Mid Life Love (Mid Life Love #1)(28)

“Perfect. Do you want to walk or run through the trail?”

“I want to run.”

“All five miles?” He tossed a jacket into his car. “Are you sure?”

“Are you not in shape? Would you prefer if we drove through the trail instead?”

He laughed. “I’m in excellent shape, Claire. I was just making sure you have the stamina to keep up with me.” He gave me a wicked grin and I immediately turned away and started running.

He was at my side within seconds and together we sprinted through the clay trail, weaving through the clove of trees. We kept pace with one another, never stopping to catch a breath.

Every now and then I could feel him looking over at me, maybe even smiling at me, but I was too focused on making it to the end of the trail to return his gazes.

Running had a way of calming my nerves, making me feel at peace, and I couldn’t focus on much else when my feet were hitting the pavement.

Once I crossed the five mile marker, I stopped and held my knees. I heard Jonathan slightly panting next to me.

“Most women I know can’t run one mile without stopping, let alone five...” He sounded impressed. “Have you always been a runner?”

“Hell no.” I sank down to the ground and stretched my legs. “I used to hate running...I’ve only been doing it for the past four years. How long have you been running?”

“All my life.” He slid his shirt over his head, revealing a sweaty set of washboard abs. He sat down next to me. “It’s one of the few things I’m very good at.”

There seemed to be a double meaning behind his words, and a part of me wanted to ask him to explain it, but I remembered the speech I’d given myself earlier. I didn’t need to pry into his personal life because I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression.

I cleared my throat. “Oh...Well that sounds very—”

“How old are your daughters, Claire? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Sixteen.”

“They’re twins?” He raised his eyebrow. “Are they identical?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I couldn’t really tell them apart until they were three. That’s when they started developing their own little personalities and—”

Whoa. Overshare. Stick to basic information...

“You plan on ever finishing that sentence?” He smiled.

I didn’t respond. Between the beads of sweat that were trickling down his sculpted chest, his gorgeous eyes, and that ‘I-know-damn-well-you-want-me’ smile, I was trapped.

I slowly stood up and dusted the dirt off the back of my pants. “Um...we should probably head back now. I think we should run again.”

“So you won’t have to talk to me?”

Yes.

“No, that’s not it. I’m sure you have a million other things you could be doing right now so—”

“Not at all. I cleared my whole morning for you.”

Damnit...

“That was...” I looked away from him. “That was very nice of you, but I only have time for a run so—”

“Claire, you told me you were free last night, and I’m pretty sure nothing has changed between two a.m. and now. You and I are on a date, which means that since we’re not getting lunch or dinner, we are going to walk back together. Then our “miserable” date that I apparently forced you to come on will end, and you can pretend like you actually have some work to do.”

I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help it. “As long as we’re done by noon. I do have some things I have to do today.”

“Like what?”

“I have to sort through some more sPhone blue ideas for the upcoming campaign. Mr. Barnes wants us to pick a favorite by Monday and that’s going to take a miracle...”

“Speaking of which, why do you hate your job?”

“Telling the CEO why I hate my job? I don’t think so.”

“I won’t take it personal.” He motioned for me to start walking beside him. “I really want to know.”

“No you don’t.” I laughed.

“Tell me.”

I sighed. “In a nutshell: the employee benefits suck, cars should never be towed off the lot, directors should be allowed at least fifteen hours overtime a month, and working two years just to be eligible for one week of vacation? That’s ridiculous. Oh, and what’s the point in offering free coffee if there’s hardly ever any, and when there is, it tastes like shit? Just don’t offer any and save your money. And don’t get me started on that motivational idiot who made us put beanbags in our offices and gave us “Zen” journals. I could’ve given you a much better way to spend two million dollars.”

Jonathan stopped walking and looked down at me, right into my eyes. He was quiet for a long time, and then he burst into laughter. “Are you always this blunt?”

“You asked for the truth.”

“I think I’ve learned my lesson.” He smiled and started walking again.

I thought he would ask me more questions, or that I would feel compelled to ask him a few to make our walk easier, but I was actually enjoying the silence; I had the feeling that he was too.

Before I knew it, I could see the parking lot in the distance and the quarter mile marker straight ahead.