My jaw drops just a little. He sounds so genuine and coming on the heels of his honest confession just a few minutes ago, I want to believe him. However, my internal instincts—the ones that are used to me getting screwed over by men—are yelling at me to be wary of his words.
I’m going to play it safe and choose to listen to my gut right now.
10
After we finish breakfast, Ever insists on cleaning the kitchen and that’s fine by me. It’s the same deal I had with Nix when he lived with me. While she’s cleaning, I go over my workout schedule with her.
“I try to run five miles at least four to five times a week. I usually will go first thing in the morning when I wake up or early evening before it gets dark. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I work out at the gym, and I’m usually there two to three hours. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’ll do something different like inline skating or mountain biking, just to get some activity but not necessarily for a hard workout.”
Ever turns to me from the sink where she is scrubbing the omelet pan. “What do you expect me to do while you’re working out, which apparently seems to be a good chunk of your day?”
“I expect you to be by my side every step of the way. You’re going to get a bird’s eye view of what it’s like to be a professional athlete. I figure you can drive my car behind me while I run, and you can count my repetitions at the gym for me.”
I expect her to balk at this. She’s going to be bored to tears watching me work out every day, and the small part of me that’s still a tiny bit angry with her stands up and claps over my deviousness.
Instead, she surprises me. “Do you mind if I run with you?”
“Not at all.”
“And can I use the gym facilities where you work out?”
“Sure. I’ll get you a membership. There’s a training facility in Tarrytown, New York the players can use but I prefer just going to a local gym here for convenience. I only go to Tarrytown once I’m ready to get back on the ice and that won’t be for a few weeks.”
She goes back to scrubbing the pan and I just watch her movements. I wasn’t lying when I said she looked hot in her glasses. There is something about a smart woman that does me in. I mean, I know Ever is smart. She went to Duke and Columbia. But with those glasses, let’s just say she could be my teacher anytime. I snicker to myself even thinking along those lines. Ever wouldn’t give me the time of day, knowing what she does about my bachelor lifestyle. Particularly the way I threw it in her face about f**king Brenda that night...hard. I have no clue what possessed me to say that, but I didn’t miss the way her nostrils flared when I said it. I have no clue whether that was disgust or desire, but it was certainly a reaction.
After she finishes cleaning, we both decide to get the run out of the way. She’s changed into a pair of shorts and a sports top that molds nicely to her curves. I can tell by the quality of her shoes that she’s not a novice runner. Her hair is braided down her back and I hate to admit that she looks beautiful even getting ready to get her sweat on.
We take off and run companionably through an older neighborhood near my condo. I have to shorten my strides up a bit so she can keep up but I don’t mind. It’s nice having company, even if it’s quiet. I point out a few things to her as we run but I don’t waste precious oxygen on talk.
Just as we are starting our fourth mile, Ever stumbles beside me and starts to limp.
“Ouch...ouch...ouch...”
“What’s wrong?” I keep running in place to keep my heart rate up.
“I have a charley horse.” She limps around in a circle, bending intermittently to massage her calf. “I’m sorry...go finish your run and I’ll meet you back at the condo.”
I think about finishing on my own but she looks to be in some serious pain. Instead, I walk over to her and sweep her up in my arms. She gives a half startled yelp but then moans as her calf muscle hardens again.
Laying her on the grass of someone’s front yard, I kneel down and take her leg in my hands. I’m embarrassed that my first thought isn’t about her injury but rather that her skin is as soft as it looks. She lays back and drapes her arm across her forehead. I can see the muscle knotted and start to gently massage it.
“Damn, that hurts,” she groans.
“I know. Just bear with me and we’ll get it worked out.”
“I can’t believe this happened. I’ve never cramped up like that before.”
I can feel the knot loosening but I continue to work at it, going a little harder the more pliable it becomes. There’s no way she’ll be able to finish the run though.
“How often to do you normally run?”
She leans up on her elbows to watch me working her leg. Those aqua eyes are watching me with interest. “I usually run five times a week but only about three miles. But I know I can do five. I used to run cross country in high school.”
“Maybe you’re a little dehydrated. Do you think you can stand and stretch it out a bit?”
She nods at me and I help her up. She gingerly puts some weight on it and seems to do okay. She takes a moment and stretches the calf, and I use the opportunity to admire her movements. She’s so much shorter than I am but she’s got a natural grace about her. I would actually peg her as some sort of dancer. Her actions are fluid and timeless, supporting that sort of ethereal beauty that I’ve come to recently appreciate.
“I’m good,” she says as she steps out onto the road. “I think we can head back. I can probably even run it.”