Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(58)

I thought his silence was strange.  “Did you get my message earlier?  About tomorrow?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable.  “Yeah.  I’ve got plans.”

I blinked.  This was different.  I wasn’t accustomed to hearing no, not from him.  I shrugged.  “Okay.  That’s fine.  No worries.”

“I’d cancel, but it’s a sponsored charity run.  Nothing big, just a 5k, but all the press attached is going to take forever.  And there’s an after party.  We do stuff like this all the time.”  I really tried not to dwell on who the we was in that sentence.  “It’s usually an all-day thing.  I could come by after.”

I nodded.  “Yeah, whatever.  I mean, call after, and we’ll figure it out.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.  I didn’t know if he didn’t want to invite me to participate or if he felt awkward asking me.  Maybe he thought I couldn’t do something like that?  He had to know that I could walk three miles.  I had a limp, but I was still in good shape.  I made sure to work my knee out every single day.

“Is it a serious 5k?  I mean, strict runners only, or are there some slower participants?”

He sat on one of the barstools at my counter, his eyes steady on mine.  “Anything goes.  It’s all to raise money for some local charities.  I’m just going to bring some attention to it.”  He swallowed.  “You’re invited, if that’s something you could do, that you’d want to do.  I didn’t want to pressure you or to come across like an insensitive prick.  I know you do your stationary bike every day, and that you swim, but I wasn’t sure…”

I shrugged.  “I can do it, but only if you want me to go.  I don’t want to impose, and I don’t want to slow you down.  You can, you know, feel free to run ahead of me.”

“You’re not imposing.  I want you to go.  And you won’t be slowing me down.  It’s not that kind of a race.  I won’t raise more money for charity if I finish faster.”  There was a very long pause.  “Mona will be there.  All of the girls from the show will be.”

I rolled my eyes, none too pleased about seeing Mona, but it was certainly the lesser evil.  At least he wouldn’t be spending the day with her without me now, with me at home alone on my day off.

“Do I need to sign up somewhere or do anything special?”

He shook his head.  “I’ll get you signed up, and I’ll drive.  I know where it is.  The only rule is that you have to wear white.”

I thought that was odd, but I went into my room and started going through my closet.  “Tops and bottoms?” I called to him.

“If you can,” he answered from close behind me.  “Just make sure it’s not any clothing you’re real attached to.  It may not survive the day.”

“What, you going to rip it off me?”  I shot him a sassy look, and he laughed how I loved, from deep in his chest.

“It’s quite possible.  I certainly wouldn’t rule it out.”

I pulled up a pair of white track shorts and a white modified muscle shirt.  “These work?”

“Perfect.”

He didn’t stay long that night, which was disappointing, but I supposed it was good that at least one of us was showing some restraint.

“I’ll be by at eight to pick you up in the morning,” he told me as I walked him to his car.

He kissed me goodbye, pulling back quickly.  “I need to go get some stuff done, and I know that if we get into this we’ll never stop.”

I nodded, stepping back.  “Goodnight,” I murmured, then went back into the house without looking back.  If he could pull away, I told myself, then so could I.

I was ready, dressed in white down to my shoes, my hair tied up in a messy ponytail, knee brace on, when he pulled up the next morning.  I didn’t make him come to the door, going out to him before he could walk up to the house.

We met halfway, in my driveway.  He looked so different, dressed all in white, in a V-neck T-shirt and athletic shorts.  Each piece had a small Cavendish Resort logo embroidered on it.

Even his shoes were white, and he was wearing a white sweatband.

“You’d look so preppy, if I couldn’t still see all of that ink.”

He grinned.  “There’s a perfectly good explanation for why I’m dressed like this.  You’ll see what it is when we get there.”

Before I could respond, he was bending down, lifting me into a tight hug that took my feet clear off the ground.  My arms wrapped around his neck.

I lifted my face and closed my eyes as his lips made their way to mine, wishing he’d shown up earlier, or stayed the night before, or something, anything to give us a few more stolen moments we could have had to feed this hunger enough to keep it at bay.

We were not in any way assuaging this need of ours.  With every encounter, we only seemed to be making it more acute.

His lips became insistent, his hands grabbing my ass so he could keep me anchored while he ground hard against me.

It was a few drugging minutes before he tore himself away.

“Christ.  Do you want me to f**k you on your lawn, or was I misreading that?”