Page 57 of On the Line

Petra

I trained her well.

Lauren

I’m going for a run. I need to get out of here.

Jackson

He’s still going to be there when you get back, you know.

Lauren

Yeah, but I’ll be so busy getting ready for the wedding I will probably forget he’s here.

Petra

I highly doubt HE will forget YOU are there, though! Remember, we’ve seen the way he looks at you.

I set my phone down, determined not to respond to that comment. Suddenly it feels too warm in here. I need to get out. I need to feel the cool air on my face and burn off this sexual frustration. I need to exhaust myself with exercise so I’m not so keyed up about being in this house, with its one bed and Jameson.

I glance over at him again. He’s typing something on his phone.

“I’m going to go for a run,” I say, expecting a grunt of acknowledgment from him. Instead, he looks up at me and sets his phone on the kitchen counter.

“You sure? There’s not a lot of room on the roads with the snowbanks.”

“It’s fine, I grew up running on these roads. Plus, they’re clear and dry, and it’s the middle of the day. There won’t be a lot of traffic.”

“Okay.” The word is hesitant, and I can tell he’s worried. “Can you ... can you share your location with me on your phone, just in case?”

I hate the idea of anyone being able to track me. Then again, if something were to happen, and I was lying injured in a snowbank somewhere, I’d be awfully glad he could find me, right? I can always un-share my location when I get back from my run.

“Sure.” I pick up my phone and tap the necessary places. “There you go. I’m going to go change,” I tell him.

“All right.” He sounds uneasy. “I’ll shower while you’re gone, so the bathroom will be all yours when you get back.”

“Thanks,” I say as I head into the one bedroom and shut the door behind me. I try not to think about the fact that I’m getting naked with him just on the other side of the door. As I change, I glance over at the bed taking up the majority of the room.

It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s not like we’re going to share that bed tonight when we get back from the wedding. I ignore the tiny pang of disappointment at that thought. The guilt I feel when Josh flashes through my mind is harder to ignore.

It’s okay to move on, I remind myself. Healthy even.

I’m less than a quarter mile into my run, and still having a mental back-and-forth about my attraction to Jameson and how much that feels like a betrayal to Josh—even though Jameson treats me better than Josh ever did—when I realize that there’s something wrong with my sports bra. I think the straps are twisted around each other in the back, and it’s rubbing right between my shoulder blades. I stop and reach my hand down my back, but with the multiple layers I’m wearing it’s hard to make sense of what’s happening back there.

I can’t keep running with it like this or I’ll end up rubbing the skin off and it’ll look ridiculous with the open-back dress I’m wearing tonight.Ugh.I have no choice but to turn back and fix the problem, which means I’ll have less time to get a run in. My anxiety level—a combination of sexual frustration and nerves about sharing space with Jameson—is rising. I know a run will help me manage it, and running is something I can’t really do at home with two kids, so I’m trying not to be annoyed at this lost time.

I make it back to the house in record time. The door to the bedroom is cracked open and I can hear the shower running. When I knock, there’s no response, so I push open the bedroom door. The door to the bathroom is closed and I figure Jameson must already be in the shower. Good, I’ll just fix this bra and then get out of here. He’ll never even know I came back.

I strip my fleece and my shirt off quickly, then turn to look over my shoulder in the full-length mirror so I can see what’s going on. As I suspected, the back straps are wrapped around each other a few times. I reach back, trying to untangle them now that I can see what’s going on, but I can’t manage it. I’m going to need to take the bra off to untangle them. I wrap my arms around myself and grab the opposite sides, pull it over my head, then glance down at the offending material in my hands. I’m about to start untwisting the straps when movement in the mirror catches my attention.

I glance up, locking eyes with Jameson in the mirror. Flames flick through my entire body as I take him in, standing there in nothing but his boxer briefs. His long frame is cut with the deep grooves of hard-earned muscle that wrap around his limbs. Retirement has not diminished his physique. His skin stands out against the dark boxer briefs that are doing very little to hide his impressive size. I glance up at his face, a chiseled masterpiece with eyes of fire that reflect the desire burning through my body.

And that’s when I remember I’m topless. With a gasp, my hands fly to my breasts. “I—” Where are my words? They seem to have evaporated right off my tongue as we stare at each other in the mirror, neither of us moving. “I thought you were in the shower.”

“I thought you were on a run.” His voice is thick and even deeper than usual.

“My sports bra was all twisted,” I say, and my eyes flick to the floor where I dropped it when my hands shot up to cover my nakedness. “I came back to fix it.”

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