Once we reach the front step, in the halo of the yellow lantern light hanging beside the door, I say, 揝o, I guess I抣l see you at work.?
揑 guess so.?
揋ood night, Vi.?
She takes a breath and gives me a smile.
揋ood night.?
I turn around and take two steps toward my truck.
揅onnor??
I turn back.
揧eah??
揥ere you serious about us . . . running together?
揙h, yeah. Absolutely. They抮e great trails梱ou shouldn抰 miss out on them. I抦 up to go running anytime you are. You could text me . . . ?
揧es! That would be awesome.?She bounces a little梥eeming both relieved and excited.
And again . . . her boobs jiggle fantastically. It抯 almost hypnotic桰 could stare at them all day long.
揚erfect,?Vi continues. 揑抣l text you and we can figure out when we抮e both free this week??
揝ounds great.?I smile, drifting back toward her like I抦 being magnetically pulled.
揋ood,?she says with a nod, slightly breathless.
If this was a real date, with a normal woman my age, this would be the moment when I抎 go in for a good-night kiss. Maybe a simple brush on the cheek, maybe something near the corner of her mouth梐 feeler kiss梩o see if she was open to the real thing.
And if she was . . .
I would skim my palms up her hips and slide them around her back梙olding her gently and pressing her close. So she could feel how tightly wound I was, so she would know how much she抯 wanted. Desired.
And then I would lean down and press my mouth against hers, so soft at first, to relish the velvet feel of her lips. And when she was stretching up on her toes, pushing her breasts and stomach against me, craving more桰 would taste her. I抎 take my time and delve into her warm, tight mouth, again and again梔rowning in the sweetness and sensation梪ntil we were both weak-kneed drunk.
揇aaad, come on!?Spencer whines out the window of my truck. 揧ou抮e taking forever and I gotta go home and take a poop!?
I sigh. Tilting my head up to the starry night sky, to laugh, and ask God why.
揂nd on that note, I should probably go.?
Violet covers her mouth, laughing behind her hand.
揙kay梘ood night, Connor.?
揘ight, Vi.?I get in one long, last look of her before turning toward my truck. 揝weet dreams.?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Violet
I don抰 think I抳e ever truly understood the expression on cloud nine before. But now I do. Because in the weeks after Dean and Lainey抯 wedding, I抦 walking on cloud nine, ten, and eleven.
There抯 a floatiness to my steps, a sparkling fizzy sensation beneath my skin, and a constant current of happiness swirling in my stomach. The sun is shinier, colors are more vibrant, the air seems cleaner, fresher.
Because not only are Connor Daniels and I meeting up to jog together on a regular basis . . . we抮e also officially texting. And that抯 only one letter away from sexting.
Granted, most of the time it抯 about jogging:
Free tomorrow morning?
They抮e calling for rain on Wednesday, don抰 forget your jacket.
How抯 Sunday evening looking for you?
But after a few days we start to have inside jokes, experiences that only the two of us can relate to.
揌ey, Vi,?Connor catches me in the hallway one Tuesday afternoon when we抮e on the same shift at work. 揑 think I spotted Horny in my yard this morning. He was sneaking out of a tree at the crack of dawn looking guilty as hell.?
He抯 referring to the nickname we bestowed on a fat, furry, squirrel we saw humping a rock on our run two days earlier.
I shake my head, grinning. 揑 told you he was a player. He抯 probably got a different girl squirrel in every tree in town thinking she抯 the only one he shares his nuts with.?
Even my clumsiness around Connor begins to improve梩hank God. Although when we抮e jogging I still devote at least fifty percent of my attention to not colliding with a tree or plunging down a ravine . . . just in case.
揑f you had to describe your sense of self in only one adjective, what would it be??I ask him halfway through a sunset jog on a Friday.
Because we also talk as we run. Nothing complicated or deep, but short, light conversations in between breaths that I replay in my head afterward over and over.
揝tudly,?he answers automatically.
I roll my eyes. 揑抦 being serious.?
揗e too. Ask anyone梥tudly isn抰 just what I do梚t抯 who I am. Some guys are just born with it.?
揙kay, Maybelline,?I tease.
We get closer. Comfortable. We get to know each other better. And the more I get to know Connor, the more I like him. And I really didn抰 think that was possible.
揑s this one of those personality quizzes from Facebook that抯 supposed to reveal your inner Disney character??
揗aybe it is,?I reply. 揇o you want to revise your answer? You don抰 want to end up with Gaston. He was studly梐nd a dick.?
We joke with each other. Tease. There are even a few exchanges that could be considered flirtatious梐s well as a whole bunch of covert sniffing on my part.
Because the man smells delectable. Seriously. Even his sweat smells good梞asculine and outdoorsy條ike the scent of freshly cut wood and warm flannel.
The synchronized rhythm of our thudding feet on the dirt path echoes through the trees as Connor considers the question.
揝uccessful.?
I glance at him jogging beside me梐t the broad, toned, shape of him梡owerful but poised. The kind of man who抯 careful because he抯 aware of his own strength. And I think about how he is at work . . . not testy or snappish the way some doctors can be . . . but always confident, firm, and commanding.
揟hat抯 important to you? To be successful??
He shrugs. 揑 mean nobody wants to be unsuccessful. But I抦 a dad, a doctor梡eople depend on me. It抯 important to me that I don抰 let them down.?
Connor lifts his chin toward me in that sexy, alluring way that makes me imagine him reclining in bed梟aked, with one muscled arm tucked carelessly behind his head梚nviting me to hop up and take a ride.
On him.
揥hat抯 your word??
I give him the first answer that pops into my head.
揝ensible.?
And I immediately want to take it back, because梒ould I be any blander?
揟hat抯 not very exciting, is it??
揈xciting comes in many forms, Vi. It changes as you get older.?
揜egardless, I抦 going to go with . . . practical. Final answer. Practical is still boring, but slightly better.?
His brow ruffles. 揘o, practical isn抰 boring at all. It抯 focusing on what matters. What抯 important. When shit goes down and things gets real梡ractical is exactly what you want right there beside you.?
Like I said, cloud nine, ten, and eleven.
*
One hot Saturday afternoon in June, Connor and I make plans to go jogging a little before dusk. He pulls into my driveway while I抦 on the front lawn limbering up.
I spend an embarrassing amount of time choosing my clothes for our outings. Obviously, I want to look good in a way that gets his attention梑ut I don抰 want to look like I抦 trying to look good.
It抯 a delicate balance.
Today I抦 wearing black Lycra bike shorts that accentuate my legs and a cute oversized zip-up white hoodie. As Connor rounds the front of his truck, looking good enough to eat in a gray short sleeved T-shirt that hugs his biceps and black basketball shorts, I unveil the pi鑓e de r閟istance of today抯 outfit.
I unzip my sweatshirt and tie it around my waist條eaving me in nothing up top but a new teal sports bra that goes great with my tanned summer skin and pushes the girls together fabulously, without strapping them down.