by Rachel Lee
“Hi, Lucas!” Jocelyn called out. “Hi, Mr. Grady!”
“Call me Kieran, would you?” The man had perfected the scowl.
No wonder she didn’t come their way; instead she waved and headed off down the street. Lucas watched, remembering how he couldn’t get her out of his mind last night. He could definitely get used to kissing Jocelyn on a regular basis.
Her narrow hips swayed rhythmically with each stride. He knew if she headed north, she’d take the route they’d run the other night. But she headed south today, so she was probably going over to the park and into the cross-country trails, the same ones the school track team used for longer runs. He remembered that Jocelyn liked routine, and she probably knew exactly how many miles she’d clock today. Yeah, she was heading to the cross-country trails. Too bad he couldn’t go with her.
“Whoa, whoa, w’oh!”
Just in time, Lucas glanced back at his father, off balance and on his way down. He bolted for him. “I got you!” It took all his strength, but Lucas was damned if he was going to let his father hit the pavement because he’d been ogling his next-door neighbor. Even if it was Jocelyn Howard.
* * *
Jocelyn took the steady incline of the jogging path with precision. First one foot then the other, focused, charged with energy, up she went. She’d loved the Gandyville five-mile cross-country path since she’d first run it in high school. This morning it was the perfect distraction from thinking about Lucas Grady.
How could she not think about him? Last night, she’d carelessly thrown herself into his arms and kissed him with the passion she’d been bottling up since she’d first seen Leo kiss Kate in Titanic. Sure, she’d had a good reason: They’d earned $15,000 for the track program and could buy new and badly needed sports equipment, not to mention replace the threadbare maroon and gold track and warm-up uniforms. All their hard work had paid off, and she’d done it! She hadn’t screwed up. Somehow, everything had fallen into place and the event had been a huge success. A few anonymous “angel” donations had helped propel them to the goal. And success felt sweet.
So had the kiss.
Thinking about locking lips with Lucas made her cheeks warm. She took a swig of water from the bottle hanging at her waist, then hit the challenge of the next incline with added vigor. Thinking about Lucas and last night’s kiss, she had a lot of excess energy to work off today.
That kiss. It’d felt hard and soft all at once. And thrilling. She’d tingled in places she never thought could tingle. In front of God and practically the entire school, she’d catapulted into his arms and laid one on him, finally touching him, tasting him, and the amazing thing was...he’d kissed her back. Unlike that little peck on the lips the other night, this kiss had zinged right down to her toes.
Had she ever come close to being this charged and lit up after kissing Rick?
She fished out her cell phone and checked how long she’d been running. Not nearly long enough. This victory lap needed to be long and consuming. She needed to wear herself out so that all of her energy got zapped, and it would take every ounce of concentration to get her mind off her sore muscles, or she’d never be able to stop thinking about Lucas Grady today.
With her face burning and thighs tingling, she pressed on, up and over the small hill. On the steep downside in the middle of the path, her shoe grazed and slid off a rock, twisting her foot and sending a sharp burn up her ankle. Off balance, her arms thrashed and sliced the air on a forward lunge. As if in slow motion, she swam along, helpless to stop the fall. Her cell phone slipped through her fingers and launched into the air.
She felt her palms hit the sharp gravel first, stinging but breaking the fall. Next her chin and right shoulder crashed down. Air pushed from her lungs, making an oomph sound. Her knees struck the ground with a thud, small pebbles slicing into the skin, shin bones grinding the earth when she landed. She rolled down the path, her right side taking the brunt of the fall. The burn in her ankle seared up her leg. Several points of pain made themselves known as she lay stunned, flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her.
After a few moments, recovering her breath and beginning to put her thoughts back together, she lifted and examined her shredded palms. Raising her head, she saw bleeding knees and could tell that swelling had already set in. She slowly rotated her tight and thickening ankle and, though it hurt like hell, gratefully realized that it probably wasn’t broken. After glancing again at her mangled knees, she dropped her head back on the ground with a groan.
“Crap!”
A faint beep-beep-beep in the distance let her know she’d received a text message. The sound seemed to come from the ravine over by a tree—where her cell phone had landed.
Now what?
* * *
Lucas tapped on Jocelyn’s front door with a lame excuse. His mother was so thrilled to have her cast off, she’d made a huge Tex-Mex lunch and insisted he invite Jocelyn over to celebrate last night’s success. He saw the gesture for what it was—blatant matchmaking—and where he may have protested in the past, today he was actually grateful. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, so the thought of spending extra time with her had a certain appeal.
He’d called over the fence first but hadn’t gotten a response. He’d texted her, too. Now he knocked on the front door again, and when no one came, he looked through the garage window and saw her car. It occurred to him she might still be running.
Two hours? That was a heck of a long run, even for her. A thread of worry twined through his mind and he made a snap decision.
He ran back inside his house long enough to put on his jogging shoes and grab the car keys. “Mom, hold off on lunch. Jocelyn’s missing and I’m going to find her.”
Several minutes later he parked at the base of Gandyville and cut the car engine. He’d never forgotten the well-worn and grueling cross-country path where his father used to regularly take the team. In those days, Coach Dad had run along with them, and often faster than his students.
Lucas couldn’t know for sure if this was where Jocelyn had come, but his gut told him to check here first. A couple other cars were in the lot, and he knew hikers and off-road cyclists also enjoyed the hills. Maybe they’d seen her.
All he could hope for was that if Jocelyn were here, she’d stayed on the old path. Otherwise, he didn’t have a clue how to find her.
He’d kept his eye out for her on the drive over but hadn’t seen any runners. This was his only plan, and he could make a huge fool out of himself scouring the hills for nothing. Maybe she was already home. Maybe she’d been in the shower when he knocked on the door. For all he knew she could be having lunch with a friend. He tried her cell phone one last time. No answer.
He got out of the car, not bothering to warm up, and hit the beginning of the trail loop.
* * *
Jocelyn rolled onto her knees, paying the price with a surge in pain and stinging. After wrangling with balance and more pain, she managed to stand on her one good leg. She hopped across the path and fell against a tree, hoping to spot her cell phone. No such luck. By her estimation she was half a mile out from the end of the trail. She shaded her eyes and scanned the nearby hills. No one seemed to be around. In the distance she spotted a hiker or two, but they were too far away to hear her if she called out. She took the chance and tried anyway.
“Hello! Help! I’m over here!” Nothing. She took a swig of water from her waist pack to quench her dried throat and tried again. “Hello!”
She hopped from under the tree to a large boulder on the other side of the path. The view from this direction didn’t produce any hikers or bicyclists, either. Where was everyone today?
She tested putting weight on her foot. A hot poker seared up the inside of her calf. It felt like a sprained ankle. Then she hopped to the next rock. The burst of Latin samba drums and whistles alerted her to her phone ringing. It sounded nearby...in the ditch. Nope, she’d resist the temptation of going after it, instead memorizing the tre
e and planning to come back at another time for the phone. She’d hop and limp her way back down the path until she found somebody to help her.
* * *
Lucas tucked his cell phone in his T-shirt pocket when he came to the fork in the trail. Jocelyn still wasn’t answering. He took off running, eyes sweeping every nook and crevice for her. He thought about cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting her name but decided to hold off for now. On he went, and after a sharp turn he spotted her a couple hundred yards out. The rush of relief almost knocked him off balance. He stabilized himself, rushing onward.
“Hey!” he yelled at Jocelyn hobbling down the path. What the hell?
“Lucas!” She stopped and leaned against a rock.
He sprinted toward her, his pulse pounding in his ears. Coming close, she didn’t need to explain what had happened; her bloody knees and messed-up ankle told the story. She’d obviously taken a header.
“When you weren’t home, I took a chance on the old cross-country path,” he said when he finally reached her, breathless and happy as hell he’d listened to his gut instinct. He assessed her head to foot, noting her injuries. “Man, you’re a mess.”
“I know.”
“Want to explain what you were doing out here all by yourself without a cell phone?”
“Cell’s in a ditch back there,” Jocelyn answered. He looked behind her, contemplating looking for it. He was game, but she shook her head. “I just want to go home.”
“Tell you what, you can explain everything later. Let’s get you home so I can clean you up,” he said, having no intention of letting her lean on him and limp the rest of the way to the parking lot. Instead, he swooped in and scooped her up without protest and headed down the path toward the car with her secure in his arms.
Chapter Seven
Jocelyn’s protests went unheard. Lucas would have nothing to do with her limping her way into the house. He’d parked in her driveway and picked her up from the passenger seat, carrying her like a newlywed toward the bridal suite. Locked in the cradle of his strength, she almost forgot her ankle hurt like hell.
“This isn’t necessary. You’ll injure yourself,” she said.
“I’ve carried two-hundred-pound soldiers over my shoulders. You’re skinny. Now shut up and get out the house key.”
Nestled close against him, she caught the scent of soap tamped down by the hours of the day. Lingering hints of aftershave, with just enough effects from the sun mixed in from looking for her, gave him a total “guy smell.”
He’d searched for her and had come to her rescue—how romantic was that? She wanted to nuzzle her face into his neck, but that was a bad idea. Anyhow, he’d given her a simple assignment—unlock the door.
She fished inside the waist pack as Lucas lowered her just enough to put her even with the lock. It was as if doing arm curls at the gym, and his strength surprised her. Lucas wasn’t bulky like Rick had become; he was naturally strong with muscles earned from hard work—not by spending time with barbells. She’d noticed that long before today, and she really liked what she saw. And now, she definitely liked how it felt.
As she unlocked the door and he brought her inside, she tried not to fantasize about the significance of being carried over the threshold. Again, something much more exciting than a sprained ankle came to mind. What would it be like if...
He plopped her onto the couch, abruptly bringing her mind back to the present. “Thanks!”
Without asking, he lifted her injured leg and propped it up on two throw pillows, then headed to her kitchen. “Do you have an ice pack?”
“Yes. In the freezer.”
“How about a bandage?”
“In the front bathroom, under the vanity. I keep a first aid kit there.”
He closed the refrigerator like a typical guy, hard and loud. Then she heard drawers open and close and other cupboards clunked closed. What was he doing—making her lunch?
Lucas reappeared with a tall glass of water in one hand and the ice pack wrapped in a dishtowel in the other. “Here you go.” He handed her the water, then gingerly placed the ice on her propped-up ankle. “I found aspirin so I brought you a couple.” He dug into his T-shirt pocket and fished out two little pills. She took them as he headed off down the hall toward the front bathroom.
Through the distortion of the glass she watched him, enjoying the purposeful moves of a man on task. She lowered the glass to watch his broad shoulders and really cute rear end. Halfway down the hall he popped into the guest bedroom. She stretched her neck to keep him in her line of vision. Soon, he reemerged with a pillow, then continued down the hall for the first aid kit. A few seconds later, he placed a soft pillow behind her head.
“How’s that?”
“Great, but you don’t have to wait on...”
He shut her up with an index finger placed softly over her lips. Yikes, that stopped her from speaking, but it also had her wanting to shock him by sucking on it. What in the world was she thinking? Her ankle hurt like she’d been kicked by a horse, her knees burned and her palms ached. Not exactly the right setting for a girl to think those kinds of thoughts, but Lucas looking after her made the fine hair on her neck stand up, and, well, he was so darn close...and there was that tart trace of aftershave again.
“First,” he said, “I’m going to wrap this ankle before it has the chance to swell any more.” He removed her shoe, opened the cloth bandage and gently put her ankle through range of motion before rolling the stretchy bandage around her injury.
“It’s not broken,” she said, hoping her foot didn’t smell after her long run, yet knowing the odds were against all hope. At least she’d had a pedicure last week.
“Nope. Doesn’t look like it. Wiggle your toes for me.”
She did, and he smiled. What she’d give to read his mind.
She glanced over the abrasions on her legs and back at Lucas. “Dude, I’m mangled.”
“Totally thrashed, Joss.” He smiled again, as if he were proud of her road rash.
She enjoyed watching his long fingers and strong hands do the simplest of tasks. For a guy who regularly worked on his classic car, his hands and fingernails were clean and well cared for. She put her head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling to help get her mind off the many ways she adored Lucas. She’d be setting herself up for big disappointment going down that path. He didn’t want to be back in Whispering Oaks any more than his sister Anne had. Why couldn’t they see the beauty of their hometown and making a life here? Was there something wrong with her for wanting to stay and be the best teacher she could be?
“There you go,” Lucas said, finishing the wrap by lightly patting her calf before putting the ice pack back in place.
The touch took her right out of her thoughts and back into his hazel eyes. “Thanks.”
“No worries. Now, I’ll need a basin and a washcloth.”
Her head came off the pillow as she drew her brows together. “You don’t need...”
There went the finger on the lips again. This time she snapped at it and he yanked his finger away with a playful nod and an unidentifiable glint in those yummy eyes. “Let me remind you that you’re at a serious disadvantage.”
She tried to sock his arm but missed. Go ahead. Take advantage. I’m okay with that. “All the stuff you need is in that front bathroom.”
“You should be grateful,” he said, swaggering away.
Oh, she was grateful, all right. “That you saved the day? Thanks. But hey, I would have made it home somehow.”
“I know ’cause you’re the can-do girl, right?”
Right.
Within a couple of minutes he sat on the coffee table next to the couch with warm water in a basin and plain white soap. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation of soap irritating her already-burning knees.
“I promise to be gentle.” He nailed her with those heavy-lidded hazel-green eyes and all concerns left her mind while she became a puddle of cooperation. As he dip
ped the washcloth into the water, she couldn’t avoid staring at his mouth—the deep, pinky-width groove on his upper lip, how kissable it was.
He moved toward her and with his thumb and middle finger lifted her face. Anticipation rushed through her like a hidden spring. “I noticed you scraped your chin, too.”
He’d been blessed with a full lower lip that rested above his angular chin and begged to be kissed.
And she wanted to, right now. “Ouch!”
“Sorry if it burns, but we’ve got to clean up your cuts.” He dabbed at the abrasion under her chin with soap and water. “You don’t want to get an infection on top of everything else, right?” His eyes concentrated on the task, not her. All she could do was think about their kiss the other night and how much she wanted to do it again. Soon!
“Right,” she mimicked.
“You’ve got some deep gashes on your knees.” He moved out from the close proximity as if sensing her reaction to the intimate act of washing her chin. Did she have any effect on him?
“Gee, you think?” She covered her eyes with her hands, more to help her quit staring at his sexy mouth than out of any cowardly need. “I don’t want to watch.”
“Don’t be wussy.” He patted her thigh, and she quickly lost track of what she was worried about.
He finished the job of cleaning her cuts, skillfully washing each knee in turn and being surprisingly gentle about it, with not a clumsy bone in his hands. It stung, but for some reason she didn’t mind. He pulled one hand away from her eyes. “This needs cleaning, too.” Damn, his mouth was right in her eyeshot again as he pulled her palms toward him to examine them.
He ended the cleaning by fishing out some antibiotic ointment and dabbing it on her knees, then covering them with gauze and tape. Large square Band-Aids worked for her palms. Last he used a cotton swab to put the ointment on her chin. He dabbed away as she looked at him. Concentrating on the task, his soft breath tickled her neck. He lifted his head, eyes directly in line with hers. His irises had tiny brown and gold flecks in them and a dark outline around the cornea. Those gorgeous eyes also made her want to kiss him—everything about him. from the part in his hair to the small cut on his thumb, made her want to kiss him—and the goose bumps running down her arms were probably a dead giveaway.