‘Stop!’ a feminine voice cut through the silence. ‘Dang it! I said stop!’
Connor dragged himself up off the park trail and scanned for Lotus, his Rhodesian Ridgeback. She was responsible for this current debacle. Well, at least that was his story and he was sticking to it. Not his inattention. No, not at all. She’d clearly decided she’d had enough of running by his side and was now more interested in the dog that was currently wrestling with her. The problem, however, was that unlike his leash, which he’d quickly released once she’d yanked him, that dog’s owner was being dragged and bounced around like a leaf on the wind at the moment. What in the hell had possessed her to wrap a leash around her waist?
Forgetting his injuries, Connor dashed across the trail to where she was vainly trying to get the dogs to stop. Wading in between them, he reached for Lotus’ collar and yanked her to the side with a sharp, ‘Relax!’ To the strange dog, he put up a hand and said, ‘Stop!’ He didn’t know the proper command for her, him, whatever, but his tone should get the job done. Thankfully, the dog stopped.
Turning his attention back to Lotus, he ordered, ‘Sit.’ She turned her root beer-coloured eyes up to his. The plea of “let me play” screamed at him, but he ignored it. Patiently, he repeated the command. She was so stubborn when she wanted something. This time, she sat.
Confident he had about 30 seconds before she ignored him, he spun to help the dishevelled owner. Much to his amusement, she was on hands and knees grumbling curse words that would make a sailor blush. Facing away from him, she presented a very lovely, lush ass for his perusal.
Her jogging clothes hugged her body and he was mightily impressed with her equipment. Her running equipment, of course, not the wiggle in that gorgeous ass as she struggled to her knees. Not the shapely curve of her waist or the lightly muscled arms set off by her black runner’s tank. Her headphones were dangling around her wrist and her coppery red hair was falling out of the simple band where she had it tied up in a sloppy knot.
‘Daisy!’ Her voice was smoky and tinged with an accent he couldn’t place other than Southern. ‘You little bitch! What have I told you about running off like that? Ya’ll damn near broke my ankle.’
Her vowels were long and her consonants soft and silky. “Running” lost the “g” and “you all” didn’t even exist for her. He grinned at her use of “bitch” in its one and only appropriate usage as the pit bull terrier – he was guessing, anyway – was clearly a female with a name like Daisy.
‘That’s my fault, I’m afraid.’
She whirled to face him stepping backward and catching her knee on her dog’s leash. He reached for her arm to steady her and a look of terror flashed across her face. She jerked up her hands and pushed one hard into his chest. With the other, she slammed her forearm against his, batting him away.
‘Shit!’ he hollered, tucking the aching limb under his armpit in a vain attempt to curb the throbbing. ‘What the hell is wrong with you, lady?’
‘Don’t touch me!’ she gasped, her breath ragged and her chest heaving.
‘Don’t worry,’ he snapped, ‘I don’t plan on getting anywhere near you.’ His arm still throbbed. ‘I was just trying to help. You were about to fall and it was clear I’d startled you.’ He shook his wrist, trying to flick away the pins and needles.
‘I didn’t know you were there.’ She placed her hands on her knees and visibly brought her breathing under control.
Connor remained wary. Gorgeous or not, she’d already proved volatile and he wasn’t at all sure she wouldn’t flick off again. ‘Look, it was my dog that caused the problem. Well, it was me, really. I was distracted and she got away from me.’ Taking in the dogs casually sniffing each other, he gestured toward them, saying, ‘They seem no worse for wear.’
Glancing at her dog, she said, ‘Daisy will take any opportunity to play. I guess it was bound to happen.’
‘That leash isn’t your best choice if you want to be able to keep yourself on your feet when your dog decides to get rambunctious.’
‘But it keeps my hands free.’ Her voice dropped and her gaze turned distant as she spoke and Connor wasn’t certain he’d heard her.
‘Huh?’ he prompted, wanting her to clarify.
As weird as this encounter had been, he found he wasn’t looking to leave yet either and he really should since he had things to do.
‘Nothing.’ Her voice turned sharp and cool. ‘Your knee is bleeding. Are you injured?’
She reached out as if to touch him, only to pull back like she’d been burned. Something was way out of kilter with this one. Now that she’d mentioned it, he noticed the burn of the shredded skin on his knees and the ache in his palms. Examining both, he determined that all the damage was superficial and told her so.
With a brisk nod she said, ‘I’d keep a better eye on my dog if I were you.’ She jerked lightly on the leash and set off down the path away from him.
‘Hey!’ he hollered after her. ‘What’s your name?’
She ignored him.
He stood, rooted to the spot, watching her until she disappeared from sight. Crazy. She was certifiable. Definitely.
Looking down at Lotus, he stroked her silky head and shrugged. ‘You can’t win them all, huh, baby?’
Taking up her leash, he continued on his way, leaving all thoughts of that strange encounter on the trail behind him.
Chapter Two
Bridget idly tapped her fingers on the battered top of the small bistro table as she waited for Claire to arrive. Around her, Bean There Done That was alive with the energy that only a college town coffee house can have. Small groups of students clustered around laptops that competed for space with encyclopaedic textbooks which overflowed the tables. The huge tomes crowded out their cappuccinos and macchiatos while they debated the merits of lives they hadn’t yet begun to live.
Several of her own students were currently huddled around a table in the far back. Hopefully, they were studying for the exam she’d dropped on them for the following day. They’d waved to her as they’d come in, calling out a “Hey, Professor Ross, you drink coffee?” as if it were completely alien for their teacher to actually do something human like drink coffee.
Unfortunately, her “Of course, coffee’s the single best chemical reaction in the world” had fallen on deaf ears. The blank look she’d gotten let her know that she needed to step up her Chem 101 classes if they hadn’t understood the apparent, albeit bad, joke that it was.
Still, they were good kids. It warmed her heart to see the group included Jack Rigby, who was a great guy, but a very poor chem student. Skyler, her best student, was also in the group and it looked like she was taking a special interest in helping him. More than likely that interest had less to do with altruism and a lot more to do with Jack’s baby blue eyes and well developed body, but hey, if it helped him pass she was all for it.
Her eyes danced restlessly around the cafe as she waited for her best friend. The pale green walls were unexpected in a coffee shop where so many went for mocha shades that matched their primary cash crop, but they worked here. Mona Van Hove, the owner, was not your usual sort of person and there were significantly more comfortable, overstuffed chairs arranged around low tables than there were bistro tables.
The artists’ work adorning the walls was for sale. Mona took a special interest in displaying local works and showcasing aspiring unknowns. The fireplace that dominated the back wall was always in use during the frosty Vermont winters and during the summers she filled the area with candle displays that created a cosy atmosphere no matter the temperature.
The vibe was one of bustling energy. Conversation was lively, but muted enough that you didn’t have to raise your voice to be heard. The clink and tap of dishes as coffees and espressos were made to the accompaniment of the hiss and spit of the machine frothing milk was a comfort on a day like today.
Despite herself, she’d been unable to get the unfortunate encounter with the strange jogger out of her head. She’d been barely civil to him and that wasn’t like her. She was polite to everyone. It had been bred into her from the time she was old enough to walk. No Southern woman worth her salt lost her manners regardless of the situation. However, she had definitely done that this morning.
