Page 32 of Rootbound
Before that train of thought gets away from me, I throw on my headphones and change into some workout shorts and set out to get a nice long jog in so I can mentally map out a plan. I start out running circles around the pond since I’m not interested in breaking an ankle on any of the otherterrain.
On my third lap, Henry opens his door and Belle comes out and jogs alongside me. I eventually lose track of how many circles I run, the heat stifling.
I even forget that Henry is sitting on his porch, watching us. I definitely don’t pick up speed whenever we are passing him, or try to remember my form, nor do I try to not appear winded and ready to quit…I am definitely doing all of that. What is wrong with me?
“Dinner!” he shouts, and Belle happily picks up speed and bounds for the house. I actually have worked myself into exhaustion, though, emotions replaced with the need to catch my breath. I slow to a walk.
“You too, if you’re interested?” Henry calls down to me. I look down at myself, covered in sweat and dust.
“I’m gross, but thank you.”
“You’re not, and it’s already after six, and whatever concoction you planned to throw together would probably take hours based off what you bought earlier. It’s up to you, but I’ve got steaks and salad.”
My mouth waters.
And since I need to go over my newly hatched plan of attack with him anyway…
I can justify it.
He sees me change directions to the stairs and throws me one of those smiles again. I’m sure I’m already red with exertion, but I feel the heat flood my face further. I’m—the warm-blooded female in me, that is—just a sucker for a good contradiction. And those stupid dimples on his otherwise rugged face are what make my body react. It’s a reflex. Like seeing cute, cuddly Jim from the office as rugged, smokeshow Jack Ryan. Eclipsing these images together is… effective. He looks freshly showered, in jeans and barefoot,with a white T-shirt on that once again shows off the nicest arms on a man that I’ve ever seen… a vein snakes the expanse of his left one, and my fingers practically itch with the desire to glide down it, to push on it and slide, feeling how much the flesh might give beneath my touch.
I take another appraising look down at myself when he turns to head inside. I don’t sweat cute, and the combination of the heat and the desire to run the anxiety out have resulted in a good mess. I do a quick, conspicuous nose swipe towards my shoulder and send up a prayer of thanks that I at least put on deodorant.
I take off my shoes and peel off the sweaty socks, leaving them outside on the porch. His house is mercifully cooler, but all I see is one ceiling fan. He’s got music playing from somewhere, the smells from the grill out back drifting in and making my mouth water even more.
“How is your place so much cooler?” I ask, which makes him wince apologetically.
“I installed an HVAC system in this one a few years back.” Damn. Lucky.
“I’m going to go wash up real quick,” I tell him, and he nods, grabbing two beers from the fridge and tipping one my way in offering.
“Sure,” I say before I pad off to the bathroom.
The temptation to stay in the bathroom of dreams is immediately real, but I hear Grady’s voice through the door.
“I rang Tait’s doorbell a couple times to bring her some of Em’s cookies. I forgot about the Diana Ross by the way—and I forgot how funny Gretchen thought she was—sorry, anywhoooo, Tait didn’t answer but the truck’s there.”
“She’s here.”
“Ooh, I see. Interrupting date night?”
“What? No.”
“You know, youcandate. Everyone knows that you go off the ranch and get laid once a month. Since we never meet any of these lucky gals I’m guessing they’re one-offs.”
I can practically feel Henry’s glare through the door, even when it’s not directed at me.
“Alright, alright. I’m just saying is all.”
I choose that moment to head out and feign mild surprise at seeing Grady.
“Oh, Tait! Hey, you look… sweaty. Been exerting yourself?” Grady says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Henry sets down the knife that he’s using to chop up vegetables with an exasperated sigh and throws Grady another look. I brush past it.
“Did I overhear something about cookies?”
“Ohhh yes. These are Em’s BTS cookies—just wait until you try one.”