“It’s not like that,” she said, clutching the coffee cup even tighter now. “I’m trying to tell you in person, not over text, that we absolutely can’t keep doing this anymore.”
“Then don’t do it,” he said.
“Me?” Her jaw dropped. “You’re the one who followed me into the conference room. I’m trying to tell you—we can’t.”
His lips quirked up at the corners. Damn that smile. “I don’t remember you complaining so much when I had to cover your mouth to keep you from screaming my name.”
There. Her cheeks. She didn’t just flush—she flamed.
“That’s not—” she sputtered.
He took a step closer, glancing behind him to see the runners coming back from their route.
“Do you want to know what I think?” he whispered as the group began their stretches.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re going to tell me anyway?” she mumbled into the steam of her cup, not looking at him.
“I think you came here because you wanted to see me. I think you spent all week agonizing about whether to text me again, and you came all this way at the crack of dawn not to tell me off, but to tell me something entirely different.”
“I told you why I came,” she said. But her voice was quiet, not how she usually sounded, and she was still looking down.
He reached out and lifted her chin so he was looking into her eyes, dark and liquid in the clouds. She was beautiful. Early in the morning, sleep in her eyes, smell of coffee and damp leaves all around them. She was absolutely beautiful.
He wanted to kiss her right then. Press his lips to hers, close his eyes, and never stop.
The feeling caught him off guard, making him stagger back like he’d lost his balance. He saw her eyes narrow at him, as though his thoughts had flashed right across his forehead for the world to know.
Or maybe she was just confused because he was acting like an idiot, like he could barely keep himself upright. And there was no reason for that.
Is there?
He grabbed her coffee cup from her, his fingers brushing hers, and took a sip, pressing his mouth where hers had just been. “Come on,” he said. “We’re doing interval runs around the reservoir. No one’s running for speed, though. You can walk as much as you want.”
Her eyes popped. “No,” she said as soon as she realized what he was suggesting.
“What’s the rule about running club?” Noah turned and called out to the group now assembled behind them.
“All you have to do is keep moving!” everyone shouted in unison.
“Doesn’t have to be fast, doesn’t have to be pretty, but your feet have to leave the ground,” he said to Amanda. “You’re here anyway.”
To the group, he said, “Guys, we have a new runner today. This is Amanda, and she’s not a morning person. I’d say be nice to her, but she’ll probably bite my head off.”
She turned to him sharply. “Did I ever tell you that I hate you?”
“A dozen times this week alone. But now you have peer pressure.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her reaction. The group was getting impatient, calling for her to join them, promising to start slow.
He wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Punch him in the nose? Dump coffee all over him and storm off? Never speak to him again?
But she laughed.
It was such a surprise that he laughed, too, and called for everyone to circle up. Weirdly, he wasn’t so cold anymore, and the day didn’t seem quite so gray. At least Amanda hadn’t bothered with the boots this morning, opting for pretty kick-ass sneakers instead. She probably thought she was just throwing on something fast to get herself out the door, but it had been the right choice.
Had she meant for this to happen? Was it all a coincidence? Was he kidding himself completely?
He couldn’t say, but he wasn’t sure it mattered. All he knew for certain was how much he was going to love making her sweat.
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda was dying.
That was all there was to it. She’d had a nice time circling the sun all these years, but now her time was up.
That was the only thing she could conclude from how her heart was pounding and her legs were aching. Every muscle she had was screaming, plus a few muscles she’d never known existed. Pretty soon, they were bound to give out.
She was going to die, and then she was going to kill Noah for doing this to her, and then she was going to drop dead again.
“You can do it,” he urged her, keeping her painfully slow pace stride for stride long after the other runners had finished.
“No, I can’t,” she spat. It was a waste of breath to choke the words out, but that didn’t stop her.
“You have to tell yourself you can. You have to believe.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Anything worth doing takes effort.”
You’re not a fucking motivational poster, she wanted to scream. But that would take too much effort, and she didn’t have any to spare.
“Run to that tree,” he told her.
She looked where he was pointing. Somehow, gasping, she made it. But just when she was about to stop and fling herself down, he kept going. “Now run to that post.”
“You fucking liar. I hate you.” But she kept doing it, if only because she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her quit.
“Pretend you’re being chased by zombies in that game of yours,” he said.
“First of all, you’re on the zombies’ side in Brain Gobblers,” she panted. “And second…”
“What?” he asked when she couldn’t continue.
“Just shut up and let me die in peace,” she grumbled. Brain Gobblers was fun. This was torture. Did Noah enjoy anything? Or did he only find new ways to make himself suffer?
She wanted to ask him what the point of any of this was when she rounded the corner to a volley of cheers. Everyone was clapping and shouting for her. Crap, they were way too happy about this. They didn’t even know her, but they couldn’t stop waving her on.
“Final stretch,” Noah told her. But she had zero gas left in her tank. He pushed ahead, trying to set an example or something. Amanda would have stopped in her tracks…except for one definite benefit she noticed as soon as he pulled in front. It might have been the only perk of this hellfire misery thing called running. But it was a good one.
Noah’s ass in those pants.
Sure, she’d appreciated it in jeans. And she couldn’t deny the role those goddamn running pants had played in making her lose her mind at her office. But it was different to see them in action.
His long legs made it look effortless as he propelled his body forward, his arms by his sides, shirt clinging to his back muscles with each step.
Nothing about this felt effortless to her. She wanted to stop and lie down in the grass right there. She had stopped a whole bunch of times. Wasn’t Noah’s rule that she just had to keep moving, even if she walked?
But Amanda didn’t want to walk this last stretch. Not while everyone was watching and cheering. And not while Noah’s ass got farther and farther ahead.
So she gritted her teeth and pumped her arms and made herself do it. As she came gasping to the makeshift finish line, she had to admit that it actually felt kind of good to have kept going. Not only because Noah’s ass was highly motivating, but because there was something to be said about not giving up or taking the easy way out. She may be dying, but she’d done it. The cheers were genuine, and it was hard to be grumpy about the ungodly hour and the miserable weather and how much everything hurt when the people around her were just happy to be there.
So, fine. Maybe Noah wasn’t the worst person she’d ever known—even though that’s exactly what she called him as the group disbanded and she stayed, stretching her quad
s. Because her muscles were killing her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk for days.
But also because, just maybe, she didn’t want to take off and leave. Noah was right—she’d obviously come here to see him. So what was she supposed to do now?
Call him an asshole, apparently. Which gave him the biggest shit-eating grin, like he’d legitimately enjoyed torturing her for the last hour. For all she knew, he probably had.
“Admit it,” he said. “You had fun.”
“Only reluctantly.”
He raised his palms. “I’ll still count that as a win. I’m used to people hating me at my job, you know.”
“You’re good at it, though.”
“Being hated?” He gave her a look.
She laughed. “No, I mean you’re good at coaching.”
“Is that…oh my God…a compliment? From Amanda Perkins’s mouth?” He clutched his chest.
“You know plenty of things my mouth is capable of,” she teased and was pleased to see she could disarm him so easily—even if she was a sweaty mess and he looked like he’d done nothing more than stroll through the park.
Even if as soon as she said the words, she knew she shouldn’t have.
It was the exact opposite of why she’d come here and the things she was supposed to have said. Her speech about not doing this anymore. About the five weeks until he left and her friendship with Luke and what was going on with his feelings for his ex, anyway? It all added up to one simple fact: it was better for everyone if they backed away and allowed this to fizzle out rather than crash and burn.
Everything sounded good and right and sensible and smart in her mind—until she found herself standing in the drizzling rain, quads burning, face flushed, hair a mess of flyaways…and only wanted to stand closer.
“When do you have to be at work?” he asked.
She laughed. “I’m not usually up by now. And some jerk let the rest of my coffee get cold and then brutalized me for an hour. So honestly, I’m leaning toward taking the day off and heading back to bed.”
“Get breakfast with me.”
The laugh died in her throat. She hadn’t realized that was why he was asking.
“Seriously?”
“You need to refuel.”
“That’s what coffee is for.”
He shook his head. “Real food. My treat.” He paused. “Why are you looking at me like there’s a catch here?”
Because there’s always a catch. A slow fade. The ghosting from Gregg. The “I’m not feeling a connection anymore” text from another guy she’d gone out with, twelve hours after they’d agreed to be exclusive. Her father, making a vow he broke as soon as something shiny came along. Luke himself, keeping her on the hook just enough to make her think there was a chance.
But somehow, looking up at that one dimple, all the anger and hurt fell far behind her. All she could think about was the feeling in her chest, the looseness of her limbs. Something unlocking inside her.
Noah was right. She was starving. And even if he was putting on his jacket, covering up those sweaty pecs, she couldn’t say no to seeing more of his legs in those pants. The coffee was just the caffeinated cherry on top.
It didn’t matter what they’d texted each other before or what she’d come here intending to say. She couldn’t lie anymore and say she wanted this to be over.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. And then she plunged. “I’m in.”
Chapter Fifteen
Noah carried the frittatas from the counter while Amanda grabbed their coffees. It was his regular place to stop in when he had time between clients—good food, filling servings, not too expensive, and no one cared how long he stayed.
Only when the barista said, “Hey, runner!” and started filling his usual order without Noah having to open his mouth did he realize it was maybe a bad move to bring a date—or a not-date—to his favorite hideaway in the city, where he went at the same times on the same days and ordered the exact same thing.
What if she started coming there? What if things faded or went scarily bad, and then he couldn’t escape her through Luke and couldn’t have a moment of peace in his downtime, either?
He shook the thought out of his head, nearly sliding her goat cheese frittata off the plate in the process. Moving, remember? There wasn’t a risk of showing her his routine, because in less than five weeks, it wouldn’t be his routine anymore.
A thought that filled him with even more panic, so that he had to save not only her frittata but also his from going splat. How could he hang out with her like this, take her out for breakfast, feel himself light up at seeing her again—if it was ending so soon? He should be pulling away from his clients, the city, and from her, looking ahead the way he’d been doing every day for the last four months. Not finding ways to get closer.
But it turned out the only thing he needed to worry about right now was the look on Amanda’s face as she tried not to laugh when he picked up his order.
“I take it you come here often?” she said, sliding into the booth across from him.
“Mondays and Thursdays,” he said.
“A creature of habit.”
He paused before answering. Was she mocking him, the way she and Luke teased each other all the time?
But no—she was smiling. Genuinely. It turned out he liked the way she smiled. Especially when she was red-cheeked, hair messy, perfectly herself. So he said, “Yeah, I guess so. I like knowing what’s coming next.”
“How’d you get into running, anyway?” she asked, reaching for the salt, and Noah felt himself exhale. Definitely not making fun of him, then. He realized suddenly that this was the most time they’d spent alone together. Or rather, alone with their clothes on. Not that they’d ever come completely off, but the idea held.
The two of them. Talking over breakfast. It was so…normal. Date-like. So not what they did.
“It was in high school,” he said. “I never thought of myself as some kind of athlete. Luke and I—well, I’m sure he’s told you stuff.”
Amanda nodded, although she didn’t elaborate on what that “stuff” might have been. He had no idea if Luke might have exaggerated or downplayed the kind of shit they got into as kids. It was weird, wondering what she might already know about him. What she already thought.
“Luke’s not here,” she said. “I’m not comparing notes between the two of you. I’m not going to run back and report to him. You can talk to me.”
“We got into some trouble. Single mom, dad claiming to pay child support but mostly out of the picture, trying to raise twin boys by herself. Maybe if we’d been better kids.” He smiled, more to himself than to Amanda.
“You can’t have been all bad.”
“We got into some shit,” he said.
She fixed him a look. “You mean Luke got into some shit.”
He looked away uncomfortably. He wasn’t here to shove his brother under the bus. “It was both of us,” he said with conviction. “I did it, too. Dumb stuff, mostly. Skipping school. Our mom’s a real estate agent, so we always knew what houses would be empty. The ones with pools were the best. Even when it was winter, Luke always wanted to break into the houses with pools. Pretend we lived there.” He laughed but not from remembering anything funny. It wasn’t.
“The houses were staged, so it wasn’t like there was much in there. It wasn’t like we could feel like we were living someone else’s life. But still—they were nice places.”
Amanda nodded. “Clean. Good furniture. I know what you mean.”
“Luke didn’t trash the places, exactly. But I always went back to clean up. Make it spotless. He never seemed to grasp that our mom would’ve been fucked if anything was out of line. If we ever got caught.”
“Did you?”
He shook his head. “We were lucky, I know. But we we
re smoking once on school property, which you weren’t allowed to do, and our math teacher, this huge guy who used to be some local football star until he got too many concussions—which, I’ll have you know, for sure had an impact on his ability to add—” Amanda laughed. “So he found us, and we took off tearing out of there, obviously. Like he wouldn’t know it was us. Like there were all sorts of other twin guys it could’ve been.”
He rolled his eyes, picking at his frittata, feeling the way Amanda looked at him. Looked at him, through him, listening in a way he’d never known her to listen before. Listening the way maybe no one ever had.
Although perhaps that was because he never talked like this, told this story. He just said, “I ran track in high school,” spun some half-truth about how he was good, really good, but injury stopped him from taking it further, until he realized he could get back into it enough to do what he really wanted—which wasn’t to run for himself, but to coach other people and help them love it the way he did.
None of that was untrue. He’d never tell an outright lie. But it was a flimsy truth, one that didn’t contain the whole weight of himself and his story.
A boring story, maybe. But one Amanda was listening to nonetheless.
“The guy chased us, and we got away, jumped some fences, thought the whole thing was a riot, and forgot about it. Until I get pulled into the principal’s office and my math teacher is there and this other guy I don’t know, who turned out to be the track coach.” He shrugged, smiled halfway, remembering it. They’d made him a deal. Not much of a deal—it wasn’t like one suspension could kill him. It hadn’t harmed Luke in any noticeable way.
But Noah got nervous. His mom always told him to keep an eye on his brother, and he hadn’t. So he’d said okay. No disciplinary action if he joined the track team for the rest of the season and put in an honest effort. They’d both been fast—fast enough to impress the hell out of the teachers, at least. But only Noah had agreed to the deal.
“Luke was always smart,” he explained. “Nothing stuck to him. He got detentions, a few other suspensions. But his grades were passable without him needing to go to class anyway.” He laughed. “I guess I could have coasted, too. But running—”
Wrong Bed, Right Brother (Accidental Love) Page 9