One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,43
hit the pavement early on Saturday. I don’t want to marinate in what-ifs or what-happens-nexts.
Reid joins me on the running path with a quick nod and a “Morning.”
“Good morning to you,” I say, and we take off.
He’s a cyclist first and foremost, but now he’s training for a marathon, and though I have no interest in that kind of long-distance event, running is good for lacrosse, and lacrosse is good for my soul. Once a week, I join him on his shorter runs.
“Good morning, eh?” he asks. “That’s an awfully chipper greeting for you. Normally you’re only up for a few grunts.”
“It is Saturday, ergo . . .”
“Ah, I’m sure that’s it. That has to be it,” he says in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
But we hit our stride, and as we do, we talk less, exchanging only a few words, the occasional commentary about goings-on in the city, client updates, and the like. The quick pace and focus keep my mind entirely where it should be.
On the present. Only on the present.
If I linger on last night with Lola, I’ll be studying a jigsaw puzzle that’s missing too many parts, trying to link up pieces that don’t fit together and, frankly, don’t need connecting.
When we’re done, we agree to meet up again in thirty minutes to head to the coffee shop.
And when we do, I can’t avoid the topic of last night any longer, since Reid dives right into it with renewed vigor.
“About that good morning.”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” I ask wryly.
“That or you’re remarkably easy to read. So . . . inquiring minds want to know.” He leaves the statement hanging there on Madison Avenue as we walk, passing a hot dog vendor who’s already serving at this early hour.
“About what came before the big bang?” I toss out, dodging and darting. “Or if there’s life after death? Or whether, say, a hot dog counts as a sandwich?”
“A hot dog is definitely not a sandwich. That’s an affront. As for the other queries, especially on the topic of bangs, we’ll have plenty of time to debate those. What I want to know right now is this—how did last night go, and is it responsible for your good morning?” he asks, imitating my too-bright tone.
“That’s the problem with friends. They know you too well,” I say.
“I’ll try harder to be an enemy, then. That work for you?”
“Yes. Good plan. My business partner, my enemy,” I say, like it’s a new movie title. Then I answer him diplomatically. I don’t want to spend too much time diving into last night. Not for my head, and not for my heart. It’s easier to keep the conversation simple. Especially since this guy can sniff a lie like a bloodhound. “Everything is ticking along. We found two of the five items, and we know where to go for the third one. I think we’ll finish everything by tonight, so I’ll be back on track with work then.”
He rolls his eyes. “I mean with the woman. The one you pretend to hate.”
“Ah, her. Well . . .” I don’t say anything more as we cross the street. Maybe he’ll lose the scent.
“So you nailed her?”
I whirl around, stopping in my tracks outside a souvenir shop, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t talk that way about her,” I say sharply, my muscles tensing.
Reid laughs. The bastard laughs. Clutching his belly. Pointing at me. “Oh, that’s brilliant. That’s bloody fucking brilliant. It took basically less than three seconds to get you to admit it.”
Rubbing my hand across my jaw, I grumble, “I didn’t admit it.” But hell, I did. He got me, and he knows it.
He pumps a fist. “You did. And I knew you were still into her. Bet that’s why you didn’t mind Rowan asking you to pick up his dirty laundry.”
“For the record, I didn’t know she was a part of the whole wild-goose chase at first.”
“Details, details,” he says as we resume our pace. “She’s clearly the reason for your good morning.”
“From here on out, you will only ever get surly greetings.”
“Fine by me. But the greeting wasn’t how I got the truth out of you. Also,” he says, like a dog refusing to let go of his prized toy monkey, “congratulations.”
I wave a hand dismissively, ready to erase this conversation. “Not necessary.”
“Aww, who’s the sensitive one now? Want me to play ‘You Need to Calm Down’ by my girl Taylor?”