Still The One - Carrie Elks Page 0,18

this.”

She shook her head, trying not to laugh at his mock-horrified expression. “It’s okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her hand and curling it around his bicep. “Guns of steel, babe.”

Her fingers dug into his hot, taut skin, feeling the iron of his muscles underneath. He was standing close enough that she could smell him, the warm, woodsy essence of his soap made more potent by the heat of his skin.

It was so familiar. A reminder of everything… and how easily they’d thrown it aside. It set her alight and cut through her all at the same time.

“I need to go,” she said, releasing her hold on him and stepping back. Her stomach was swirling with nausea and she gasped for fresh air. “I’m late for something.”

Tanner blinked at her sudden change of mood. “Is everything okay?”

“I just remembered I promised to pick something up for Zoe.” She was flailing around for excuses. This was what they’d ended up as, two people who were completely polite to each other. Because anything else hurt too much. “You carry on running, I’m heading back.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replied quickly. “You said yourself that you like running distances. My runs are five miles at the most.” She managed to smile at him. “Thanks for the company. I’ll see you around.”

She turned on the ball of her foot and launched herself down the road, pushing her legs to speed despite the protest of her muscles. It didn’t stop her hearing his sad goodbye, or from remembering the hurt look on his face when he realized she really didn’t want him running with her.

And if she ran home so fast that her lungs were screaming by the time she arrived at the end of her overgrown yard? Well that was okay. Maybe she deserved it. God knew the hurt felt pretty good right now.

Chapter Seven

“So that’s two months’ rent,” Regan said, writing a receipt out for Van as she sat in a guest chair at Regan’s desk. “Next month’s is due on the twenty-second.”

“Do you have a way my mom can pay it automatically?” Van asked. “I’m trying to get her into online payments so she doesn’t forget.”

“We do.” Regan smiled brightly, pulling open her drawer and taking out a leaflet. “Your mom always insists on checks. I figured she was old fashioned that way. A lot of our clients are.”

Van took the leaflet and slid it into her bag. “It’s time she came into the twenty-first century.”

“I kind of miss the old days,” Regan told her. “My eldest is already asking for a phone and he’s barely finished Kindergarten. Remember when we were all happy with a crayon and a piece of paper?”

“I remember,” Van said dryly.

“Speaking of my babies,” Regan said, glancing down at her swollen stomach. “I have a sprinkle next weekend. Would you like to come?”

“A sprinkle?” Van asked, biting down a smile. It sounded like some kind of incontinence problem. “What’s that?”

“It’s like a baby shower, but without all the gifts.” Regan shrugged. “After three kids I have almost everything I need. And anyway, Mrs. Fairfax said it would be bad form to ask for gifts for the fourth time around.” She blinked, then forced a smile on her face.

“What does Mrs. Fairfax have to do with it?” Van asked.

“She’s hosting for me. The Fairfaxes are very generous like that. You know where they live, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I’m free though…” The thought of subjecting herself to Nora and Johnny Fairfax for an afternoon was almost at the bottom of her list. Only above pulling her toenails out one by one and then baking them into a nice pie.

Regan grabbed her hands. “Please come. I don’t have that many friends. Don’t have time, what with the rugrats and my hubby.”

Letting out a mouthful of air, Van nodded. “Sure. Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Yay!” Regan clapped her hands together. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll pop an invitation through your door on my way home from work. That way you’ll know exactly when and where it is.” Her grin was so wide it made Van feel bad about not wanting to go. “And remember,” Regan said, waggling her finger. “No presents, just your presence.”

Van was almost certain that exact phrase was written on the invitation, right below a command to RSVP to Nora Fairfax by a date that had long since passed.

And now she had some shopping to do to. Because little