually, so she can discuss running bras as well.”
“Oh yeah, bras.” Brig looks down at me. “Were you wearing a running bra this morning?”
Okay, now I can feel my cheeks flame. “Umm, no.”
“Did your boobs hurt while running?”
Why do I want to shrivel up into nothing right now?
“My boobs were fine.”
“Are we talking boobs out there already?” A beautiful woman with the tiniest baby bump walks in from the back. Her hair is a gorgeous platinum blonde and she has the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen. When she spots Brig, she looks so happy to see him. “Knightly, it’s about time you came to visit us. Who’s your friend?”
“Hey Evelyn. This is Ruth. She just started running, we had our first run together this morning. She didn’t wear a running bra.”
Didn’t need to add that to the introduction, but whatever.
Evelyn waves to me and then looks directly at my chest. “What did she wear?”
As if Brig is my translator, he asks, “What kind of bra did you wear?”
Why is this happening?
“Front clasp.”
He nods and turns to Evelyn. “Front clasp. The gift to all men.”
Evelyn props one hand on her lower back and looks at my breasts again. “She wouldn’t have jiggled out of it, she’s on the smaller side of breasts.” At that moment, Brock and Brig join her and stare at my breasts. Brig has his hand to his chin, taking me in.
“A handful it seems,” he says, and I just about die from total humiliation.
“The perfect handful,” Evelyn says. “She has bigger boobs than me, my dream size—not too big, not too small—but definitely runners-bra worthy. Even now with my pregnant boobs, I’d still wear one. I can take her back, get her fitted, and see what would be best.”
“That would be great. We don’t want a nip slip, as that would make headlines in Port Snow. Right, Ruthie?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “Mrs. Davenport wouldn’t ever let me live it down.”
“Especially if you continue to wear those tank tops. We’re just playing with nipple fire.” He snaps his fingers. “Bra first, shoes second. I’ll be damned if my friend is made a mockery of in town.”
“Great.” Evelyn takes my hand. “Come with me, Ruth.”
“We’ll work on picking out some shoes that would work while you two are doing that,” Brig says, walking with Brock to the wall of shoes, as I’m dragged to the back by Evelyn. What the hell just happened?
We go into a dressing room where there’s a measuring tape hanging on a peg and a small bench where I assume you can put your clothes. Evelyn whisks the curtain closed and picks up the tape measure.
“So, how long have you liked Brig?” she asks as she starts moving the tape measure around me.
Uh . . . what?
She must catch the ghostly white pallor of my face, because she chuckles and says, “Don’t worry, it seems like the boy has no clue, and I won’t say anything. Not my place.”
“How . . . why . . .?”
She brings the measuring tape around my breasts and says, “The way you look at him. I noticed it right away, then again, I’m also very perceptive about those sorts of things. So how long?”
I don’t even know this woman’s last name and she already has me pegged and is running her hands all over my chest.
Do I confide?
When she pauses and waits for me to answer, I figure, probably. Doesn’t seem like she’s going to drop it.
“Far too long,” I say quietly, a hint of shame in my voice.
“Well, that just won’t do,” she says, pulling away. She gives me a once-over and says, “We’re going to get you fitted so when you go running with Brig, he won’t be able to do anything but notice you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Spandex and a bra will be your new workout gear.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Can I tell you something?” Evelyn says, now putting her hand on her stomach, the measuring tape around her neck.
“Uh, sure,” I say.
“I’ve known Brig for a while now and not once has he ever brought a girl here. He might be completely clueless when it comes to relationships, which is odd, given that’s all he wants. But bringing you here, adding someone to his sacred running time, that’s special. It might not seem like a lot, but knowing how important it is to him to run every morning, this is huge. And I think we should make the most of it, don’t you?”
I twist my hands together. “No offense, but I don’t even know you. I can’t believe I confessed my feelings. I . . . oh God . . . I feel like I might throw up.”
Evelyn quickly puts her arm around me and says, “Sorry, I might have come on too strong. I do that sometimes. I, uh, I tend to read people, I have some psychic capabilities that I don’t talk about much. The minute I saw you, I just felt this power behind those beautiful eyes of yours. I felt the connection between you two. I have no idea what’s in store, but I can tell you this: there’s something special happening, so why not encourage it? Especially if it’s something you’ve wanted for a while, right?”
Feeling exhausted from these last few days, I take a seat on the small bench. “I just wish he’d see me, you know? Like he sees other people. It’s as if when he looks at me, he only sees me through a pinhole. He doesn’t see the entire package, and it’s frustrating. Makes me wonder if I’m good enough.” I sigh and press my hand against my forehead. “Why am I telling you this?” I chuckle.
“Because it’s weighing heavily on you.” In her pregnant glory, she squats down in front of me and I try to move to the side so she can sit on the bench, but she keeps me in place, her hands on my knees. “Brig is different. Ever since he got back from New Orleans—”
“Oh God, the stupid curse.” I roll my eyes and Evelyn’s grip grows tighter on my knees.
“It might seem ridiculous to you, and I’m not saying they were cursed, but when put in a situation like that, when your inhibitions are heightened because of alcohol, what might not be completely real feels one hundred times more like reality. And then Griffin’s wife died a few days after, which is tough for someone in that situation to comprehend. Brig was one of them. Did you know that’s why he started running? He might brush it off as a joke with his brothers, but he was feeling incredible anxiety every day after Claire passed, and he needed a way to diffuse that. He ran casually before his birthday trip, but he became a serious runner after. He came to us for help, to ease that anxiety. The point is, he’s blinded right now, and he needs someone to help him lower the blinders and see the world he’s been missing out on for the past few years. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, Ruth. It’s that he can’t.”
“I . . . I didn’t know,” I say softly, my mind whirling with the info dump she just gave me.
“He doesn’t show it very often. I’m not sure he actually ever talks about the anxiety and fear he’s held on to from New Orleans. His brothers just laugh it off, and everyone else in town gossips about it. It might not have been real, but it still felt real to him. Claire was a sister to him and losing her like that, so abruptly, it did damage to his tenderhearted soul.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ask, completely confused. I thought I was coming to get running shoes, not have a heart-to-heart with a complete stranger.
“Because, like I said, th
ere’s something between you two, I can feel it. But there’s a barrier that needs to be broken down first. It’s not on your end, because there’s something within you that’s . . . turned a corner, and you’re exploring the idea of opening yourself up to love. Despite something in your past, you’re . . . ready to love. But Brig isn’t there yet, and he needs help.” She shrugs, and I stand there shocked.
She thinks I’m ready to love? After Brig said I was emotionless . . . But I can see the truth in both statements. I have held myself apart, as Brig suggested, but since he’s entered my everyday life in the last week, I do feel ready to love. So strange. So . . . hopeful. And now I have one of his friends ready to dress me in a way that may open Brig’s eyes to see me. “I do want to help Brig be happy, Evelyn. He deserves that and more.”
“Yes, he does, and if decking you out in eye-catching running gear helps, then that’s what we do. Also, the first two outfits are on me. I want to see him happy just as much as you do.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. This isn’t a ploy to get you to buy things. This is me, as Brig’s friend, reaching out. You’re special to him. He might not know it, but bringing you here, inviting you into his running world, that means something. Something big. As he tries to figure out why, let’s give him a little show. Okay?”
I smile lightly. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s go find you some outfits.”
We pop out of the dressing room and into the front part of the store where Brig spins around and holds up a shoe.
“I found a red one, your favorite color.” The look of pride on his face, that smile . . . God, I’m gone.
“Red’s your favorite color?” Evelyn asks. “Well, we can easily work with that.” She squeezes me tight and takes me to the racks of clothing, and I feel Brig’s eyes on me the entire time. When I glance up, he smiles again and then like a goof, gives me a thumbs up.
If what Evelyn said is true, about Brig being blind to possibilities of love around him, then I really should help him open his eyes, show him that it’s not that scary to open your heart, to see that he’s not going to be alone forever. Not if he gives me a chance.
* * *
Night has fallen over Port Snow, the cast-iron streetlamps are the only light illuminating the sidewalk outside Snow Roast. After I nearly bought out Roadrunners—not really, but felt like it—we stopped by Tanya’s Tackle, a tackle and bait shop that also has a side window serving the best lobster rolls in the area. Sounds weird, but if you’re from the area, eating lobster rolls from a bait shop doesn’t even faze you. We sat in the convertible, played some old school sixties music, and ate our lobster rolls. It was sweet, perfect, and then we drove home, talking about the routes Brig wants to try out with me when I’m ready to start running farther.
After the money I spent at Roadrunners, I’m invested in this running thing now.
Brig puts the car in park and asks, “Do you want me to help you take your bags up to your apartment?”
I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. I can handle them. You’ve truly done enough. And you didn’t have to buy my shoes for me, but thank you.”
“Of course I did. It was my idea to get you to run, so I wanted to contribute.” His hands twist around the steering wheel. “So, tomorrow, same time?”
I open the door to the car and say, “Yeah, that sounds great.” From the back seat, I grab my two bags and then step back from the car. “Thanks for taking me, Brig. I appreciate it.”
His head tilts to the side, and I catch his eyes roam over me for a brief moment. As if confused, he lightly shakes his head and turns away. “Uh, yeah. Sure. It was fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ruthie.”
“Tomorrow,” I say quietly as he pulls away. I don’t move immediately. I stare at his taillights, Evelyn’s words on repeat in my head.
I have to help him see again.
Tomorrow starts a new day.
I gained confidence being around Brig, and now it’s time to help him open his eyes. And hopefully, once they’re open, they’ll see me.
* * *
I have never felt so exposed in my entire life.
Good God, what would my mother think of me right now?
Standing outside of Snow Roast, I’m wearing a vibrant red pair of spandex shorts that barely reach my upper thighs and a white sports bra with red straps that loop around the side. It was a really cute outfit at the store, but wearing it now, in public, with Brig on his way, I can’t help but feel a tiny bit . . . slutty.
Evelyn gave me her number when I was on my way out of the store and she told me to send her a picture this morning. I did just that and told her I was putting a shirt on.
She demanded I didn’t, told me I looked great, and assured me that my outfit was the exact wakeup call Brig needed.
The only positive about all of this? The red shoes Brig picked out for me are extremely comfortable and even though I feel exposed, the clothes feel great too. Evelyn fitted me perfectly.
Staring at my new shoes, I hear someone jogging and look up just in time for Brig to spot me.
And it’s the perfect reaction. All that worry, all that uneasiness quickly vanishes as he slowly peruses me from my feet all the way to my head.
Surprised, his eyebrows are practically kissing his hairline, and he runs his hand over his mouth as he steps up to me. “Ruthie, wow . . . you look.” He clears his throat. “You look great.”
Not wanting to make much of the outfit, because I’ve never been the Carrie Bradshaw type who spins around and shows off what she’s wearing, I say, “Thanks.” I push off the building and say, “Surprisingly, I’m not really sore this morning. I thought I was going to be—hey, are you okay?” I ask as Brig’s eyes are fixed on my chest.
He snaps out of it quickly and says, “Huh, what?”
A small smile creeps over my lips and I decide to tease him. “Why Brig Knightly, are you checking me out?”
“Uhh . . .” He pulls on the back of his neck. “I don’t know, was I?”
Chuckling, I say, “You tell me. What was the last thing you were just looking at?”
I catch the lightest shade of pink caress his cheeks. “I think it was your toes.”
“My toes are covered by shoes.”
“Did I say toes? I meant, uh . . . fingers. Yup, your fingers.”
I put both hands on my hips and say, “Brig, you were looking at my boobs.”
“Was I?” He tries to laugh it off but fails miserably and drags his hand down his face. “Only because Evelyn was making a big deal about them yesterday. I wanted to know what all the hoopla was about.”
“Is that right?”
He nods.
“And what’s the conclusion?” I ask, trying to hold back the shake in my hands.
“They’re . . . uh . . . nice.” His cheeks darken and oh my God, I wish I was alone so I could do a happy dance.
Brig thinks my boobs are nice.
Talk about a great way to start my morning.
“Thanks,” I answer, so much excitement in my voice that it comes out squeaky. On a high, not controlling anything that comes out of my mouth, I say, “I grew them myself.”
Ehhh . . .
Brig’s head perks up and he grins. “As opposed to someone else growing them? Are there gardeners that mainly focus on the mammary glands that I’m unfamiliar with?”
“Yes. Boob-a-culturalists. Costs decent money, but they produce perky results.”
His head falls back as he laughs, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down his strong neck, and it’s hot. Really hot.
“If only I knew about such an occupation when I was trying to figure out what to do. Instead of fine-tuning old cars, I could have been helping boobs meet their full potential.” And wouldn’t Brig have a long waiting list with all the women statewide, wanting the gorgeous man to be their boob-a-culturalist!
“Missed opportunity.” I chuckle and say, “Are we going to stand here all day and
talk about boobs or are we going running?”
“I’m game for both.”
Rolling my eyes, I start jogging the same way we did yesterday, only for him to fall in line with me. “Just so you know, I think you look great in your new gear. Not sure I mentioned that amidst the checking out of your boobs.”
Now it’s my time to blush. “Thank you. It already feels better to have the proper shorts on.”
“So does this mean you’re a solid running partner?”
I glance over at him and say, “Let’s see how the first week goes before we become official.”
A victorious smile plasters itself across his face. “Deal.”
* * *
After an egg and bacon sandwich and a bottle of water, I parted ways with Brig and went up to my apartment where I found a blue letter had been delivered at my doorstep.
When on earth did he write this? And oh my God, I hope he didn’t see it delivered.
I make my way into the apartment, crash on my couch, and open the letter.
I’m hit with the smell of his cologne and it makes me snort with laughter.
Of course he’d start spraying his letters. That’s so Brig.
Feeling giddy, I read his beautiful cursive.
Dear Secret Pen Pal,
I feel like you delivered gold with your last letter. That recipe is going to be so clutch when I plan out my week for how to annoy my brother. This will drive him crazy. Thank you.
Funny how you like summer when I want it to end most of the time. Although, I’ve been enjoying my summer so far. It’s been crazy with tourists, yes, but they also support Port Snow and help make it the awesome town it is. The most annoying part of summer is when they crowd Snow Roast. I get it, the coffee cake is amazing, but I need my daily fix. Crowd anywhere else, just not there. Do you feel the same way? I guess I don’t know if you’re a coffee or tea drinker. I like both. But I’m also a sucker for a pastry of any sort, hence the whole in love with your whoopie pie thing.
Favorite childhood memory, hmm . . .
That Swoony Feeling Page 12
