Running Home to You (The Running Series)

by Sweeney, Suzanne

  “I don’t know,” Emmy argues, “I really love my Honda Civic. Maybe I’ll get an Accord this time.”

  “Are you car shopping, Emmy?” I ask.

  “Yup. My lease is almost up and it’s time for me to get a new car. What do you think, Jette?”

  “I’m totally with Reese on this one. The new Optimas look sharp. The white ones with the black roof are gorgeous,” I tell her. “But the Hondas are nice, too.”

  I’m really jealous of Emmy. If the restaurant keeps doing well like this, maybe I’ll be able to get a new car, too. We’ve only been open for about seven or eight weeks. It’s too soon to start thinking about spending all of my profits on something I don’t really need when my car, as ugly as it may be, still works perfectly fine.

  “Hey girls, did Marcus tell you about Ryker?” I ask.

  “Yeah, he did,” they both admit.

  “Personally, I think he was just trying to help,” Emmy says. “We asked him to get involved in our personal business, and now everybody freaks out when he says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing. I don’t think it’s fair.” She points to her brand new tattoo, “He designed this for me and he didn’t even get to see it. It bites, big time.”

  “Emmy, you think everything is simple, but it’s not. Jette did the right thing. You didn’t hear the crap he was saying about Evan in the kitchen with me. He thinks Evan is a piece of shit. After he saw Evan lose it that night, Ryker decided it’s now his job to protect Jette. It’s like she became his pet project or something,” Reese explains to Emmy as I stand there listening.

  “Sorry, but we put him in the middle and now everyone’s upset that he picked sides. That’s all I’m saying,” Emmy insists.

  “I don’t want to know what was said in the kitchen, so please don’t tell me. But let me just tell you this, Emmy. Ryker crossed the line. Period. End of discussion. He disrespected Evan, one of the owners of this restaurant. And if that’s not bad enough, I’m his boss, too, and he can’t just go following me around like that, hiding in the shadows. I’m not anyone’s pet project or mission.”

  “Okay, okay, I get it,” Emmy eventually admits. “Jette, can I use the phone in your office? I need to make a private call. It will only take a minute, I promise.”

  “Sure, Em – I hope nothing’s wrong,” I tell her.

  “Nah, I just have to make an appointment to get my teeth cleaned.”

  “Wait, before you go – do you guys mind if I leave early? Evan and I have a date tonight.”

  “No problem,” Reese says. “I already called Natalie to come in after dinner for a few hours to cover for you.”

  “How did you know I was leaving early? Did Evan call you? I don’t understand.”

  “He did. He called to ask me if I would stay with Auggie tonight. He said you wouldn’t be able to go back to take care of Auggie after your date.” Reese jabs me in the side with her elbow and makes goo-goo eyes at me.

  “Oh, shit. I forgot about Auggie. I was so excited about my date tonight, I didn’t even think about that. Evan’s really the most thoughtful man I’ve ever known, don’t you think?”

  Just then, Marcus walks in to break up the party. It seems we just got a rush of customers and he needs Emmy back behind the bar. Today’s my day to work in the kitchen with Reese. I’m on pastries and I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately in the front of house working with the customers. While I’ve enjoyed it for the most part, my passion is in the back of house.

  The hours fly by as Reese and I spend the entire day together. We crank our favorite music on the kitchen stereo and I get to practice my very best bake dancing moves with one of my best friends. We get the occasional visit from Emmy when things are slow, and I can honestly say that this is one of the best days I’ve had in a very long time.

  At seven o’clock, in the middle of the dinner rush, Marcus comes in the kitchen to get me. Apparently, there’s a delivery that I have to sign for. When I go out into the dining room, Emmy and Reese follow behind me. Something’s up, but I have no idea what.

  There’s a young man holding a large unmarked box. I sign for it, tip the messenger, and thank him as he turns and walks out.

  “Open it up, Jette. What is it?” Emmy demands.

  “You two are up to something, aren’t you?” They won’t admit anything to me, but the silly grins and giggles tell me all I need to know.

  I cut the tape sealing the box closed and open the flaps. When I look inside, I’m more confused than ever. There’s a small gift-wrapped box with a card on top of a pile of junk. I place the gift box on the bar and look a little more closely at the contents of the box. There’s an empty water bottle, receipts from work I’ve had done on the car, assorted used cans of car cleaner, a CD case, and a JWU sweatshirt – my sweatshirt. “I don’t understand. This is my junk from my car. What gives?” I look at Emmy and Reese for an explanation, but they won’t budge.

  “Open the present,” Emmy begs. She’s jumping up and down, barely able to conceal her excitement.

  Reese hands me the card, “Wait, read the card first,” she suggests.

  I open it up and find a pressed flower inside, a violet I think. I’ll have to look that one up later. There’s a hand-written card that reads,

  Dearest Juliette,

  I’ve donated your car to charity.

  You need a new car to reflect your new life and our new start.

  I love you.

  ~Evan

  I open the gift box, and there’s a key fob with a Kia symbol on the key ring. “Emmy, Reese, did you have something to do with this?”

  Emmy is bursting and she’s dying to tell me, “Evan called and asked us to find out what kind of car you liked. He had it narrowed down to two, and all we had to do is find out which one you liked better. I’m not getting a new car. We totally fooled you.” She gives Reese a high five. “Oh, yeah, and I’m not getting my teeth cleaned, either. I was calling Evan to tell him what you said.”

  “Well, don’t you want to go look?” Reese asks. The girls drag me outside, and parked in front of the restaurant is a brand new white Kia Optima with a black roof. And it’s mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Seeing Eye to Eye

  Driving to the beach house in my new car is a joy. It actually has ventilated seats that keep cool in the hot summer months. As with everything else, Evan has especially good taste in cars.

  When I enter the house, I find Evan toiling away in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on our romantic dinner. He’s tossing a Caesar salad, and when he sees me his face lights up and a slow, mischievous smile spreads across his face. “How was your drive home tonight?” he asks. The sudden flash of his smile stops me in my tracks.

  “Oh, Evan, the car is beautiful. Part of me wants to thank you and the other part of me wants to strangle you.” I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his waist. He tucks me under his arm and snickers at my remark.

  “Well, which part, exactly, wants to thank me?” He looks down at me with those thickly lashed big blue eyes and I lose all sense of what I wanted to say.

  “You know you shouldn’t have done it, Evan. It’s too much.”

  “Number one, that car of yours was a death trap. It was only a matter of time before that clunker broke down with you in it. I couldn’t stand the thought of you driving home alone at all hours of the night.”

  “But Evan, that car got me from ...”

  “Number two,” he doesn’t even let me finish, “it makes good business sense. We can write off the finance charges, the fuel, maintenance, and liability because it’s registered to the business.”

  “Oh, really? Is that what the accountant said?” I wonder.

  “He did. Know what else he told me?” Evan asks. I shake my head. “We did great our first month. June’s profits were phenomenal. He projects July’s profit/loss ratio will be stellar. That’s why he encouraged me to find some additional write-offs for the
business. We need to keep a healthy bottom line.” Evan swats me on the ass as his mouth curves into a perfect smile, both wicked and sensual at the same time. “And I fully intend to protect your bottom line, Juliette. I have plans for that bottom later.”

  As he stares down at me, my scowl dissolves along with my will power. I have no strength to resist this man or his charms. “Later? Why not right now?” My skin is already tingling and tightening expectantly at his words, craving the pleasure of his erotic torture.

  Evan takes my chin in his hand, and gently lifts my mouth to his. His firm lips move tenderly beneath mine. His tongue slips into my mouth, lightly touching and teasing mine, deceivingly unhurried. He groans into my mouth, sending sounds of pure pleasure and need slicing me to my core. Sounds I haven’t heard in far too long. With the desire for him nearly overwhelming, I deepen the kiss, our tongues madly seeking out the other, our breaths quickening. The arm he has wrapped around my waist slips beneath my shirt, caressing my bare skin with his warm touch. I arch into his embrace, needing the closeness and wanting the proof of our unbroken bond.

  “Evan, I ...” it’s nearly impossible for me to find the words to tell this man how much I need him and want him. How much I’ve missed him and how empty my life was without him.

  “I know,” he says. “You don’t have to say it. We have all night, baby. You’re not going anywhere. Not tonight.” I bury my face in his neck, close my eyes, and let him hold me. It feels so good to be home.

  “Come on, dinner’s almost ready. Let’s fill our stomachs first, and then we can quench our other needs later.” His words hang in the air. I’m so overwhelmed by this man, it’s nearly unbearable. I sit at the table out on the deck as requested, but it’s nearly impossible for me to be still. My nerve endings are on fire, both burning and aching at the same time. To calm myself, I pour a glass of the Syrah sitting on the table. Its woody richness satisfies my thirst and relaxes my tension.

  He’s taken great care to set the mood. The Eagles’ Greatest Hits are playing softly in the background and the table is set for a romantic dinner for two, complete with candles and a single red rose. Evan delivers the first course of our meal, a cool and crisp Caesar Salad. He knows it’s one of my favorites. “Evan, this is delicious. What kind of dressing did you use?”

  “I made the dressing. Nothing tonight is going to come from a bottle. Everything on the menu this evening will be prepared by these hands.” He takes the back of his hand and lovingly caresses my cheek. Oh. My. God. Is he trying to kill me? Instantly, I’m transformed back into a bundle of live wires with sharp jolts of electricity coursing through my body.

  After the first course is done, Evan brings out a perfectly seared pepper steak smothered in a creamy pepper sauce along with a small baked potato. Evan sits across from me, and I can’t help but reach over and run my toes up and down his leg. I need to feel him, to touch him, to have that connection. It feels like it did when we first began dating. I can’t be in the same room with this man without my body begging for his touch.

  I take one bite of the pepper steak and it’s every bit as tender and juicy as it looks. Evan’s a wonderful grill master. I’ve known this since our celebratory barbecue last spring, but this is way beyond my expectations. “Evan, where did you learn to prepare such an amazing sauce? My mouth is on fire, but I mean that in the best possible way.” I take a sip of Syrah to cool my burning taste in my mouth.

  “The funniest thing happened, actually. I was on the Internet looking up recipes, when there was a knock at the door. Ryker stopped by to drop off your sweater. He said he ran into you and the girls at the bar the other night and you left it behind.”

  Holy shit. I didn’t wear a sweater to the bar that night. “Evan, can I see the sweater? I just want to make sure it’s mine.”

  When he returns, the sweater he’s carrying most definitely belongs to me. It’s my Victoria’s Secret boyfriend sweater that I wore on my first date with Evan. I’m pretty sure that’s the sweater I keep in my office at work. Do I tell Evan he’s lying? Should I explain to him how Ryker followed me that night and stayed hidden in the shadows until he perceived I was in danger? If I do, our entire night could be ruined.

  “Is it yours?” he asks.

  “Yes it is. It was very nice of him to drop it off.” Nice isn’t the first word I would choose. Unsettling and disturbing come to mind. But the question burning in the back of my mind remains, why did he lie?

  “He helped me with this sauce. It only has five ingredients. It was real simple to make. Ryker’s a pretty good cook, isn’t he?”

  “He is,” I admit. After a few more bites, my appetite dissipates. I sit at the table quietly picking at what’s left of my pepper steak and pushing the food around on my plate.

  “What’s wrong, Juliette? I thought you were enjoying dinner.”

  “Oh, baby, everything is perfect. Absolutely perfect. I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately. There’s been so much going on, and so many things to worry about, my stomach has been in knots for weeks.” The recent developments with Ryker haven’t helped, either.

  “Well, I’m hoping we can put a lot of that behind us and move on. Do you want me to take your plate away?” he asks, looking at me with such devotion. His sculpted cheekbones and dark brown brows highlight the beautiful features of his face. I nod and he rises to clear our plates. “You sit tight, I have a few pans to clean, and then I’ll be right back with dessert.”

  “Do you mind if I get changed while you finish up? I’ve been in these same clothes all day. I’d like to put on something a little more comfortable before dessert.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I should have suggested it earlier. You’ll find that everything is exactly where you left it, Juliette.” He offers his hand to help me stand and with the other hand, pulls me in close. He kisses me sweetly, holding me gently as if I were a precious china doll that might break at the slightest touch. “Don’t be long,” he whispers softly in my ear.

  While Evan clears off the table, I grab my purse and head into the bedroom. Everything I need to change into is right here, in my bag.

  I slip out of my shorts and t-shirt and toss them into the hamper. Reaching into my bag, I find the small velvety gift box that I carefully hid inside. I open the box and remove the diamond teardrop earrings Evan bought me. I’ve only worn them once, at our Grand Opening. The thrill of putting them on again, for this private, intimate gathering of two, has my heart racing.

  I remove my hair from my pony and brush out my long brown hair that’s now highlighted in rich shades of caramel thanks to the summer sun. I allow my hair to fall carelessly across my shoulders and rest along my back.

  After I step out of my bra and panties, I slip on my red strappy stilettos. There’s something incredibly sensual about wearing a pair of high-heeled shoes like this. My entire posture changes the instant I stand up. The curve of my back dramatically shifts, and I can feel my chest stick out and my rear lift up. I’ve worn these shoes before, so I know I can move around gracefully. I take a few experimental steps towards the door, and I notice how my hair sweeps from side to side with each step I take. The feel of my wispy hair tickling the sensitive flesh of my exposed back is thrilling.

  The night of our Grand Opening, Evan expressed a wish that he could have me in just these earrings and heels. The least I can do after his generous gift and romantic dinner is to grant him this one small request. As I prepare to make my entrance, my body tingles with delight. I’m acutely aware of my breasts, which are already heavy and full at the mere thought of him touching me. Walking down the hallway, I can feel my heartbeat quicken as the warm throb in my lower abdomen returns.

  When I enter the kitchen, I find Evan standing over the stove, heating up something in a saucepan. I stop at the archway into the kitchen, leaning on the wall. Having heard my footsteps approach, Evan asks me without turning around, “Are you hungry, baby?”

  “Starving,” I growl.

&n
bsp; “Good, I ...” his words trail off as he turns around and spots me, standing there completely naked. He drops the wooden spoon back into the pot and turns off the burner on the stove, all the while, his focus remaining steadily on me. “Fuck.” His voice is deep and his breath is heavy, and I can see his physical response to me already pressing against the zipper of his jeans.

  I turn to the side, take a few dramatic steps across the floor, turn again, and walk back towards the bedroom. I move slowly and deliberately, waiting for Evan to follow behind. When I hear him turn the corner, I perform my best catwalk, lifting my feet dramatically off the ground with long, elegant strides. I place one hand on my hip and the other on the doorframe as I step into the bedroom.

  Evan is only a few steps behind, madly trying to remove his sneakers as he stumbles down the hallway after me. When I hear the second shoe hit the floor, I turn to look at him. I’m afraid of what could happen if he comes at me full force. We might tear each other apart. I put out one hand, signaling for him to stop, and he immediately obeys, freezing in his tracks. He almost growls my name, “Juliette,” making me tingle at the images it invokes: his flesh pressed against mine, our breaths rapid and needy. Butterflies begin to take flight in my stomach.

  In full control of this situation, I tell Evan to remove his shirt for me, “Slowly, so I can watch you.” When he lifts his shirt, revealing his glorious chest, I watch in delight as the sinewy muscles of his biceps stretch and flex.

  He tosses the shirt to the floor and asks, “Should I keep going?”

  “Wait,” I demand. I sit on the edge of the bed and cross my legs, dangling one stilettoed foot in front of me. “Turn around and take off your pants. Just your pants.”

  When Evan turns, the vision of his broad shoulders have me instantly wet and needy. When he slips out of his jeans, he turns and faces me, wearing nothing but his gray boxer briefs, stretched beyond its capacity by the fullness of his erection pressing to be free.